When I first started learning about emissions, I assumed that if a brand said it was reducing its carbon footprint, that meant they were tackling the biggest, most urgent parts of it.

But then I found out about Scope 3…

There are three categories — or “scopes” — of emissions. Scope 1 is what a company directly emits (like fuel used in delivery vehicles or heating in stores). Scope 2 is what’s tied to purchased energy, like electricity. Both of these are fairly straightforward to measure — and they’re within the company’s control.

Then there’s Scope 3. The rest of it. The emissions tied to making, shipping, wearing, and eventually discarding a product — from raw materials to landfill. For most fashion brands, Scope 3 is the entire lifecycle of a product. And it usually accounts for upwards of 90% of total emissions.

But here’s the thing: most emissions reports focus almost entirely on Scope 1 and 2.

Why? Because those are the easy wins.

Switch your stores to renewable electricity. Get your head office on a green energy plan. Swap out company vehicles. Maybe even install some solar. Scope 1 and 2 reductions look great in headlines — and they’re real, measurable improvements. But they often have little to do with the core environmental impact of the business.

In H&M’s 2024 sustainability report, they proudly highlight a 92% reduction in Scope 1 and 2 emissions since 2019. It’s mostly the result of moving to 100% renewable electricity in their own operations. That’s a meaningful step, no question.

But what’s easy to miss is that those emissions — the ones they’ve reduced by 92% — only make up 0.4% of H&M’s total carbon footprint.

The rest? The remaining 99.6% sits in Scope 3: the raw materials, the garment factories, the global shipping, the packaging, the customer care and disposal. That part doesn’t get the same treatment. It’s acknowledged, yes, but often with asterisks, proxies, and vague language like “encouraging suppliers” or “exploring alternatives.”

And H&M’s not alone. Most brands follow this pattern — emphasizing the parts they can directly control, and staying quiet or broad when it comes to Scope 3.

To be fair, Scope 3 is harder. You often don’t have direct access to the data. You’re working across continents, with complex supply chains and manufacturing partners who might not be tracking their own emissions in detail. So companies lean on industry averages, lifecycle assumptions, or data models that can be years out of date. It’s not always bad faith — sometimes, it’s just the only data they have.

But even when it’s well-intentioned, it still creates a gap between what’s being reported and what really matters.

Because if the bulk of your emissions are in Scope 3, but the bulk of your reporting is about Scope 1 and 2, then we’re not actually talking about impact. We’re talking about optics.

And that’s the bigger point here. Scope 1 and 2 reporting has become a kind of reputational shield — a way to show visible progress without grappling with the deeper structures that make fashion unsustainable in the first place.

It's not that brands shouldn't be reducing operational emissions. They should. But if that's where the conversation ends, we’re missing the whole point.

Once you understand Scope 3, it becomes really clear how much of the fashion industry’s environmental impact happens outside of its owned spaces — and how rarely that part gets accounted for in a meaningful way.

Why Brands Love Scope 1 + 2, But Avoid Scope 3

What Scope 3 Actually Looks Like in Fashion: A Breakdown by Category

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