The future of fashion depends on how we educate the next generation. For decades, sustainability in fashion has been framed as a consumer responsibility—individual choices like buying secondhand, choosing “green” brands, or recycling old clothes. But true systemic change requires a shift in how fashion is taught at the institutional level, embedding regenerative practices and deep sustainability into the curriculum.
At Sacramento State University, Assistant Professor Emily Oertling is leading this transformation. As a socio-cultural researcher with a background in design, Emily focuses on the relationship between people and fashion products—how clothing creates emotion, connection, and action. Her work explores not just sustainable fashion, but the deeper behavioral and systemic changes necessary to move the industry forward.
With a strong belief that the future of apparel and textiles must be built on sustainability, Emily is rewriting the curriculum for the Fashion Merchandising and Management program at Sacramento State. She integrates regional fibershed-based learning, systemic thinking, and hands-on making into her courses, ensuring students graduate with a deep understanding of fashion’s impact—and the tools to change it.
In this conversation, Emily shares her journey into academia, the challenges of reshaping fashion education, and the importance of bridging industry expectations with ethical and regenerative practices.
Fibershed: How did you decide to begin teaching at Sacramento State?
Emily Oertling: What attracted me to this particular position was that they were specifically looking to hire someone who could integrate sustainability into the curriculum and rewrite it. That’s something I enjoy doing—I did some course development during my PhD, and enjoyed integrating sustainability in different ways whenever I had the opportunity.
Beyond that, I was already familiar with the region and knew that there were large fiber systems here, which made it a place where I could see a future. In fact, it was Fibershed that ultimately drew me to the area. During the interview process, I had to make a decision about moving forward with other universities, and I felt more confident in Sacramento State because of Fibershed’s presence.
I was aware that the university had put in writing its commitment to sustainability, but what was interesting to me was that during the interview process, when I integrated all of this regional information into my interviewmaterials. Fibershed was a new idea to the audience. That wasn’t surprising, but it underscored something that I often study—the disconnect between people and their products. That made Sacramento State an exciting place to be, because I saw a massive opportunity for research and curriculum development. The program was essentially telling me, “Come in and redo whatever you want, fix whatever you want.” And it happened to be in a place where I knew strong community partnerships could be formed.
Sometimes when I speak to people, they say they want sustainability, but in practice, they may only want it in small pieces or as a tag-on. I wasn’t sure if my program fully knew what it wanted, but they seemed willing to put energy into it and let me lead. That was very attractive to me.
Fibershed: Do you feel like there was a disconnect between different definitions of sustainability when you arrived at Sacramento State? There’s a significant difference between what Fibershed promotes—soil-to-soil, deep regenerative practices—and the broader sustainable fashion conversations that often center on things like recycled polyester. Did you encounter that disconnect?
Emily: Absolutely. The soil-to-soil conversation is not wholly integrated into many programs that aren’t part of agricultural schools. urs is in the College of Social Sciences and Interdisciplinary Studies. The nature of a program is often influenced by the college it belongs to.
When I arrived, sustainability was framed more through a consumer behavior lens, which makes sense given how sustainability has been marketed to the public for decades. For years, consumers were led to believe that they alone were responsible for sustainability, and now that perspective is shifting. But at the institutional level, fashion education still largely operates within a framework shaped by industry expectations. Colleges have historically been places where the workforce is trained, and there is a strong emphasis on meeting industry demands.
However, our industry isn’t on the right side of history. Fashion education needs to move beyond simply responding to industry needs and instead take a leadership role in shaping a more ethical and regenerative future. That means prioritizing sustainability and systemic change before catering to existing industry structures. If universities continue to train students to maintain the status quo, they’re failing to prepare them for the urgent challenges ahead.
Fibershed: What has the process of rewriting the curriculum at Sacramento State been like?
Emily: It’s still in process. A full curriculum overhaul can take six to ten years, which is wild to think about. Typically, you start with the courses you’re assigned as a new faculty member. The first course I was assigned was a sustainability course that had been created, I think, in part to justify hiring someone like me. My priority was to improve the content of that course, which had a heavy consumer focus. I worked to shift the lens away from individual responsibility and create bridges between personal choices and systemic issues.
That course is a critical thinking General Education requirement, meaning students from all over campus take it. That’s an interesting challenge because I have to start with the basics—helping students connect their clothing choices to larger systems.
In academia, making curricular changes is a slow process. Initially, I wasn’t assigned full control over classes, so I worked on improving the ones I could. One of the first I flipped was a research methods course—not explicitly about sustainability, but essential in teaching students how to be good, ethical social scientists. I had to wait until my two-year probation period ended before I had more freedom to restructure courses.
The first class where I fully integrated place-based learning was the lower-level apparel construction course, where I brought in regional materials. There’s also a sequential strategy to flipping a curriculum—you have to start with lower-level courses before you can change upper-level ones. If you integrate new ideas in lower-level courses, those cohorts carry the new framework forward, making a smoother transition as you phase out older content.
Creating a curriculum is incredibly complex, with many moving parts. Right now, we’re looking at becoming more connected with the environmental science and economics programs. This shift will allow us to strengthen the sustainability component of our program, and, ideally, allow us to attract students interested in making systemic change. Integrating courses like environmental ethics, human geography, and gendered labor and economics will yield a more informed student.
This is still a six-year plan, though. There’s a lot of strategy involved—balancing general education offerings with major-specific courses, working within state regulations, and ensuring enrollment numbers are high enough to sustain classes. In California, especially within the CSU system, we’re regulated in multiples of 40 students per class. If we don’t have enough students, we can’t run multiple sections, which limits offerings. We’re investing our time heavily in recruitment and retention to sustain the program and keep it growing. The integration process is incredibly slow because all these factors have to align simultaneously.
Fibershed: It sounds like there’s so much effort that goes into planning—far beyond just teaching what you’re passionate about.
Emily: Absolutely. I love teaching, but I also have to be good at navigating the system. I spend a lot of time in long-term planning—thinking years ahead about how to structure programs, build partnerships, and meet state and university requirements. For example, if I want to host a spring symposium for student professional development, I have to start planning a year and a half in advance. If we want to create concentrations, we have to first introduce advising tracks, which means meeting with the dean and beginning the process years ahead of implementation.
When I arrived at Sacramento State, I stepped into a system that relied on a one-class model for sustainable fashion education. I knew that wasn’t enough, but I also recognized that I couldn’t just criticize the existing structure—I had to work within it to make meaningful change. Over time, I’ve come to appreciate the slow progress, even if it’s frustrating. I used to get angry when people focused on superficial sustainability measures like recycled polyester, but now I recognize that at least they’re starting the conversation.
Fibershed: Do you have a favorite lesson or implementation strategy you’ve developed?
Emily: One of the more effective assignments I’ve created is teaching students how to critically analyze corporate sustainability reports (CSR reports). While CSR reports are often just companies grading their own homework, the exercise teaches students how to assess the information companies provide, compare it with independent sources, and recognize greenwashing tactics.
For many students, this is the first time they realize how much misinformation exists in the industry. This assignment is particularly impactful for first-year students, many of whom are non-majors, because it develops their critical thinking skills and introduces them to sustainability in a tangible way. It also naturally leads to discussions about accountability and legislation.
Another powerful tool is using documentaries like The True Cost. It’s slightly outdated, but its impact remains strong. The film resonates deeply with students from diverse backgrounds—many at Sacramento State come from immigrant families, have worked in agriculture, or have experienced economic hardship firsthand. Scenes about garment workers leaving their children behind to work in factories hit home for students who have seen similar situations in their own families. That personal connection makes the lessons more meaningful.
I’ve also had incredible moments of student engagement. This semester, a student of Cambodian heritage brought up the Khmer Rouge’s impact on Cambodia’s labor force during a class discussion. She passionately explained how her family’s history is connected to modern labor exploitation. Moments like that reinforce how deeply these issues resonate when students can draw direct connections between global sustainability challenges and their own lives.
That concept of connection—between personal experience and the broader world—is something I saw again in a different project, the Borrowed from the Soil challenge with Fibershed. I designed the challenge with a place-based approach, expecting students to engage directly with the Northern California Fibershed. But rather than immediately identifying with this region, many students reflected on their own backgrounds—their families, childhood homes, and past experiences. While they ultimately created work using regional materials, their design process was deeply personal.
Fibershed: If you met someone stepping into a similar role—developing a sustainability-focused curriculum at a university—what advice would you give them?
Emily: First, learn the system inside and out. Every university operates differently, and once you understand the bureaucracy, you can figure out how to work within it—or how to change it. Identify the right forms, the key decision-makers behind them, and the processes for curriculum approval.
Second, make connections. Academia isn’t an individual sport. Find like-minded colleagues who can support your work and advocate for change alongside you.
Third, accept that fashion programs often aren’t taken seriously in academia. You’ll constantly have to fight to be heard, but persistence pays off. The younger generation is better at recognizing the importance of fashion in sustainability, but there’s still a lot of bias to overcome.
Finally, work strategically within existing structures. I tell my students the same thing: You don’t have to take on the world all at once—start by changing your immediate environment. For example, I had a student who restructured her sorority’s approach to apparel production, reducing waste and unnecessary purchases. That kind of localized action is powerful.
Ultimately, education itself is a radical act. Even if the only radical thing you do at first is learn, that’s still a meaningful start.
Fibershed: What’s next? Are there any upcoming projects that you’re particularly excited about?
Emily: Fibershed and I are working to host an internship course this summer. The class will be open to all majors and levels, and students will focus on collecting, synthesizing, and presenting the data needed to support the planning and implementation of SB707. We anticipate a cohort of about 20 students, and this will be a hands-on opportunity for them to engage with real-world sustainability legislation.