We won an award. We’re still falling short.
October 21, 2026
By Jeff Scult, Founder & Designer, One Golden Thread
One Golden Thread has been named among The Sustainability Awards’ Top 100 Sustainable Companies for 2026. We were recognized for two aspects: reforestation, and plastic reduction.
TRUTH: Receiving an award with the word sustainability in its name feels both laudatory and slightly cringeworthy.
Don't get me wrong.
I'm deeply proud of our team, our makers, our partners, and every human who has chosen to wear these threads. This recognition belongs to all of them.
But there's something diabolically absurd about being celebrated for a word I've spent the better part of a decade challenging.
Because from day one in 2016, sustainability has been a head-scratcher for me.
It sounded an awful lot like maintainability.
And maintaining the mess humanity has made doesn't exactly sound like a winning strategy.
Sustainability never felt like the destination.
It wasn't even the baseline.
It was the beginning cost of entry.
Because what, exactly, are we trying to sustain?
A depleted planet?
An economic system that passes its true costs to workers, waterways, and future generations?
A slightly less damaging version of business as usual?
Congratulations, humanity. We've figured out how to destroy things a little more slowly.
Cue the applause.
Surely, we get to reach further.
If we're going to make something new in a world already carrying the weight of everything we've made, we owe that world more than a promise to do slightly less damage.
We get to give back more than it takes to create.
That is the ambition of regeneration.
And receiving recognition for our work makes me feel more accountable to that ambition, not less.
A SURPRISINGLY DEPRESSING DAY
In 2016, following the Global Sustainability Conference in Copenhagen, I was invited to participate in global sustainability conversations at the United Nations.
I expected to leave inspired.
For me, walking into the United Nations felt like it would be the equivalent of playing Horse with Michael Jordan.
The big leagues.
The place where humanity's greatest minds were gathering to alter the very trajectory of our planet.
Instead, I remember leaving profoundly depressed.
What stayed with me was the image of a podium dominated by older white men discussing the problem.
Discussing what "could" be done.
Discussing sustainability.
More discussion.
More language.
More declarations.
I had come hungry for transformation.
I left haunted by the distance between the language and the urgency.
To be clear, the UN's Sustainable Development Goals have actual targets and indicators. My frustration was with what I experienced in that room: too little visible accountability relative to the magnitude of the conversation.
Had we lost the plot?
That night, I stayed awake thinking about the words at the top of the page. What kept coming through was that it ambiguous to define, nebulous to model, and lacked measure. Basically a green-washed hall pass.
Words cast spells. We get to choose our spellings wisely.
What would shift if we began speaking about Global Regenerosity Goals?
Regeneration with generosity woven into it.
A commitment to replenish.
To repair.
To leave people and places more whole through our participation.
An infinite loop, as we are all RE: Sourced.
Because the conversation shouldn't end at how much less harm we can do.
It gets to begin with how much more life we can create.
I still believe that work is in its planetary infancy.
And so am I.
I'm about ten years into this journey. In the company of people who've devoted thirty years or more to transforming this industry, I'm a newbie.
And I'm listening.
A DEEP LISTENING TO INDUSTRY BEACONS
Marci Zaroff, an absolute stalwart in the industry, coined the term ECOfashion in 1995.
For more than three decades, she has helped connect what we wear with ecological responsibility, human wellbeing, and the systems behind our clothes.
Her work helped build the ground on which newer founders like me get to stand.
There are pioneers who have devoted their lives to moving this industry forward.
My challenge to the word sustainability comes with deep respect for their work and a desire to carry the conversation further alongside them.
I love crafting clothing that creates coherence of connection with self, others, and Earth.
I also feel responsible for questioning the industry I chose to enter.
Both feelings belong in the same room.
Here's the problem with treating sustainability as an endpoint.
Even if some companies achieve a genuine balance between what they take and what they return, others continue extracting, polluting, and passing the costs along.
The damage doesn't stop because a portion of us have learned to tread more lightly.
And the harm already done doesn't repair itself because we've improved this year's packaging.
When sustainability becomes a green box to check, a single responsible ingredient standing in for the story of an entire product, we risk rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.
A better chair doesn't change the direction of the ship.
We need businesses actively contributing to restoration while reducing the damage their operations cause.
We need to understand the whole cost of what we create.
Because the price tag never tells the whole story.
WHAT DOES THAT SHIRT ACTUALLY COST?
Who grew its fibers?
What happened to the soil and water along the way?
Who made it, under what conditions, and for what wage?
Was it placed in a plastic bag, then shipped inside another plastic package?
How long will it be worn?
Can it be repaired?
What happens when its useful life ends?
And who pays for the consequences that never appear on the receipt?
A low price can conceal a high cost.
A high price guarantees nothing about integrity.
We get to ask better questions at every price point.
And brands get to answer them.
At One Golden Thread, we've expressed our approach through six connected commitments, represented as a hexagon.
Together, they challenge us to consider the garment's entire journey:
- Materials rooted in nature. Consider both the source of a fiber and the processes that transform it.
- Biodegradable properties. Design with the end of use in mind, and be precise about what can break down and under which conditions.
- Purchases that replenish Earth. Build restoration into the business model.
- Plastic-free packaging and mailers. Carry the commitment through to delivery.
- Living wages for workers. Include the wellbeing of the people making the product.
- An ethical supply chain. Extend responsibility through the relationships behind every garment.
These are the six components I outlined in my earlier essay, RegenerNation.
The hexagon matters because no single side can stand in for the whole.
And because our ambition is to give back more to nature than it takes to create from nature.
Planting a tree does not excuse mistreating a worker.
A thoughtfully sourced fabric does not make its packaging irrelevant.
And calling something regenerative does not prove that its benefits outweigh its impacts.
That last point applies to us, too.
The Sustainability Awards' profile accurately credits One Golden Thread with over 200,000 trees planted and an equal number of products shipped in plastic-free packaging.
Those are meaningful steps, made possible by a community choosing to participate.
They're also part of a much larger accounting.
A tree count alone cannot tell the entire story of a garment's footprint.
We get to keep asking about materials, manufacturing, transportation, durability, and what happens afterward.
And perhaps most importantly, we get to remain curious enough to question our own answers.
WE WON AN AWARD. WE’RE STILL FALLING SHORT.
Our own Impact & Ethics page acknowledges that we have work ahead.
Improvements in dyeing.
Even greater manufacturing efficiency.
And 100% biodegradability across the collection. We're currently at approximately 98%.
That's been meaningful since our day 1.
It's also not 100%.
And pretending otherwise would make us part of the very problem we're trying to address.
An ambition earns credibility when we're willing to show where we're still falling short.
"Regenerative" can become another empty marketing word if we allow it.
Just like "sustainable."
The responsibility is to make it observable. To measure what we can, identify what we cannot yet substantiate, and keep improving.
In 2020, I wrote an essay called Sustainability Is Not the Answer, asking what would happen if we approached the UN global sustainability goals through regeneration.
Six years later, that question feels even more urgent.
Perhaps being recognized among a hundred companies gives us an opportunity to bring more people into that conversation.
My intention is that we use it well.
That more founders build restoration into their first business plans.
That more designers consider the person making the garment alongside the person wearing it.
That more customers feel empowered to ask what sits behind the label.
And that we remember something elemental:
We belong to the nature we're trying to protect.
For One Golden Thread, the work begins there.
THE MOST SUSTAINABLE THING WE COULD DO? NO THING.
Now, before anyone gets too comfortable standing on the sustainability soapbox, myself included, let's have a slightly uncomfortable conversation.
If we really want to talk about humanity's environmental footprint, we get to acknowledge something rather absurd.
One of the most environmentally responsible things we could do?
Stop flying in airplanes.
Stop driving cars.
Stop building and living in resource-intensive homes.
Stop manufacturing new clothes.
Stop buying so much stuff.
Heck, even stop printing books.
Sorry, fellow authors. The trees would like a word.
Of course, even doing nothing has an impact. Simply being alive requires resources.
And there's a reason I'm not suggesting we all move into caves, abandon civilization, and begin communicating exclusively through interpretive dance.
Although, admittedly, that last part sounds kind of fun.
The point is that none of us gets to claim a life without impact.
Not the sustainability expert flying across the world to deliver a keynote about carbon emissions.
Not the conscious consumer ordering their fifth pair of ethically made sneakers.
Not the founder of a regenerative clothing company who still manufactures clothing, travels, ships products, and participates in the very systems he's trying to transform.
And certainly not me.
We all participate.
We all consume.
We all make choices that carry consequences.
Some choices carry far greater consequences than others, and acknowledging our shared participation doesn't mean pretending all impacts are equal.
But before any of us climbs onto the grandstand, adjusts our sustainably sourced halo, and declares ourselves holier than thou, perhaps we get to examine the platform we're standing on.
What was it made from?
Who made it?
And how did it get here?
I'm not particularly interested in playing the game of who's part of the problem.
That conversation too easily becomes an exercise in blame, shame, and competitive virtue.
I'm interested in what becomes possible when we acknowledge that we're all part of the reality.
Because owning our participation is not the same as surrendering to it.
It's the beginning of conscious participation.
Self-awareness.
Shared awareness.
And the willingness to live within the complexity rather than pretend we've somehow transcended it.
We don't get to regenerate the world by declaring ourselves separate from the systems that need regenerating.
We get to participate in transforming them.
From within.
Imperfectly.
Consciously.
Together.
The goal isn't to become the most sustainable person in the room.
It's to leave the room, and the world beyond it, better because we were here.
And perhaps the most regenerative thing we can bring to the conversation is a little humility.
Which brings me to the wonderfully ridiculous world of awards, applause, and self-importance.
AND THE AWARD GOES TO…OUR EGOS?
Cue Jim Carrey.
▶ [WATCH: JIM CARREY ON AWARDS, EGO & SELF-IMPORTANCE
One of the things I've always loved about Jim Carrey is his ability to expose the magnificent absurdity of our self-importance.
The awards.
The accolades.
The titles.
The extraordinary amount of energy we spend convincing ourselves that our little identities are terribly important.
And look, I get it.
It's lovely to receive recognition.
It's wonderful to be celebrated.
I'm grateful.
Truly.
But there's an old piece of wisdom worth remembering:
Don't believe your own press clippings.
Because tomorrow morning, I could wake up, look in the mirror, straighten my imaginary bow tie, and announce:
"Ladies and gentlemen…
JEFF SCULT.
Founder.
Designer.
Chief Steward.
One of the WORLD'S TOP 100 SUSTAINABILITY AWARD WINNERS."
Pause for thunderous applause.
And next year, if we're lucky?
"Ladies and gentlemen…
JEFF SCULT.
TWO-TIME TOP 100 SUSTAINABILITY AWARD WINNER."
Standing ovation.
By 2028, perhaps I'll need someone to carry my reusable shopping bags.
And someone else to carry my ego.
And there it is.
The beautiful absurdity of it all.
We get so caught up in the stories we tell about ourselves that we forget we're the ones telling them.
An award is lovely.
Recognition is meaningful.
But an identity built around being recognized?
Now we're just composting our own bullshit.
And I say that with enormous affection for the compost.
At least compost has the decency to turn into something useful.
So yes, we won an award.
And I'm grateful.
But the trees don't care about our trophies.
The rivers aren't reading our press releases.
And the Earth isn't sitting around waiting for us to update our LinkedIn profiles.
Nature doesn't need our self-importance.
Nature needs our participation.
So let's celebrate the people doing the work.
Let's honor the pioneers who came before us.
Let's acknowledge our contradictions.
Let's call out our own bullshit before pointing at anyone else's.
And let's remember that none of us has graduated from the school of being human.
We're all still students.
Some of us just happen to have won an award for doing our homework.
And while the world continues to offer us a steady diet of doomsday headlines, climate despair, and sky-is-falling narratives, I'd rather put my energy somewhere else.
Not in denial of what's happening.
Not in avoidance of the urgency.
But in devotion to what's possible.
Because fear may get our attention.
Love gets us moving.
And I don't know about you, but I'm far more interested in participating with people who see the possibility of a more beautiful world than competing over who's most qualified to tell us how doomed we are.
So here's to celebrating the progress without confusing it for the destination.
Here's to giving back more than we take.
Here's to remaining humble enough to laugh at ourselves.
And here's to the wonderfully imperfect, magnificently human work of growing something better.
WE WON AN AWARD.
WE'RE STILL FALLING SHORT.
AND I LOVE WHERE THIS IS GROWING.
Goldenly,
Jeff
Chief Steward of OGT
