When fast fashion destroys itself- The end of Forever 21 and confessions of an ex employee
How fast fashion can't even keep up with itself and how Fast Fashion companies exploit their employess overseas and at home.
1image from The Atlantic
It’s official—Forever 21 is closing all of its stores by May 2025. This OG fast fashion giant fell into the trap of the ever-changing fast fashion consumer and business cycle.
Born in Highland Park, sunny California, Forever 21 was the brainchild of an immigrant couple from South Korea who invested $11,000 and turned it into millions.
2 The first forever 21 in Highland park
By 2014-2015, Forever 21 was the “it-girl” brand in mall culture and fashion. At its peak—alongside Tumblr and the rise of the King Kylie era—it catered to all aesthetics and budgets. Their $3 basic leggings were a staple for every teenage girl, often paired with a flannel and Vans.
They understood their audience: trendy, budget-conscious shoppers, including middle schoolers whose moms loved a good deal. But as inflation rose, the massive, multi-story stores—like the one at the Arcadia Mall—became harder to sustain.
By 2019, many Forever 21 locations were rundown. Then came COVID, and suddenly, no one was risking their lives for $3 leggings that would rip in the wash (unless you were one of the Karens who harassed me for closing early to follow COVID guidelines).
The stores became ghost towns, with shorter hours and tons of leftover inventory that was supposed to fuel a major back-to-school sale. But what was the point? No one was going to school. No one was going to work in person. Everyone was just trying to survive, stuck at home, battling isolation and longing for normalcy.
Then everything started to reopen—slowly but surely—and people scrambled to get their lives together just as they had adjusted to being at home. (I still had to work through most of the pandemic, so I didn’t get to stay home much.) Meanwhile, TikTok and Instagram were flooded with new content creators who started posting simply out of boredom. Hauls. Tons of hauls. “Must-haves.” A never-ending cycle of materialism, fueled by a need for validation and an attempt to fill a void.
Forever 21 filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in early 2019 and remained in financial limbo throughout the pandemic, eventually being bought out by mall property owners. We thought this might save it—pull it out of bankruptcy—but no matter how much money you throw at a company, if you keep the same bad, irresponsible management, nothing will change.
If you haven’t realized already, I worked at Forever 21 beginning in 2019 while attending college full-time. I started as a sales associate and eventually joined the visual merchandising team. Instead of clocking in at 3:00 PM and closing, I was now clocking in at 3:00 AM and working until I had to go to school. Rinse and repeat for about two years—until I finally realized this was straight-up exploitation.
They never paid me a visual merchandiser’s wage, even though my responsibilities were far beyond those of a sales associate or cashier. We worked closely with the CEO and corporate. I hated them. Loathed them. They would stroll in with Starbucks in hand, locking their Maseratis behind them, and half-heartedly apologize for being an hour late while we anxiously scrambled to finish our never-ending tasks.
They spent most of their time shopping. Touching everything, saying, “Oh, so cute!” or “Do you have this in a medium?”—giggling like besties on a shopping spree while my team and I tried to stay out of their way, like we were the others.
We were like servants. Couldn’t talk too much. Had to smile. Had to greet people who couldn’t even remember our names, despite seeing us for the fifth time that month. My supervisor would ring them up at the register as they hauled piles of clothes onto the counter, swiping a gold AMEX without even glancing at the card reader.
They’d do a walkthrough of each department while my supervisor explained our plan—going over line sheets and the outfit ideas from the corporate directive for window mannequins. They ignored every single suggestion about what was actually selling and what wasn’t. A week later, they would order 200 units of the pants we explicitly told them not to order because no one was buying them.
I was constantly frustrated. Muttering under my breath, How did these people get jobs as buyers? How were they getting paid more than me to just shop at 8:00 AM? What did they even do? Meanwhile, I was busting my ass for under minimum wage, ruining my mental health—for what?
I loved my job. The action. The responsibility. Being surrounded by clothes all day. Piecing things together to create a cohesive look. This was what I was going to school for.
But they ruined it. I quit. I knew my worth. I deserved more. And honestly? I wished nothing but the worst for the company. I can’t help but feel giddy thinking about all those corporate people who thought they were so high and mighty, now watching their empire crumble. But I also feel for my former coworkers—the ones who made my time there bearable.
Forever 21 got its karma. Its downfall was a result of mismanagement, greed, and exploitation—not just of employees like me, but also of the workers overseas who made those cheap clothes. How did a small family business—one that intentionally printed a Bible verse on the bottom of its bags—end up treating its employees so horribly?
I recently went into a store about a week before they announced their closure, just to visit a friend. I saw the prices and who did they think they were? Urban Outfitters? $49 for a dress? $50 for jeans? I literally gasped—the quality was worse than before, but the prices were higher. Then, I saw the Shein Returns Accepted Here sign. At that moment, I knew it wouldn’t last long.
And honestly? I’m glad.
This fast fashion giant is finally gone. Now, we’ve set our sights on Shein, Temu, and whatever new fast fashion brand pops up next. Forever 21 probably started with the pride of its hardworking owners, but it turned into something ugly—driven by greed, toxic practices, and exploitation.
Malls will start closing as these staple mall brands drop like flies. But we have a choice: continue the fast fashion cycle, or maybe—just maybe—consume less and take care of the clothes we already have. Small changes add up when made collectively.
You don’t need a $500 Shein haul. You don’t need whatever you saw on TikTok. You don’t need a new outfit every week. This cycle of consumption is not normal, nor is it healthy.
So, farewell to Forever 21—devoured by the very industry that created it.
3 store closing from statesman journal
https://images.app.goo.gl/Q1FWnJgwvFbZ4Bbq6
https://x.com/militantangleno/status/1901813343561900319
https://www.statesmanjournal.com/story/news/2025/03/17/forever-21-oregon-locations-closing/80043626007/