Why creating an environmentally-conscious brand no longer means starting with sustainability.
Material pioneers Everbloom could easily lead with the fact that in a $994 billion market, two thirds of global fiber is currently fossil-fuel-based and non-biodegradable synthetics.
It could headline how production alone drains a staggering 1.3 billion barrels of oil each year (more than Spain’s annual consumption) and makes up the largest source of microplastic pollution in the world’s oceans.
It could photograph scraps of material left abandoned on dusty floors. Open its website with a backs-against-the-wall manifesto. Or adopt a pleasant, rounded and naturally organic typeface.
But it doesn’t have to. And to get into the hands of the businesses who can actually elicit the global change it’s after, arguably, it shouldn’t.
YOU DON’T HAVE TO WEAR SUSTAINABILITY ON YOUR SLEEVE
Now let’s be real, Everbloom’s far from the first business to weigh up whether it’s better to lead with a planet or product narrative. Since branding gained a conscience in the 1970s with the birth of iconic value-led activists like Patagonia, Ben & Jerry’s and Body Shop, the balance between “green” and “sheen” has been ever present.
However, recent history is showing the surge of sustainability might be slowing down.
Take the supermarket aisle for starters. No-one has achieved planet-first, plant-based supremacy quite like Oatly. Launched in the 90s, it was sold on its functionality, health benefits and radical ability to get milk from an oat. However, under new leadership in 2012, that message shifted from niche product to bold, cultural statement, with the udderly delicious “wow, no cow” raining down from every billboard on Earth.
You’d think such an impact would’ve turned the tide for good. “If the humble oat can reach such heights, surely we can…”
But then you pick up a pack of Beyond Sausages, and see the reverse. While it started out with serious sustainability clout, the meat alternative now mainly leads on taste, texture and, increasingly, protein count. Why? Because to take a bite out of the mainstream, it had no choice but to talk to people’s literal appetite. And as much as we’d all love to believe it, the majority of time-poor families aren’t picking out dinner on its carbon credentials. They want something tasty, and they want it now.
IF IT’S OF NO USE TO THE PLANET, WHAT USE IS IT?
Sainsbury’s fridges might be a good place to start this argument, but it gets even meatier when you start looking at the world’s most sought-after brands—and company Everbloom would love to keep. Aesop, Nothing and Polestar are all extremely sustainable brands, but is that really where your head goes when you think about them?
Take Aesop. Its objective to formulate skin, hair and body care products of the finest quality is embedded through intelligent, sustainable design. But the experience they broadcast to the world leads more on aesthetics, rituals and the senses, elevating everyday skincare to heights it’s never seen before. People ultimately choose them because they are the best at what they do—its “green” credentials are just part of the package.
In tech, some say sustainability is simply a sexier word for compromise, and a solid excuse if performance isn’t up to scratch. Nothing disagrees. It sees reduction as a positive, reframing it from ethical tick-boxing to a catalyst for future design. Its focus falls on creating world-class products to battle tech bloat, with transparent casing, minimal UI and new-age art direction emphasising the point. Here, sustainability acted as inspiration before becoming an inevitable (and very positive) byproduct.
Polestar has taken a similar tact, engaging buyers with its “design purity,” “instant power” and “software-defined driving.” A beautifully technical identity doesn’t make its range of vehicles any less sustainable, but it does speak to drivers in a way they probably need to drop a cool $60,000. Indeed, Polestar openly acknowledges there’s a need to create as much desirability as accountability.
And maybe that’s what sums the world up right now. Perhaps we’ve become so accustomed to any business having to be underpinned by good, green credentials to succeed, we’ve become blind to sustainability. Perhaps it’s now just table stakes, and we need something more to up the ante.
LOOKS AS GOOD AS IT DOES
That's certainly the thinking at Everbloom.
Its team has never shied away from the fact the product and, in particular the way it feels, is more important to their audience than sustainability. And while technical buyers—the mills, brands and product designers—kind of care how the material is manufactured, if it doesn’t emulate the original fabrics, they’d have no hesitation going with a less planet-friendly option.
Thankfully, Everbloom has zero question marks over the quality of its next-generation fibres and, from day one, it’s been determined to ensure this was conveyed across every aspect of the identity.
Chief of which is the monogram. Replicating the weaving process and accompanied by a refined wordmark, it’s designed to speak the language of high fashion and share a label with the icons Everbloom aspires to work with. Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dior—fashionhouses capable of changing the course of fabric overnight.
Below this, the brand is given depth by texture and tactility. Transparency creates a softness to communications you want to reach out and touch, imagery magnifies the detail of the material, not people donning the final garments, and the voice isn’t afraid to use more ink to make a more poetic point.
And there tying it all together—and exemplifying the very basis of this article—is the product. Literal threads hanging on every asset, each exists for no reason but to shine a light on what Everbloom does.
It’s not about waste, lowered emissions, or the planet. It simply communicates the idea that you’ve never felt anything like Everbloom before.
© 2025 How&How Ltd