Fabric: The Natural History and Future of Clothing
By Tierney Thys and Carroll Dunham
Today, 65% of the world’s clothing is spun from petroleum. Every wash releases microfibers into oceans, soil, and even our own cells. Yet the story of fabric is also the story of renewal- if we learn to reweave it.
In Fabric, marine biologist Tierney Thys and medical anthropologist Carroll Dunham travel from coral reefs to mountain grasslands, tracing how the threads that clothe us connect to the living world. They meet weavers reviving ancient fibers and innovators growing microbial fabrics that breathe, heal, and compost back into the soil. From barkcloth and yak wool to lab-grown silk, Fabric explores a world beyond petroleum, where textiles become regenerative rather than extractive.
Blending science, anthropology, and storytelling, Thys and Dunham reveal how fashion’s future lies in biology itself in the microbes that shape our skin, dye our fabrics, and may one day replace the refinery. Along the way, they confront textile waste, fast fashion, and the myth of disposability, showing how design, mending, and mindful making can help restore our relationship with the Earth.
Fabric is a journey through time and matter, tracing how what we wear could help heal the planet and ourselves.
Fabric is set to be published this February 2027.
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From coral reefs to mountain steppes, this book was shaped by people who see the world differently and helped us show it.
We feel incredibly blessed to have built this community along the way.
Some we’ve known for years- friends and collaborators whose journeys have long been intertwined with ours. Others we first encountered through their work, quietly shaping how we see the world. And many we met only through this process of research, strangers at first, who became part of this story through their generosity.
What moved us most was how, without hesitation, so many opened their archives, shared their creations, and trusted us with their work. What could have been just pages of text became something far richer, layered with image, texture, and life.
Because of them, this book is not just something to read, but something to experience.
We hope and truly believe that when readers hold Fabric in their hands this September, they will feel that same sense of connection and wonder.
If this journey has shown us anything, it is this: when curiosity, care, and creativity meet, people come together with an openness that makes the world feel, undeniably, like a better place.
Anecdotes from our Photo Research Team
Sometimes, the best parts of a project come from a simple ask.
While gathering images for the book, we came across a striking photograph by Daniel C. Waugh, a close-up detail of the caftan of the Yingpan man. We reached out with a straightforward request to include just that one image.
What came back was something far more generous. After taking the time to explore our work at ATW80Fabrics, Daniel responded not only with permission but with curiosity and kindness. He shared that through his travels across Asia - documenting the vast cultural threads of the Silk Roads - he had captured many moments of textile traditions: weaving, spinning, lotus fiber processing, ground looms, and more. And then, without hesitation, he offered to share them.
“I am always happy to donate the photos for good projects,” he wrote.
That one email turned into a meaningful collaboration. Today, our book is richer with his images—each one carrying a story, a place, and a continuity of craft across time.
It’s a quiet reminder that behind every archive, every photograph, and every contribution, there are people who believe in sharing knowledge freely and generously.
Some images feel almost out of reach—until, unexpectedly, they aren’t.
We knew we needed the iconic photograph of David Bowie in the striped bodysuit designed by Kansai Yamamoto for the Aladdin Sane tour, captured by Masayoshi Sukita in 1973. It was one of those defining images that could anchor an entire narrative, but also one we assumed would be difficult, if not impossible, to secure.
We sent a hopeful email to a general contact address we found on his website, not expecting much. In parallel, we began exploring other routes—reaching out to museums and collectors, bracing ourselves for complex permissions and likely high fees. And then… a month later, a reply arrived.
It was from Aki Sukita, Masayoshi Sukita’s nephew, who manages his work. Not only did he respond warmly, but he shared a high-resolution version of the image with us and simply asked for credit in return.
No negotiations, no barriers - just generosity. Moments like this quietly shape the soul of a project. They remind us that even the most iconic works are, at their heart, part of a shared cultural story and that sometimes, the people who protect them are also the ones most willing to pass them on.
