After five years of trailblazing as a plus-size apparel entrepreneur, Raquel VĂ©lez recently shuttered her outdoor apparel company, , due to a lack of profit.

Alpine Parrot was one of a handful of outdoor brands dedicated to the plus-size market, which makes up more than 65 percent of Americans. VĂ©lez started with sizes 14-24 and ultimately expanded to size 30. Her biggest sellers were sizes 22 and 26, she said.

“Stopping isn’t the same as quitting,” said VĂ©lez, who started the company in 2019 after she fell in love with skiing but found she had limited options for gear as a plus-sized woman. She left her work in the tech space, took up sewing, and self-funded Alpine Parrot for the first two years before opening up to investors such as REI. All along, her mission was to make clothing that allowed those with bigger bodies to feel comfortable and confident in nature.

Since announcing the decision in late 2024, she said she has had legions of customers and fans reach out disappointed because they were rooting for the brand.

“Whether you were a customer, a cheerleader, or simply someone who believed in our mission, you’ve been an integral part of this adventure. Together, we’ve made a genuine impact on people’s lives and pushed the outdoor industry to rethink inclusivity,” VĂ©lez wrote in the brand’s .

Ultimately, Alpine Parrot’s clothing wasn’t selling at a rate to support the company or future product.

In the blog announcing the closing, VĂ©lez cited consumer spending habits, outdoor industry inventory challenges, rising interest rates, cashflow issues, the company’s ability to secure loans, and the culture’s shift from body neutrality to diet culture in the advent of weight loss medications.

Meanwhile, she told us, retailers didn’t have the bandwidth to adapt their stores to meet the needs of the plus-size shopper, who has very different retail patterns. For example, straight-size shoppers find the style and look for their size, VĂ©lez said. Plus-size shoppers, on the other hand, look for their size (which often isn’t there) and then considers style.

Also, Vélez said she had trouble winning folks over on the value proposition. She tried to explain how the price included her ethical sourcing and living wage, but it proved to be too high,  even though she sold her Pondorosa name pants for $139, which is about average in outdoor gear.

The pants sold when discounted, she said, and her inventory flew quickly when on final sale. Had that much volume been sold at full price, Alpine Parrot would have been able to hold out a bit longer, she said. Any remaining items were donated to non-profit organizations where the product will be loved long after Alpine Parrot closes its doors.

VĂ©lez’s work and advocacy made space for other up-and-coming brands, said Arwen Turner, co-founder of  , which also specializes in plus-size pants.

“Alpine Parrot paved the way for plus-size-owned brands to finally be seen, heard, and legitimized in the outdoor industry,” Turner said. “As a plus-size adventurer, walking into a shop and finding hiking pants beyond a size 2X made for plus-size bodies on the rack—getting to try them on and then spotting them out in the wild on friends—is nothing short of a game changer. It was the start of something much bigger, not the end.”

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As I stood atop a hill surrounded by gorgeous Vermont foliage with my friend and fellow plus-size adventurer , we found ourselves chatting with a guy who asked how we met.

Turner shared that she found my book at REI. The story inspired her to return to hiking, something she had fallen out of love with as a plus-size person, because she didn’t feel like she belonged in the outdoors.

The guy turned to me, looked at my size-26 hips, and asked, “So, you hiked Kilimanjaro metaphorically?”

“No, in real life,” I said. “Three times.” Here we were again, showing up in nature and having to prove we deserved to be there.

As a consultant who helps brands connect with the plus-size market ( in the next decade, growing from $601.7 billion in 2022, according to ), I find getting people to believe in the business potential of extended sizes is also an uphill climb, loaded with stereotypes and stigma.

There are cautionary tales of . There are the timeworn protests that making bigger sizes is too hard and too expensive. There’s even a moral judgment about weight, the perception that someone’s size is their own “fault,” and the resulting questions: Why should we, as business owners, accommodate folks in larger bodies? Why can’t they be responsible for themselves? (Even when diet culture again and again has disproved itself.)

You can’t tell someone’s story from looking at their body. Take me for example: I’ve weighed 300 pounds or more for most of my adult life. I carry most of it between my navel and my knees because of a condition called lipedema and I struggled with and recovered from binge eating disorder. And yet, I’ve also climbed Kilimanjaro three times. I’m always looking for my next adventure (Mont Blanc Summer 2023 or bust).

My own social media channels () are magnets for the “promoting obesity” cries of righteousness over BMIs and muscle tone. If these naysayers and trolls were so concerned about weight, wouldn’t they want to encourage people to get moving and to seek the physical and mental health benefits of the outdoors?

Body size isn’t a reflection of someone’s desire to be outdoorsy. Plus-size people aren’t in many (if any) marketing materials. We are omitted from the in-person retail experience and told to find our sizes online. We are the butt of jokes when it comes to falling out of chairs or making the catastrophic splash when jumping in a pool.

Kelly Davis, Outdoor Industry Association’s Director of Research, said skiers, particularly plus-size women skiers, have been excluded because they can’t find winter apparel or gear that fits. The International Journal of Fashion Design found that the average American woman is size 16-18 which often corresponds to Women’s Plus size 2X. Many outdoor apparel brands including Columbia, Eddie Bauer, Athleta are working to make plus size apparel available, but it’s still a challenge for plus size women to find technical outerwear that fits.

“It takes this from a sizing issue to an access issue,” said Davis. “All Americans should have access to the tools, including technical apparel and hard goods, to enjoy the outdoors comfortably and safely.”

The problem goes way beyond apparel. It extends into the travel, hardgoods, vehicles and personal care markets, and the fact that many business owners aren’t addressing it is, frankly, an oversight. The fact is, 40 percent of the adult U.S. population is obese. Sixty-seven percent of American women wear a size 14 or higher. If your brand sells its products and services only to standard-size people, you’re missing two-thirds of the total addressable market—and jockeying with your competitors over the same 33 percent.

And some folks in larger bodies have had some pretty traumatic shopping experiences: being ushered out of stores and told to shop online, being judged and shamed with things such as unsolicited diet advice.

Bad experiences aren’t just something to shrug off. They can be humiliating events that make guests swear off travel or trying new things. And when it comes to the plus-size market, our pockets are deep (more than $40 billion in buying power in apparel alone) and our memories are long. There is much work to be done to rebuild trust and connect in a way that not only leads to profit but also deep brand loyalty and appreciation for the fact your company is welcoming us to the outdoors.

The good news is, there’s plenty of room for authentic growth in this segment of the outdoor industry. Below are three brands already serving the plus-size market, and boosting their bottom lines because of it.

Alder Apparel

Mikayla Wujeck, co-founder of the plus-size gear brand Alder Apparel, has taken her company from zero to $5 million in annual revenue in three years, all by designing products exclusively for this underserved market. In 2022, Alder also received an investment from Path Ahead Ventures, REI’s newly formed venture arm that supports diversity in the outdoor industry.

“The outdoor industry has a really narrow depiction of what it means to be outdoorsy,” said Wujec. “The white, ripped guy hanging off a glacier. I felt really isolated from that narrative.”

Along with her co-founder, Naomi Blackman, Wujec designed a line of clothing with a size range of XS to 6X. They created a brand identity that is colorful, playful, and expresses joy, to spread the message that plus-size people are allowed to have fun outside, just like everyone else.

Wujec said a non-negotiable in Alder’s agreement with REI was that, for every piece displayed in stores, every size has to be carried, up to 6X. The brand also has a return policy that allows a 45-day window to try things on and if they don’t work, Alder provides a postage-paid return label.

There have been other considerations when connecting with the extended-size customers,  Wujec noticed it takes extended size shoppers far longer to decide to make a purchase – and to make subsequent purchases. This is true because the customer journey for people in extended sizes has been littered with trauma and disappointment.

When a company says they “can’t make larger sizes,” Wujec said it’s usually “hogwash”—a moral stance masquerading as a business argument. “It’s more of a statement of who they want wearing their clothes,” she said.

REI and Smartwool

A few seasons before the pandemic, REI approached Smartwool saying there is a need for base layers in the plus-size space. Denise Anderson, head of global marketing at Smartwool said they were glad to take on the challenge and were grateful for a larger partner such as REI to make it happen.

Smartwool’s fit patterns and colors were thought out and tested carefully because a base layer fits so close to the skin and is the cornerstone to comfort in the outdoors.

Making it wasn’t the only challenge. Smartwool had to bring in a whole new set of customers, who weren’t used to finding their sizes on REI shelves (or in other outdoor retailers). Anderson said they needed to take a grassroots approach to rewrite that narrative.

Smartwool enlisted Fat Girls Hiking (a body positive hiking community), sent product kits to 200 plus-size influencers, and hosted a leadership retreat with members to engage in conversation and get feedback.

Smartwool now has 11 styles (64 colors/sizes) in extended sizes and has sold more than 15,000 units to 140 accounts including Eastern Mountain Sports, Dick’s Sporting Goods, and Scheels for Fall of 2022. REI is carrying the extended sizes products in all stores and on their drop ship/digital platform.

Smartwool and Alder aren’t the only brands that come in plus-sizes at REI Co-op. REI recently launched a collaboration with Outdoor Afro where pants range from men’s 28 to 50 and women’s 0 to 26, and tops and jackets run up to 3XL.

L.L.Bean

L.L.Bean has offered inclusive sizing for more than 20 years but in Spring2022, it upped the ante. (Full disclosure: I work as an influencer for L.L.Bean).

“A lot of it came from listening to our customers,” said Alex Intraversato, L.L.Bean’s VP of Merchandising, Men’s & Women’s Apparel, Equipment. “They wanted the same colors and sizes as everyone else.”

Intraversato said the mix of middle sizes and extended sizes is highly complex. “We didn’t want to add this and take away from the middle sizes. We had to be additive in a smart way.”

Bean now  offers approximately 300 styles in Women’s Petite and Plus and more than 300 Men’s styles in up to XXXL.

The company instituted a one-price policy, meaning that folks pay the same whether XS or 3XL. (Increased pricing for plus sizes is common. According to a 2021 report from Statistica, the average selling price for plus size jeans in the U.S. was three U.S. dollars more than jeans in standard  sizes. ) And Bean regularly shows diverse body types across all of its channels, from e-commerce to catalogs to social media.

The result: Its extended size assortment is on target to sell 20 percent more in 2022 versus 2021, and Bean is  just getting started. In 2023, it will add size-inclusive hardgoods– camping chairs, sleeping bags, and backpacks.

“Offering inclusive sizes not only makes good business sense, it’s the right thing to do. Our purpose is to inspire and enable people to experience the restorative power of being outside, and that is true for all people and all body types,’ Intraversato said.

Kara Richardson Whitely is the CEO of The GORGEous Agency, helping clients attain growth and connection with the plus-size market. The name is a nod to her book , which is being made into a movie with This Is Us actress Chrissy Metz producing and starring as her. Learn more at .

The post The Plus-Size Outdoor Apparel Market Is Booming appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

When I was planning my first Kilimanjaro climb nearly two decades ago, plus-size women’s apparel wasn’t a thing. As a size-26 woman, I wore an XXL men’s jacket that pulled tightly across my hips. The cuffs hung several inches below my fingertips. The shoulders and collar were boxy, letting the wind inside. All in all, I was cold and uncomfortable in ill-fitting clothes as I inched toward the 19,343-foot summit.

Back then, everything in my gear closet either fit poorly or was retrofitted. My pants were custom-created by a tailor who took two pairs of TravelSmith trousers and sewed them together so they would fit me. Perhaps even more painful: when I went into an outdoor shop—even for something unrelated to my size, like a pair of boots or a water bottle—I’d have to share my long rĂ©sumĂ© of hiking escapades to feel like the sales staff took me seriously.

That was back in the early aughts, before many in the outdoor community accepted this fact: being plus size is average. Today, I’m an influencer, board member, and brand advisor for many outdoor companies and organizations that share the philosophy that every body is an outdoor body.

There is more than a moral case for the industry to embrace body diversity and inclusion in its product offerings and marketing. There is a business case as well.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 73.6 percent of all U.S. adults over age 20 are overweight or obese, and the average woman wears a size 16. The plus-size women’s apparel market was valued at $29.8 billion in 2019 and is expected to grow to $46.6 billion (13 percent of the total U.S. apparel market) by the end of 2021, according to Statista, which specializes in consumer data and marketing. And yet, only one-eighth of clothing options are offered in plus sizes (anything above size 36 for men and 12 for women).

Scaling to Fit

It makes me wonder: Why has it taken so long for brands to embrace larger sizes? I believe that many companies don’t consider plus-size people outdoor recreationists. When seeking partnerships for my adventures and documentary projects, brands have outright told me I didn’t fit their image.

One logistical reason for this sizing gap may be that creating an extended size line is fraught with judgment. When Nike unveiled plus-size mannequins in 2019, critics lambasted the company for promoting obesity.

And, of course, the mechanics of extended sizing are complex. A company cannot just take its biggest size and make it bigger. People carry weight in different ways, so the process of extending a line is almost double the work. Brand-new patterns must be created. There are friction points (such as between the thighs) to consider in terms of durability and skin sensitivity. And designers must determine if the item’s cut will hold larger swaths of fabric in place while a plus-size adventurer like myself is in action.

Then, retailers have to carry additional inventory. And those products cannot just be tucked into a dark corner of a shop or website with zero marketing. They won’t sell that way, and when they don’t sell, companies abandon the lines.

Things are changing. At Outdoor Retailer Summer 2021, GCI Outdoor’s display caught my eye. Finally, someone was making chairs that would actually fit my behind! On Kilimanjaro, I was forced to sit on buckets instead of the too-small camp chairs provided by our guides.

“We absolutely are trying to market to a bigger America, and there are a lot of reasons for it,” said Jeffrey Polke, one of the founders and co-president of GCI Outdoor. Of course, Polke wants more people to enjoy the outdoors, but gear for larger bodies also sells. In 2019, GCI introduced its Freestyle Rocker XL, a chair that is four inches wider than the regular size and able to accommodate up to 400 pounds. The XL version now accounts for 50 percent of rocker sales at Academy Sports + Outdoor stores (a sporting goods chain with more than 250 doors).

“It made us realize that we should do XL versions of other things,” Polke said. So far, the brand has five other XL chairs. “You don’t have to squeeze into something to feel like you fit in.”

A Seller’s Market

Extended sizes aren’t exactly new. A very small number of outdoor companies—like L.L.Bean, Columbia, and Eddie Bauer—have been serving the plus-size market for decades.

Andrea Kelly, senior merchandiser of extended sizes at Columbia Sportswear, has been a champion for plus-size outdoor clothing at the company for 11 years. About 15 years ago, 17 percent of the brand’s women’s clothing—typically the best-selling items—was offered in extended sizes. By spring 2023, that number will grow to 50 percent.

“The [plus-size] product we have is definitely in high demand,” said Kelly, who attributes Columbia’s success to its combination of good pricing and performance technologies, something that is often lacking in other plus-size lines of outdoor clothing. “We continue to see astronomical growth. The more we offer, the more it sells.”

Indeed, more and more companies are seizing this opportunity to grow their audience and revenue.

In 2020, Gregory Mountain Products launched its new Plus Size line, designed to fit people with up to 60-inch waists. Since then, other established brands, such as Smartwool and Outdoor Research, have introduced extended sizes in some products. REI has also expanded plus-size collections.

Entire companies have even launched around the premise of serving the plus-size market. Raquel VĂ©lez is a size-16 skier who was forced to wear rain pants over sweatpants because she couldn’t find good technical ski pants. “As a size 16, I am literally average,” VĂ©lez said. “The fact that I was unable to find anything that fit me was a true mind-boggler.” So VĂ©lez, who has a background in engineering, took up sewing and pattern-making and created her own apparel company, Alpine Parrot, in 2019.

Like other clothing companies, VĂ©lez uses algorithmic grading to adjust the patterns from size 14 up. She also diversified her fit model approach. Instead of relying on a single model, she used 30 people to test her patterns.

Arwen Turner and Kara Hardman, who founded the startup Wndr Outdoor, had also struggled to find clothes that worked. Turner remembers learning that a brand she loved would be launching plus-size gear. But the size range came up too short for her. “It’s almost worse when a company says they are size inclusive and their stuff still doesn’t fit you,” Turner said. “It’s like being rejected twice.” That’s why Wndr plans to launch its pants this fall in sizes up to 30.

We’ve all seen the data that outdoor participation exploded during the pandemic. If, in line with the CDC’s figures, three-quarters of those new participants are overweight, outdoor companies should be actively seeking to serve this market. “This is an epic opportunity that can no longer be overlooked,” Turner said.

“I don’t think most people realize what it’s like to have ill-fitting clothing for most of your life and then have the epiphany of wearing something that fits,” VĂ©lez said. “It’s completely transformational.”

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This article was first published by .

“How do you tell  hikers from  hikers?” the man who went by the trail name Trash said, holding three fingers in the air.

I looked up at his tall, trim physique. He smirked, highlighting crow’s feet wrinkles on his perfectly sun-kissed face in a way that showed he thought the answer would be hilarious. “It’s BBB.”

“Boots?” I answered, looking down at my own, woefully inadequate, pair. My toes banged against rocks in the otherwise cushy trail runners I wore to soften my steps on this humid June day. I knew I’d end the summer with fewer toenails than I’d started with.

“Nope,” Trash said, shaking his head.

I sat perplexed with my fleshy bottom folding over a mound of quartz. I was having a Honey Stinger caramel waffle with my hiking partner and friend, Allie (trail name: June Bug). Our overloaded backpacks for our first overnight on this trail were flung to the side of the path. A sweat-soaked Long Trail thru-hiker named Kick Flip, one of the few solo female hikers we encountered, had just caught up with us. We had been giggling about the nudist couple wearing nothing but boots, kneepads, and backpacks—because why the kneepads?  That’s when Trash strode into our space.

“It’s big backpacks and . . . ” Trash looked around with the air of a school teacher waiting for one of us to figure out the puzzle. “Body fat.”

Long silence ensued.

“Well, then,” Kick Flip said before continuing on, “I guess I qualify.”

We shook our heads as Trash went on and on about the sections of the AT he had “conquered” thus far, followed by his adventures out West.

He didn’t look me in the eye. Instead, he looked past me to Allie and asked her trail name. He stopped to pick up a wrapper near our resting spot, explaining that’s why his alias is Trash. I finally offered my trail name to him mid-conversation. “I’m known as Mama Kubwa.”

You can guess what it means even if you don’t know the language. It was the name I earned hiking —Africa’s highest peak at 19,343 feet—three times (in 2007, 2009, and 2011), while weighing as much as 300 pounds. Mama Kubwa is Swahili for “big woman,” a name that translated wherever I hiked—from trails around my suburban New Jersey home to the treacherous wet-chain descent to Mooney Falls in .

When I hiked Kilimanjaro the first time, I was the fattest female hiker the guides and porters had ever seen. Even when people weren’t calling me big or fat (which happened), I could feel them looking at me like I didn’t belong.

I had to buy a men’s jacket because it was the only thing that came in 3XL. It was boxy, the sleeves hung down several inches beyond my fingertips, and even though it zipped, it didn’t fit around my hips, so I had to pull it up, doubling it over from my waist down to mid belly. Even on my third trip to Kili, I had to stand up for myself when the porters and guides laughed at me. I told them to bet on Mama Kubwa.

They’d see.

After Kilimanjaro, I kept hiking. The more I showed up and the more I showcased myself as a person who loved and deserved to be out there, the more I would hear stories of other people like me doing the same.

But there was Trash jabbering on without giving me space to share my stories, because he assumed whatever stories I had weren’t worthy. And that’s the experience of the plus-size hiker: always having to prove myself, explain myself, justify myself.

I was sick of that “attagirl” look, as if I had only taken on adventures for weight loss. And as much as I hated the scowls, the shame about the space I take up in the woods, the unsolicited advice about fasts and keto—I needed to be here.

What Trash and other hikers don’t know about me is I’m not here to lose weight. I’m here to find my worthiness and rediscover the adventurer in me after a pandemic and a long absence from the trail. Trash didn’t want to know who I was, but I do.

The Long Trail’s outline as it traces ’s Green Mountains mirrors my own life’s journey to wellness and peace with my body. It’s a fragile sort of peace, easily shattered by a stranger’s joke, even now.

But hiking is something I must do even though it feels like I have 50-pound bags of flour attached to each leg. Even though arthritis swells beneath both of my knock knees. Even though I average a mile per hour on some trails. Even when I feel more like an animal than a person. Especially then.

I discovered binge eating when I was 9 and my parents were divorcing. I would chomp on walnuts in our pantry, or anything with a crunch loud enough to drown out the screaming.

The ensuing years of living a financially strapped life in a single-mother household, being a latchkey kid who came home and was kept company by snacks, solidified my relationship with food. I learned to stuff down my emotions with handful after handful of cereal or clandestine candy bars, wrappers crumpled in my purse.

It wasn’t until my 30s that adventure travel catalogs with glossy pictures of the Alps and Machu Picchu lured me back out of my shades-drawn room where I’d go from my bed to the television. When I first stepped foot into the woods near my home in New Jersey, it was an expedition. I was suited up with a bear bell, winter-grade wool socks, yoga pants, a hot pink T-shirt (for visibility, of course), a rain jacket (just in case on the clear day), and a food supply for three days in case I got lost from Watchung Reservation’s green trail, which has a book time of  20 minutes. Nevermind that if I wandered off the trail I probably would have ended up in a Target parking lot.

But those first steps into the forest were the ones that allowed me to feel again. Instead of pushing everything away with food, I started pulling it all in. I felt the cool air of a spring day on my skin. I could feel my boot sinking into the mud or cracking a twig underfoot. I could hear the wind in the trees, a song I’d spent decades missing without knowing it. And as I continued to hike, New Jersey flats turned into the snow-capped summit of Africa.

This isn’t the part where I tell you I lost 150 pounds. My relationship with food and the woods has been up and down—from Kilimanjaro to bariatric surgery. But I keep coming back.

I hiked miles upon miles to prepare myself for the Long Trail hike, and on that day, I was excited and ready. Then here was this hiker and his joke.

I had a choice: I could puff out my chest and suck in my belly. Or could I just be who I was. I stood up, shouldered my pack, and buckled the strap around my hips. Mama Kubwa was on the move.

The post How a Plus-Size Hiker Found Her Footing on the Trail appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

With all due respect to the many great outdoor sock brands out there, let’s be honest: For most consumers, socks are a commodity. So when the folks at Nester Hosiery, a North Carolina sock maker, decided to launch a private label line called Farm to Feet in 2013, they knew they had to do something that would help them stand out. They landed on two key things: First, they would build socks that relied completely on a U.S. supply chain. Second, they would embrace total transparency.

A prime example: When the leaders looked around the factory floor, they were appalled by the piles of wasted raw mate- rials they saw, and asked themselves how they could divert waste from the landfill. The result was the Remix collection, launched in 2019, which turns these excess fibers into new socks. “This allows us to extend the life of existing materials while we figure out how to create less waste in the future,” said Katie Kumerow, director of sustainability for Nester Hosiery.

Supply chain transparency is a fairly new concept. Fifteen years ago, nobody cared about where a product came from as long as it worked. But over the last decade—and even more so in the last five years—transparency has emerged as a key corporate value in the outdoor industry and beyond.

Not only are we seeing governments, stakeholders, and NGOs demanding information about where goods come from, consumers are demanding it.

“With the way people can track and trace everything these days, it’s very important to be open and honest,” said Ralph Oliva, professor of marketing at Smeal College of Business at Penn State University. Consumers are spending unprecedented time online researching the companies they support. That’s why, he says, more and more outdoor companies are lifting the veil when it comes to how they operate.

Farm to Feet drills into all aspects of its operation on its website, which features a prominent “Our Supply Chain” tab with a wealth of information about where its materials come from, how and where its socks are made, and the people involved in every step. The company has invested heavily in communicating its story via packaging, custom videos, and more.

Supply Chains Can Be Messy

Even if businesses find unsavory things when digging deep into their supply chains, these days it’s scarier not to be transparent about what you find. “Brands may discover things they aren’t proud of, but the best course is to fess up and admit it’s something they’re working on,” said Oliva. “The right customers will stay with you.”

Transparency does eventually pay off, says Alex Scott, assistant professor of supply chain management at Michigan State University. “When companies audit suppliers, develop trusting relationships with them, and write contracts with penalties for unethical behavior, it will eventually lead to increased sales. Our research shows that people will pay 2 to 10 percent more for products from companies that provide greater supply chain transparency.”

He emphasizes that transparency isn’t so much about perfection as it is about progress.

Leaders in Transparency

Patagonia was an early adopter of transparency. According to the 2020 Fashion Transparency Index, it ranked seventh among 250 apparel companies analyzed (see right).

 The Most Transparent Outdoor Companies

The 2020 Fashion Transparency Index ranks 250 large companies (with at least $400 million in annual sales) on their transparency in five categories: Policy & Commitments; Governance; Traceability; Know, Show & Fix; and Spotlight Issues.

These outdoor companies scored in the top 75 positions: Adidas (#3); Patagonia (#7); The North Face (#8, tied); Timberland (#8, tied); New Balance (#29); Helly Hansen (#60); Fjällraven (#69, tied); Mammut (#69, tied)

In 2012, Patagonia launched a blog called Footprint Chronicles with a simple mission: to “be completely honest about where our products come from and the resources required to create them.”

Vincent Stanley, Patagonia’s director of philosophy, has been involved with the blog from the beginning. Although he says it’s impossible to say how Patagonia’s transparency efforts have affected sales growth, it’s clear that the company’s honesty has created a lot of trust that they might not have had with products alone. “We make our values and how we act on them crystal clear,” said Stanley. “And we don’t shy away from talking about shortcomings.”

For example, in 2014, Patagonia published an article called “Patagonia’s Plastic Packaging: A Study on the Challenges of Garment Delivery.” In it, the company admitted that it was contributing to the world’s plastic problem via shipping the garments it sells in polybags. The article details a series of failed experiments aimed at finding more sustainable solutions, like roll-packing with twine and paper mailers. As of fall 2019, Patagonia switched to 100 percent recycled polybags that can be sent back to the company for recycling (a spokesperson reports that 25 percent of bags shipped get returned).

Keen also has a strong transparency track record and, like Farm to Feet, a wealth of information on its website detail- ing its efforts. An example: In 2013, Keen decided to examine its waterproofing treatments, which contained perfluorinated chemicals (PFCs) that have been linked to a host of health problems. The company got to work. After 1,000 hours of testing, they hit upon non-toxic, PFC-free alternatives that met their quality standards. To date, this change means Keen has avoided using more than 150 tons of perfluorinated chemicals. “It took cooperation and trust across our entire supply chain,” said Chris Enlow, senior director of philanthropy, advocacy, and sustainability. “We would never had gotten here without transparency.”

And it’s not just consumers that are looking to support this kind of transparency, says Enlow. “Retailers are also demanding it in order to curate responsible and sustainable collections in their shops.”

Lindsey Barr manages Blue Ridge Hiking Company in Asheville, North Carolina, which specializes in small batch ultralight gear. She says sourcing products with transparent supply chains gives them a leg up with customers. “It’s a way to differentiate what we sell from what everyone else sells,” she said.

Beyond the Supply Chain

Other types of corporate transparency are equally important. Transparency in diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts is also on the rise among outdoor companies and recent events have created a sense of urgency. “It’s imperative that to begin the work of DEI, a company must first be transparent—at least internally—about the racial diversity of their employees and their failures to recruit or maintain a diverse work force,” said Teresa Baker, founder of the Outdoor CEO Diversity Pledge.

Merrell, which signed the Pledge in early 2019, has fully embraced transparency in its DEI efforts and is among a handful outdoor brands doing an outstanding job, says Baker.

Merrell knows that looking into the mirror is key to driving meaningful change. “Since signing the Pledge, we’ve done brand-wide, formal, biannual training sessions on JEDI topics,” said Chris Hufnagel, global brand president. “We have a culture audit next month that will inform our 2021 team learning sessions, and we’ll also be implementing a scorecard to keep us moving forward. [Merrell will share the results of both with customers.] As we continue the journey to diversify our team, our Merrell senior leadership team now more closely reflects the diversity of the population.”

Transparency is the Future

Nester Hosiery’s Kumerow says brands need to be fearless in their transparency efforts. “By working to improve—whether it be supply chain or DEI efforts—and shooting straight, we’re opening the door for deeper connections and loyalty among our customers.”

And hopefully that will be the saving grace as brick-and-mortar retail comes out of coronavirus hibernation. Kumerow says that when that happens consumers will want—more than ever—for the products they purchase to align with their values. She thinks that will give brands like Farm to Feet, which shares openly, an edge over the competition.

In the end, the labels we wear are more than just labels. They stand for something, and most people want to know what they stand for.

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