In contemporary soccer, the lifespan of a jersey is measured in weeks. One transfer, one new sponsor, one aggressive commercial strategy, and the newly launched uniform already becomes obsolete. Uefa estimates that up to 60 percent of the kits used by players are destroyed at the end of the season: there would be over a billion jerseys in circulation, many of which quickly end up in landfills. A continuous flow that feeds a consumption pattern increasingly close to the fast fashion.
Creativity versus waste
Countering this drift is an international network of ateliers and independent brands working on salvage. Hattie Crowther, founder of the Soft Armour project, makes sculptural headwear and accessories from old Arsenal, Liverpool and Paris Saint-Germain uniforms. “I’m not here to add products, but to reformulate what’s already out there and give it context and longevity,” she explained to the Guardian. It’s anapproach shared by designers such as Renata Brenha and Christelle Kocher and by independent brands that turn jerseys into dresses, down jackets, and dresses.
In London, the Vintage Threads store offers a rework service that allows fans to convert their old jerseys into customized garments. The demand comes mostly from women, who are interested in more fitted and versatile designs. “They’re looking for something closer to their style,” says Caitlin Finan, project manager. The price is higher than a standard jersey, but it ensures a fairer supply chain and smaller-scale production.
The return of value
At the same time, interest in vintage is growing. Online searches for retro jerseys are soaring, fueled in part by the visibility given by celebrities and influencers. “Every jersey has a story,” Gary Bierton, co-founder of the retailer Classic Football Shirts, noted to the English newspaper. A symbolic value that sometimes exceeds the sporting one: colors and graphics become fashion elements in their own right, independent of the team of reference.
According to the nonprofit Green Football campaign, extending the life of a jersey by nine months can reduce the impact on emissions, water consumption and waste generation by up to 30 percent. Workshops in schools, collections and fan exchanges try to intercept this sensitivity by bringing the topic of sustainability inside stadiums.
Beyond recycling
However, the structural issue remains open. Modern jerseys are made almost exclusively of virgin polyester, a plastic derived from petroleum: cheap and high-performing, but energy-intensive and responsible for the release of microplastics. Meanwhile, production continues to increase: clubs like Bayern Munich have gone from three kits in four years to about twenty in the same period.
For Joanna Czutkowna, a consultant in sports sustainability, the turning point comes from adopting circular economy models: design designed for reuse, integrated second-hand markets, and internal recovery chains within clubs. “Why sell a jersey once when it can circulate five or six times?” she pointed out. A prospect that could generate economic as well as environmental value.
Some clubs are beginning to move in this direction. Brighton has partnered with the FC88 brand to turn defective youth jerseys into accessories, reducing waste and engaging fans. But sustainability, warned founder Nicole Bekkers, must also be desirable: “If the product doesn’t look good, it doesn’t work.”
In global soccer, where volumes are huge and commercial pressure constant, upcycling remains a niche practice. Yet it shows that another trajectory is possible: slow down, reuse, rethink. Give jerseys time to tell more than one season’s story.
