So, time on the Earth’s three-month respite from human nastiness is now up. Pollution levels are rising to pre-lockdown levels as people get stuck back in where they left off. And, in this country at least, we are being encouraged to “save” the economy by rushing off to buy sweat-shop threads at a couple of quid a pop.

Will our kids return to full-time education before their new Primark tracksuits reach landfill? Who knows, but the race is on.

Please forgive me if I sound as if I’m sneering; I’m not. This is not an issue of snobbery, rather, yet again, an issue of unacceptable choices.

That “stuff” costs money, is an unavoidable fact (unless you have managed to successfully tap into a barter system). If we are buying products that cost a fraction of what they should cost to produce, someone or something is paying the price. In most instances, both a someone and a something: the shamefully underpaid human toiling away behind a sewing machine in Bangladesh, and the planet.

Many of us are already aware of the implications of bargain basement fashion. We understand that the clothes are just too cheap, even taking into account the questionable quality: man-made fabrics whose fibres and dyes gush into our waterways with every wash, glued-on adornments that shed like Christmas tree needles, clothes worn for a season then tossed because they are no longer fit for purpose. So false economy, on top of everything else.

But can we avoid it?

Part of the problem is that we have become too accustomed to the convenience (that word again) of a throwaway existence. For many, it is no longer enough to have a small selection of higher quality garments that last – appearance is a priority, and few can resist the temptation to humour the vagaries of fashion in an affordable way.

And there are others, like me, who glide effortlessly from plump to fat and (occasionally and far less effortlessly) back, and whose particular brand of ever-changing bulge seems to defy the shape of normal clothes, giving a “whatever you can find that fits, you buy” edge to their fashion endeavours.

In order to start somewhere, I went on a hunt for an ethical-ish school uniform for my daughter. Since she began school, I really have tried (and occasionally failed) to avoid George at Asda, among other suspiciously cheap outfitters of children. Suspicions that were confirmed by this blog post, stumbled-across in the course of my investigations, and containing a scorecard of ethical fashion placing Asda, Tesco and Sainsbury’s even lower than the usual high street purveyors of cheap tat.

Sadly, the most ethical high street brand (H&M Clothing O) only scored 9. Out of a possible 20.

Given that the highest scorers on the list do not sell school uniforms, I plumped for M&S (awarded a pitiful 5), and made a mental note to try harder next time, as well as bookmarking the website of the Ethical Consumer for a more in-depth browse.

And then a few days later, I stumbled across the Ethical Superstore – a website selling a vast array of ethically-produced products, including school uniforms. Expensive school uniforms, when taking into consideration that a) many children appear to thrive on the challenge of ruining clothes faster than they can be grown out of, which brings us neatly to b) even if the clothes survive, children grow and grow and then, when you least expect it (sometimes overnight), they grow some more.

However, while I couldn’t buy the entire uniform from them – it involves a particular shade of mint green that can be elusive even at mainstream suppliers – I am seriously considering taking a deep breath and committing to the ES for the rest, next time round. We are a one-child family (by choice) so with a smidgen of belt-tightening elsewhere, we could probably afford the sacrifice of pricier school togs. I am aware that we are fortunate to be able to make that change.

It goes without saying that those of us who can afford to, MUST do our best to incorporate a very real awareness of the evils of cheap goods into our consumer habits. The internet is full of resources to guide the way, although committing to this endeavour requires an acceptance that buying ethically may mean buying less. It may also mean less choice and less convenience. But is that really such a bad thing?

What of those families who may not feel they are in a position to opt for H&M O over Asda, let alone buy from the truly ethical brands? The answer is that I don’t know, however I suspect that the existence of cheap everything has created, and then fed, an artificial market. We have been taught that we CAN have lots more “stuff” than we had before – lots more than we actually need. And because it all costs so little, we are far more nonchalant about disposing of it.

But if those who can afford to steer clear of the worst brands, made a conscious effort to do so? And if at the same time we lobby the brands at the top to do even better, might these not be good first steps?

How about writing to our MPs to request laws for companies wishing to sell “stuff” in this country, putting the onus on those companies to ensure workers making their merchandise do so in safe working conditions and while being paid a living wage?

And laws to ensure the environmental sustainability of the raw materials used?

We could make the secondhand market a more mainstream option: far better to take your clothes to be resold to people who may be on a tighter budget, than to leave them piled up against supermarket charity bins, from where they will be heaved directly to the tip.

Given that school uniform here is obligatory, should it not also be obligatory that it is ethically-sourced? The government could supplement the purchase for those families who would not be able to shoulder the burden otherwise. What a wonderful teachable act – raising awareness in our children while also showing that, as a country, we prepared to do something about it.

There are laws governing the quality of our food (although in the UK they are soon to be trampled by post-Brexit desperation) why would there not be laws governing the quality of the rest of our “stuff”? Yes, it will increase the cost of many non-essential items that we have become used to picking up for a pittance, but we all know deep down that this cheap, disposable culture is simply not sustainable.

Free-market capitalism would certainly not agree – it washes its hands of all responsibility by leaving the choice of whether to be ethical up to the consumer. But the simple act of allowing the “wrong” choices not only to pervade the market, but also to provide a more economical option than their environmentally sustainable alternatives, is surely proof of an immensely flawed system.

There is certainly nothing “free” about it: impoverished third-world workers and the planet we live on are paying the ultimate price for our greed.

It is time to make a change.