If you live in Sweden, you might have been as confused as I was in January this year when new textile recycling rules came into force. I, for one, found myself holding a pair of my daughter’s undergarments, destroyed by a good two years of weekly wear, tear and hot laundry cycles. Holding it on top of the bin where the unsorted trash belongs, I was about to commit an illegal act. But I thought better of it and, fighting an uneasy feeling, put it into our family’s sorting bag for old clothes.
Whereas previously, we would only assemble the pieces we thought could be reused, we would, from now on, just add the rest, the panties and socks with holes and those mite-ravaged wool sweaters that are beyond repair. Eventually, the filled bag would make its way to the nearest charity collection, just the way it previously did. But what then? Theoretically, I would have fulfilled my legal duty, but what would happen to these discarded pieces? Wouldn’t someone have to sort the damaged pieces from the nicer reusable ones… manually??
Apparently, so. Despite the fact that the Swedish government decided in December 2023 to implement this new regulation starting in January 2025, the system wasn’t ready. One year wasn’t enough for municipalities, on whom the new rules put the burden on, to organise collection points, train staff and inform the public. As a comprehensive comparative study by the Danish Miljøstyrelsen shows, there are fine lines when it comes to textile waste collection, making the entire process a regulatory minefield. For example, if something is clearly destined to be reused, it may count as waste if it is collected together with pieces that are unusable and if it is waste, then you may need a licence to collect it. There are also export requirements for waste that don’t necessarily apply to second-hand clothes. In Sweden, before the new regulation came into force, a large part of the collected textiles, of which the vast majority was considered reusable, was already exported to places like Lithuania for onwards export to Kenya and other parts of the developing world. And, as we already know, the demand of the developing world isn’t enough to absorb the quantity of garments the Western economies wants to get rid off, so they end up on the beaches of Ghana or the mountains of Chile, among other unsustainable destinations.
So, after the new regulation came into force, collection points were drowning in cheap, stained, broken clothing, within weeks, making the entire system more inefficient than it was before. Do charities and processing centers really want old socks, stained t-shirts, and shredded leggings in their already overloaded bins? Definitely not. Some of them, such as non-profit association Humana Sverige are in serious difficulties already, with significant outstanding tax liabilities at the debt collection agency. The fact is that, currently, Sweden lacks the capacity to sort and process textiles for recycling fibers. That means the new mandatory collection of textile waste was always going to overwhelm an already stretched export pathway.
Taking advantage of the summer lull, on July 17, Sweden quietly conceded: come October 1st, you can just toss damaged textiles in the regular trash again. Given Sweden’s current waste-treatment system, this means that they will join the general mass of unsorted trash and be used for “energetic repurposing”, in other words, burned. (Note that you’ll have to wait until October thought – meanwhile, please continue to bother the people in the charity shops!)
This backtrack stings, because beneath it all is a good idea: calling out fast fashion and pushing circular solutions. Sweden even introduced an ambitious EPR (Extended Producer Responsibility) scheme back in 2022, mandating that producers fund collection and reuse efforts, and banning the destruction of unsold items. Targets are ambitious: 70% waste reduction by 2028, ramping up to 90% by 2036. But what the policy lacks is a clear financial incentive for the industrial partners to kick into action. As recently as March 2024, Re:NewCell filed for bankruptcy due to a lack of financial support. I’m not saying that the state should support flailing entrepreneurial ventures, but there clearly isn’t enough pressure on the likes of national-pride fashion giant H&M to support the development of scalable fibre recycling and sorting efforts. Meanwhile, asking citizens to sort their clothes into an invisible system sounds like asking fans to applaud a show that never starts.
That said, there is at least one role model for Sweden in Europe. France, the home of haute couture, elegance, patience, and staying power is ironically slaying fast fashion faster than any other EU country. The key difference: sharp policy and execution. France made EPR happen in textiles with state-run Refashion which has been operational since 2007, quietly funding collection bins, reuse networks and sorting lines. Brands, retailers, and importers placing textiles on the French market are required to register with Refashion and pay fees based on the volumes, material types, and perceived recyclability of products. The organisation sets fee tiers that encourage sustainable design, lowering producer costs for better, easier-to-recycle materials, and increasing fees for complex or synthetic-heavy textiles.
Now France is doubling down. This June, while Sweden was getting ready for its regulatory backtrack, the French Senate approved a sweeping anti‑fast‑fashion bill: imposing eco‑taxes starting at €5 per item in 2025, rising to €10 by 2030 (capped at 50% of price), banning all advertising and influencer promotion of ultra‑fast fashion, and demanding transparent eco‑score displays at point of sale. If you flout it, expect real penalties.
Any chance Sweden will catch up? “Affaire à suivre…” as they say in Paris. According to the government’s press release, Sweden’s reform is only part one and a next instalment is expected to be released this autumn.
