In an industry obsessed with next-gen recycling technologies and circularity buzzwords, the existing global system for textile reuse is often overlooked—or worse, misunderstood.

That’s according to Brian London, president of the Secondary Materials and Recycled Textiles (SMART) Association, who argues that misunderstandings and misplaced priorities are clouding the reality of how textile waste is actually managed today.  

At the center of that misunderstanding is a basic question: What actually counts as waste? According to London, the question isn’t philosophical because its answer is economic. 

“It’s essentially a market-driven process,” he said. “What’s ‘rewearable’ is defined by the person buying it.”

Sorting operations, he explained, are highly competitive and tightly calibrated. A shipment mislabeled as high-quality wearable goods won’t sell—and repeat mistakes quickly push operators out of business. In other words, the market enforces its own quality control.

That reality complicates the industry’s fixation on recycling, particularly the push toward closed-loop systems that promise to turn old garments into new ones.

“We shouldn’t fetishize it at the expense of reuse,” London said. “Closed-loop recycling doesn’t exist at scale yet. Reuse is economically and socially a better use of that item right now.”  

The hierarchy, in his view, is straightforward: reuse first, then explore other solutions for what remains. Still, the conversation doesn’t end there. Critics often point to the downstream impacts of exported secondhand clothing, particularly in countries with limited waste-management infrastructure.

London doesn’t dismiss the concern—but he reframes responsibility.

“If I find a market where an item can be reused, is it my responsibility to manage how it’s disposed of three steps down the line?” he said, noting that current economics don’t support that level of oversight.

Instead, he sees Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) as a potential lever—if deployed differently. Rather than funneling funds into more collection infrastructure in Western markets, he argues that those resources should be directed toward building waste management systems in the countries receiving the clothing.  

That shift would also acknowledge a broader truth: textile waste is as much a production problem as it is a disposal one.

“Everyone focuses on the textiles,” London said. “But the root is overproduction—especially items made with polyester and materials that are tough to deal with at end of life.”

Layered on top of that is a data problem. London points to one statistic in particular—a widely cited claim that only 15 percent of clothing is donated—as emblematic of the issue.

“You see it everywhere,” he said. “But if you try to find the actual study or methodology behind it, it’s almost impossible.”

Once embedded in industry discourse, he added, those figures take on a life of their own—regardless of accuracy. The same goes for the narrative that secondhand exports amount to “sending problems away.”

“The biggest users of American used clothing are actually Americans,” London said. “In places like El Salvador, people are lining up for these shipments; it’s almost like a ‘Black Friday’ moment for these communities.”

For him, the reality is more nuanced than either side of the debate tends to admit.

“We have to hold two truths at once,” he said. “There are failures in the system, but it also provides a massive environmental benefit for every item that gets re-worn.”

Leaning too far in the opposite direction, he warned, risks undermining a system that—while imperfect—is already delivering results at scale.

“If we push the idea that it’s all waste,” London said, “we’re going to destroy a reuse system that’s working far better than anything we’re trying to build from scratch.”