Natural fibers, microplastics, and what happens next
A few years ago, I entered wool from several of my sheep into a fleece show for the first time. I was nervous and proud and hovering over the display tables like an overprotective parent.
One of the fleeces belonged to Pearl, my only merino ewe lamb. Pearl was bright and mischievous — with a particular talent for finding every muddy puddle in the pasture.
I had skirted her fleece carefully. Removed the rough edges. Picked out the vegetative matter (VM, in fiber-speak). But Pearl’s wool was still… muddy.
As I admired everyone else’s fleeces — wool people love all the wool — I overheard two women studying Pearl’s entry. I offered a little context, and we began chatting.
Then one of them asked, kindly and genuinely, why I hadn’t washed the mud off the sheep before she was shorn.
That question stopped me.
Not because it was unreasonable — but because it revealed how far removed most of us are from understanding what wool actually is.
What Makes Wool Different?
If you’ve ever handled raw (unwashed) wool, you know it feels a little greasy.
That “grease” is lanolin — a natural wax produced by sheep. Lanolin keeps the wool healthy, helps prevent tangling and felting on the animal, and sheds water. Sheep don’t mind standing in the rain because they’re already wearing their own raincoat.
When wool is processed into yarn, most of the lanolin is washed out (it’s hard on milling equipment).
But the structure of the fiber remains: bundled strands of keratin that trap air, regulate temperature, and move moisture away from the body.
That structure is why wool:
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- Insulates in cold weather
- Breathes in warm weather
- Wicks moisture without feeling clammy
- Resists odor naturally
If you’ve ever put on a synthetic sweater expecting warmth and ended up sweaty and chilled instead, you’ve experienced the difference between petroleum-based textiles and protein fibers.
Wool works the way it does because of how it’s built.
Wool, Microplastics, and the Question I Keep Asking
But the reason I still believe in wool goes beyond performance. It comes back to a question I’ve been carrying for years:
What happens next?
When a wool sweater wears thin at the elbows…
When a blanket reaches the end of its useful life…
When scraps fall to the studio floor…
Wool doesn’t become smaller pieces of plastic.
It’s biodegradable. Microorganisms break down the protein fibers. Nutrients return to the soil.
Synthetic textiles — polyester, nylon, acrylic — follow a different path. As they age and wash, they shed microfibers. Over time, those fibers fragment into microplastics. They don’t return to soil. They persist.
So what would it look like to choose materials that move within a natural cycle instead of interrupting one?
Choosing Natural Fibers (Without Perfection)
This doesn’t mean throwing out your closet and starting over. It doesn’t mean chasing perfection.
It means building a habit of noticing.
When it’s time to replace a sweater, pillow, rug, or carpet, check the fiber content the way you might check a food label. If it doesn’t say what it’s made from, it’s likely petroleum-based.
Look for textiles made from natural fibers — materials that come from plants or animals:
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- Wool (including merino and breed-specific wool) — sheep
- Cashmere, mohair, pygora — goats
- Alpaca, llama, camel — camelids
- Yak, qiviut — yak and musk ox
- Angora — rabbit
- Linen, cotton, hemp — plant fibers
- Bamboo or Tencel — plant-derived cellulose
Many textiles are blends. If a fiber is blended with synthetics, the synthetic portion will not biodegrade. Even choosing higher percentages of natural fiber is a meaningful shift.
None of these materials is perfect. Each involves trade-offs in production and processing. But they share something critically important: when their useful life ends, they return back to the beginning of the cycle.
Why I Still Believe in Wool
That muddy fleece didn’t win a ribbon.
But it reminded me that wool isn’t meant to be pristine. It’s meant to be alive. It grows on an animal. It protects her from rain and extreme temperatures (cold and hot).
And when its job is finished — on the sheep or in your closet — it doesn’t linger as a contaminant. It becomes part of something else.
In a world where so many materials fragment and accumulate, I believe in fibers that contribute positively to the next generation – human and textile.
I’m still following that question: What happens next?