In an interview for the March 2026 issue of British Vogue, cult British rapper Fakemink revealed his PET peeve. “I don’t want to wear polyester. I don’t think anyone should be wearing polyester,” he said, explaining that he shunned the plastic fibre after being put onto high-quality, natural fabrics by his mother, a former luxury retail assistant (and Mink’s occasional stylist). A few weeks later, after his comments went viral, the rapper elaborated on X: “I only wear cotton, denim [which is primarily made from cotton], wool, and cashmere.”

While the linen industry may have a word or two for Mink, his take is suitably zeitgeisty. Polyester-bashing is rife right now in fashion discourse, vilified by commenters and called out on fashion Instagram account Trends of the Times in December. “Polyester has certainly become a more visible topic in the fashion debate, especially on social media, where fabric composition labels are often judged quickly and superficially,” says Raffaella Scimeca, CMO at ‘Made in Italy’ manufacturing group Gruppo Florence. Consumers are more scrupulous than ever, but this level of scrutiny is relatively binary: natural fabrics are good; polyester is bad.

Despite its image problem, polyester is being used more than ever. Up to 69% of all materials produced for the fashion industry are synthetic, driven by the breakneck acceleration of fast fashion, according to NGO Changing Markets Foundation. More notably, high fashion houses, assumed by many consumers to be above using such inexpensive textiles, aren’t necessarily shying away. On the Fall/Winter 2026 runways — alongside a glut of latex — polyester, rain-proof plastic garments were spotted at several shows.

Last September, sustainable title No Kill Magazine ran a Luxury Loves Polyester online campaign, drawing attention to this issue. “There is nothing luxurious in knowingly using materials that do harm to both people and the planet. It’s the opposite of luxury, it’s grotesque,” says No Kill Magazine editor and Pratt Institute associate professor Katya Moorman. The imagery of the project’s micro-site pulls together polyester-containing pieces, including dresses from Gucci ($7,000), Balmain ($5,150), and Miu Miu ($2,470).

With so much debate around the textile, it’s clear that brands aren’t just using polyester to make a quick buck from a cheap frock; it’s not worth the payoff as a luxury label. Instead, they argue that its unique properties mean it is sometimes genuinely sought after, and, strikingly, more premium than some natural fabrications when using certain techniques. The reality is far from simple.

A so-called ‘miracle fabric’?

Polyester is not a new yarn; following the development of nylon, it was first marketed in a range of New York boutiques as Dacron almost exactly 75 years ago. It’s a type of polymer made from petroleum-based compounds, and at the time, advertisers positioned it as a “miracle fabric” that didn’t wrinkle, rip, discolor, or fade. “With the touch, the shimmer, the pure spell of silk, yet never a care in the world,” reads a Dacron print advert from 1960. Compared to other fabrics, Polyester was — and still is — also incredibly cheap to produce. When it was introduced to fashion, there was little acknowledgment of the high environmental cost, with supporters arguing that polyester doesn’t rely on the volatile natural supply chains of livestock, crops, land, or water (despite being derived from fossil fuels extracted from the earth). Relatively speaking, they said, its yield efficiency is high, its labor time is short, and its human input is low. According to Earth Day, it currently costs half as much per kilo on average as cotton.

By the 1970s, polyester had become associated with cheap and cheerless clothing, chided by more discerning designers. “It was the dirtiest word you could say in fashion,” filmmaker John Waters told W in 2008. In the 1980s, though, textile expert Mary Ellen Smith changed the game at Patagonia, marketing a brushed, breathable polyester from Massachusetts-based Malden Mills as PolarFleece. Then, in the 1990s, Ellen Smith used cutting-edge, moisture-wicking, microfiber polyester for Nike’s pioneering Dri-Fit range. Polyester suddenly meant peak performance.

This halo effect made basic polyester more palatable to consumers, not just for activewear but also for high street dupes. In the aughts, it became rocket fuel for fast fashion; e-tailers like H&M and Topshop (later followed by ultra-fast fashion giants like Shein) exploited the synthetic material for its low production costs and surprisingly photogenic sheen. It was a time, according to a 2008 W magazine article, that “oft-mocked polyester finally [was getting] a little respect”.

The environmental impact has been devastating. Polyester accounts for 43% of CO2e emissions from fiber production. “Polyester is really bad for the planet from beginning to end. It’s made from oil, so we’re extracting a resource to make it, it sheds microplastics with every wash, and isn’t biodegradable — so it will essentially be around forever,” says Moorman. It can also be dangerous for factory workers. “The chemicals used are toxic, often carcinogenic, and are regularly discharged into waterways in producing countries with little to no treatment.”

It’s why designer fashion brands have tended to skirt around polyester to avoid devaluing their brand image. “Polyester flouts several powerful cultural norms. It is artificial, violating the idealization of nature that goes back to the Romantic period,” says The Fabric of Civilization author Virginia Postrel. Greater textile literacy has led to new luxury players like Auralee earning a cult following for its focus on fine natural fabrics. But polyester still appears in the fabric boxes of most ateliers; you would be hard-pressed to find a brand, high street, or high fashion that doesn’t use poly in some form.

Not all poly is a ploy

For designers, polyester is sometimes genuinely difficult to avoid. The miraculous image it gained in the 1970s isn’t stretching the truth; in certain conditions, it’s essential. Polyester is water-resistant, meaning it is often used for the outer layer of outdoor jackets. It’s quick-drying, making it the go-to for swimwear. It’s stretchy, making it ideal for activewear. And, even after machine washing, it doesn’t lose its shape, color, or tone in the same way as textiles made from natural fibers.

Amid the fluster of modern life, polyester offers an alluring practicality and an unfading luster. “There are, indeed, situations where polyester can be technically justified, even in high-end or luxury garments. Certain aesthetic and structural effects are extremely difficult to achieve with natural fibers alone,” says Vincenzo Cangiolio, president of Prato-based textile company Lanificio Cangioli 1859.

Even brands prioritizing natural fibers are often forced to revert to polyester for threads, trims, and care labels. The insidiousness of these hidden use cases — coupled with a broader push for textile recycling — have given rise to mono-material garments, says Gruppo Florence’s Scimeca. “[Here], components such as zippers and buttons are made from the same material as the main fabric. This approach simplifies end-of-life processing,” she explains.

It’s why, for Issey Miyake, polyester became a staple material. Many fans of the Japanese label are probably unaware that its Pleats Please line relies on polyester to achieve its signature concertina effect. Heat is applied to the polymer to permanently pleat the fabric after the garment has been sewn, creating sharp folds that don’t tarnish in a washing machine, suitcase, or on the bedroom floor. “Polyester is easy to work with and results in clothing that is well-suited to the needs of a modern lifestyle,” Miyake said in 2008.

Pleats Please also speaks to the fact that premium polyester is possible. While the fabric can be available dirt cheap, some forms are notably less chintzy. Miyake, for example, sources polyester from expert Japanese manufacturers such as Toray. Microfibers can be used to create a softer, silkier feel and prevent piling. “Not all synthetic fabrics are made equal,” wrote New York label Mirror Palais in the caption of a 2025 Instagram Reel, after the brand faced criticism for using poly. “You can’t just call something cheap because it’s polyester; you need more information before making that judgment.”

Some consumers are likely shelling out for poly garments without even knowing. Savvy copywriting has often been used to gloss over the small print of the care label. Moorman notes that terms like satin are often used because they are technically weave structures rather than fibers, which can be made from anything (including, of course, polyester, although less discerning consumers might assume silk) — it’s a similar case with twill, lamé, and tulle. Meanwhile, “technical” is, technically, almost always plastic.

Ione Gamble, founder and editor-in-chief of Polyester Zine (its name derives from the Waters cult classic movie, and because “another publication with a fabric name was the opposite” of what she wanted to achieve), believes criticism of the fabric is valid, and is personally against mass-produced, cheaply made clothing. But Gamble also believes there needs to be some nuance. “I do think on the internet, and especially fashion Twitter or other factions of fashion enthusiasts, it’s easy and tempting to adopt the most extreme take or parrot things that others online are saying without fully understanding a fabric’s uses, or why it might show up in a high fashion context,” she says. And while banishing polyester from your closet altogether has become shorthand for living more sustainably, it’s not as cut and dry as it may appear. There’s no point, for example, in throwing out whatever you already own.

Rebecca Earley, sustainable fashion textile researcher and professor at Chelsea College of Arts, has seen both sides of the fabric. In the 1990s, her print design work, using polyester, led her to win a New Generation Award at London Fashion Week in 1996. More recently, in the sustainable field, she has been running workshops to better understand polyester. “It’s definitely a material that has a stigma around it, and quite rightly, because it is a cheap material that has been used to really accelerate the explosion of fast fashion,” she says. But, Earley explains, there are “many positive functional characteristics”.

Mirror Palais founder Marcelo Gaia thinks he had a hand in stoking the polyester fallout. In 2021, Gaia posted a video where he burns a scrap of poly, comparing it to a plastic bottle. “I’m very aware of the discourse, and believe I may have fueled some of the flames with my viral video, which produced a visceral reaction from young TikTok audiences,” he explains. “When videos like that go viral, there are fewer opportunities for nuance, so the association becomes: polyester equals plastic, which equals trash.”

He’s clear that polyester can be valuable. “Fabrics are not all created equal. Time is money, and the time a manufacturer requires to create any fabrication is part of the cost and therefore the final retail price for third parties to purchase,” Gaia explains. “Weaving techniques, dyeing, embroidery, finishing treatments, and compositions all play a role in the making of synthetic or natural fabrications.”

Cangioli echoes this: “In these cases, the value is not in the raw material itself, but in the design, engineering, and craftsmanship applied to it. Consumers may question high price points, but the cost of a garment is not solely determined by fiber composition.” Postrel thinks that “polyester is not evil. It is not toxic. Polyester production emits carbon dioxide and water. But it is not worse for the environment, all things considered, than competing fibers, notably cotton, which requires lots of land and water.”

Earley thinks that issues surrounding natural fabrics are often brushed over. “I would love to be surrounded by linens and muslins and silks and cashmeres. They are the loveliest materials, but none of them are light on the planet,” she says, drawing attention to the harms of cotton and viscose production. Earley believes it all depends on the processing: “You can have good polyesters [...], and you can have bad cottons. Using polyester in high fashion makes a lot of sense. But we’ve got a massive battle to work with people to understand how it can be used in better ways.” Likewise, if all brands were to suddenly dispel polyester and revert to cotton, the environmental impact would be immense.

One hope is that recycled polyester, used by Prada, Ganni, and Stella McCartney, could offer a lifeline. Unifi has transformed 46 billion plastic bottles into its fiber, Repreve, which uses 41% less greenhouse gas emissions compared to virgin polyester. “Our recycled platform helps brands create new products, without using new materials, and this decreases the environmental impact of Repreve versus virgin polyester in several categories,” says Melissa Henkle, director of brand sales and marketing at Unifi.

No Kill Mag’s Moorman is less encouraged. “Recycled poly mostly comes from plastic water bottles, which in some ways is worse,” she says. “Recycling plastic bottles into polyester fabric sounds circular, but it isn’t — it pulls bottles out of an existing recycling system, converts them into a form that can’t be recycled again, and still sheds microplastics with every wash.” Plus, recycled fibers are often shorter, and therefore lower quality, than virgin.

Still, Earley is optimistic: “It’s hugely better [...] we have this potential to create really viable recycling loops.” Various cutting-edge developments are advancing right now, including enzymatically recycled polyester from Carbios and bio-based polyester from Kintra Fibers; whether they are scalable is another question. For now, recycled polyester is a semi-circular solution.

Fakemink’s take, then, is relatively real. Polyester can be dressed up as a chic fabric through both a PR spin and design ingenuity. Undoubtedly, too, it has applications both in terms of form and function. But for now, at least, the fabric’s unsustainable credentials make it something to be used and bought in extreme moderation, best to be considered, perhaps, as the long-haul flight of clothes shopping.

“Use it where it adds genuine technical or aesthetic value, not simply as a cost-saving substitute. Minimize blends where possible, to improve recyclability at end-of-life. Be transparent with consumers, explaining why a material has been chosen,” says Cangioli. “Ultimately, the future is unlikely to be about eliminating polyester entirely, but rather about using it more intelligently.”

In this sense, polyester itself should be considered a luxury rather than a throwaway, a decadent resource to be consumed sparingly. “I had a student recently write a ‘fashion fiction’, where we imagine alternative realities, and she imagined a world where polyester was a rare material, because we were very intentional about what we used extracted oil for,” Moorman says. “It was an unexpected spin.”