Not long ago, Ian Yolles addressed a group of fashion and design students in Los Angeles. Just to get them going, the vice president of brand communications for Nau, an outdoor clothing line, opened his talk with the question: “If I say ‘green apparel,’ what comes to mind?” The responses — “Boring.” “Scratchy.” “Bland.” “Colorless.” — didn’t surprise him. Yolles would argue that they don’t have to be any of these things, but true or not, there should probably be one more phrase on the list: “more expensive.” Though environmentally friendly clothing has improved by leaps and bounds in terms of durability, wearability and

fashion appeal, those who want to do their part to help the environment by purchasing a fleece jacket  made of recycled pop bottles, for example, are likely to find themselves still looking at higher price points than for the category as a whole. Not to mention feeling some confusion along the way.

The average consumer has doubtless wondered whether cotton should necessarily be organic; whether it really makes a difference to purchase from a company that follows sustainable practices in addition to offering green products; or whether the whole “eco-friendly” concept is just a marketing ploy. And in a sluggish economy, some may also ask whether “green” clothes are more luxury items than necessities.

“I think that there’s a desire on almost everyone’s part to do at least one thing” that is environmentally friendly, says Diane MacEachern, author of “Big Green Purse: Using Your Spending Power to Create a Cleaner, Greener World.”

“It’s: ‘All right, I’ve got it: I’ve got to do something, I’m willing to do something. But what in the world should I do?’

“There is a lot of bandying about of words that are very enticing to consumers, things like natural, green, earth-friendly, biodegradable, compostable,” MacEachern says, “but they don’t really mean anything. They may mean something to the manufacturer who may have a way of justifying the use of the word, but that doesn’t mean a product is true to the claim. Consumers don’t know who or what to believe.”

From its inception, outdoor clothing and gear company Patagonia has been considered “green.” That reputation was established mainly by the fact that it donated funds to environmentally friendly causes.

But these days, the company does a lot more than spread the wealth. In addition to offering items made from organic cotton and wool, chlorine-free wool, hemp and recycled/recyclable polyester, the company now offers an interactive mini-website called The Footprint Chronicles that allows consumers to track the environmental impact of various Patagonia products from design to delivery.

It also offers a blog on green issues; has a LEED-certified service center; is helping build a national park in Chile; offers garment recycling; and has created a solar energy plant for its California headquarters. And the company has given more than $31 million in donations and grants to environmental causes.

And yet Jill Dumain, the company’s director of environmental analysis, still wants customers to choose Patagonia products primarily for their quality, style and durability.

In recent years, concern for the environment has risen from the low teens to No. 5 or 6 among the reasons consumers shop Patagonia, Dumain says. “We’ve definitely seen it slide up, but I don’t want it to be first,” she says. “I like where it is now. … The environmental work is just the gravy.”

Dumain acknowledges that some items in the company’s catalog can be pricier than goods from other brands. A short-sleeve woman’s T-shirt made of organic cotton and recycled polyester, for example, might go for $40, and a man’s casual jacket may range in price from $75 for a fleece hoodie to $400 for a waterproof/breathable stretch nylon fishing coat. “But when you factor in durability, this is very cost-effective,” she says.

And therein lies an interesting challenge for retailers that carry eco-friendly products. If they are truly committed to reusing and recycling, reducing their environmental footprint and creating products that are meant to last longer, then, in essence, they must also, on some level, encourage consumers to buy less.

“What I am constantly encouraging audiences to do is to listen to their own voices rather than to the voices of manufacturers,” MacEachern says. “If you look at apparel, we used to buy for four seasons: winter, spring, summer and fall. But now there’s spring preview, and early spring, and late spring, which comes just before early summer. That doesn’t make any sense.

“Fashion-forward is very destructive from an environmental point of view,” she says. “That’s not only from the manufacturer’s end, where so much excess is being produced, but I think it’s also very disruptive to the shopper. There’s no peace of mind anymore. There’s this idea that no matter what you’re going to buy, it’s soon going to be out of style. And that contributes to the frenzy of trying to stay on top of something you’re never going to be on top of.”

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