Mrs. C. in 1887 wasn’t just being accused of overspending; she was being accused of the cardinal sin of womanhood: wanting to look beautiful for no practical reason. The term “frivolous” itself derives from the Latin frivolus , meaning “silly, trifling, of little value.” It’s a moral judgment wrapped in a legal term.

Even today, studies show that women’s “frivolous” purchases are scrutinized far more harshly than men’s equally unnecessary ones. A man buying a $1,000 watch is “investing in craftsmanship.” A woman buying a $1,000 dress is “being frivolous.” Ironically, just as the legal system is relaxing its grip on individual frivolity (thanks to consumer protection laws), the environmental movement is tightening its critique.

We’ve all been there. You’re having a rough week. Maybe a bad day at work, a fight with a friend, or just the relentless gray of February. So you do what any rational 21st-century human does: you open your phone. Within three clicks, a silky, emerald-green slip dress is winging its way to your apartment. You tell yourself you need it. But do you really?

The case involved a debtor, a Mrs. C. (names were often anonymized), who had filed for bankruptcy to escape a mountain of unpaid bills. Among the expenses listed in her schedule were a significant number of charges for clothing—specifically, silk dresses, beaded evening gowns, and elaborate hats.

From a sustainability perspective, most of our dress orders are frivolous. The average garment is worn only 7 times before being discarded. A “frivolous” dress in 1887 was a silk gown you wore for years. A “frivolous” dress today is a $15 fast-fashion polyester slip you wear once for an Instagram photo and then send to a landfill, where it will outlive your great-grandchildren.