I’d like to say I’m not someone who easily takes offence. That jibes bounce right off me. ‘I am rubber, you are glue,’ as Guybrush Threepwood used to say before he became more skilled in the art of duelling.

But maybe that’s not the case after all. Perhaps things stick with me. Certainly, recent comments about my clothing appear to have cut me to the core.

I have been described as ‘garish’ by a certain podcast co-presenter. As bearing more than a passing resemblance to a packet of Opal Fruits by another colleague – who may have inadvertently aged themselves in the process.

I admit I am brightly attired in the summer months. If you can’t wear bright, bold colours when the sun is out, when can you? No need to save it for Christmas jumpers, shine in July!

But these remarks as to my potential use as an emergency beacon – thanks to another colleague and former podcast guest for that one – pale into comparison with awful accusations made about my character.

We recently spoke to Dr Madiha Ahmad, a very patient person if ever there was one, who has to put up with more of Jan’s shenanigans (and mine) than most people ever should.

For, besides keeping Pentland Centre events running, and taking charge of the Centre’s social media feeds, Madiha is also a skilled and knowledgeable researcher when it comes to waste in the textiles industry.

We were discussing this very topic – I can’t remember if it was before or after the esteemed Professor Bebbington made the aforementioned ‘garish’ remark, but that is besides the point – it was broadly asserted that ‘we don’t pay any attention’ to where our clothes are made, and from what.

I was flabbergasted, You see, I almost never buy any item of clothing without knowing at least something of its provenance. I’m like a Primark Philip Mould, though without the glass-cutting accent and having never shopped in Primark.

The latter has at least something to do with the fact that I like to know what materials I will be putting next to my skin, where the clothing has been manufactured, and that I can trust its quality. I am not rushing onto the latest online fashion hotspot and buying something that will be worn once, fall apart two seconds later, and end up in landfill by the end of the month.

I generally want cotton for most things; I try to avoid products made in certain countries where quality of work and of working conditions cannot always be guaranteed; and then we come to my immense football shirt collection.

I spoke about this weight on my wardrobe when we discussed the sustainability of football with Dr Idlan Zakaria. When it comes to football shirts, I am no one-club man. I do not subscribe to the frankly ridiculous notion that you cannot wear a top from a team – or a nation – to which you have not committed your life. As such, alongside Barrow and England (only one of the latter, the designs are generally appalling), I have jerseys from Colorado Rapids, FC Koln, Malaga, Odense, Panathinaikos, AC Milan and many more. My international wardrobe – garish or not – takes in the countries of South Korea, Turkey, Belgium, and the Netherlands, among others.

I do not discriminate on the basis of team of origin, but I do want to know what they are made of, and by whom. More football shirts nowadays are manufactured using recycled materials. Several claim to be made up of what used to be plastic water bottles – much to the confusion of my young son when he saw the label of one of them and could not fathom how a water bottle was now wrapped around my torso.

Manufacturers say fewer new materials are used up in bringing you my latest sartorial masterpiece, and I check on this before ever handing over my money. Nike talk of chemical recycling bringing you polyester threads that are as good as new (I admit, the whole I like cotton thing has to take a backseat with football shirts, which haven’t seen such a fabric for decades after players would end matches weighed down by litres of sweat and rainwater). Puma have said 75% of materials in their jerseys are from textile waste – I own a few of theirs, and I dare anyone to tell me they can tell the difference between fabric waste and virgin threads in these instances. Almost a decade ago, Adidas boasted of a Manchester United shirt made from ‘ocean plastics’. Forest Green Rovers once had a kit made in part from ‘coffee waste’.

With so many claims, and so many people seeming to take the next step, how do you keep up? This is the problem, because claims of sustainability are not always straightforward.

Nike used those plastic bottles from 2010 onwards, and that seemed great to me. But this year they recognised using textile waste might be more sustainable, working towards a more circular economy. I may keep the majority of my jerseys for years (decades usually), but not everyone does, and with new ones out every five minutes, there are bigger piles of waste building up.

While I may have been pleased to be wearing shirts made from plastic bottles, maybe I should have been asking whether that was the right use for them, and whether companies should have been building a closed-loop so that they are not using new materials or materials from outside the textile industry at all in the manufacturing.

So, garish or not, there is always more to consider when it comes to what clothes you are wearing and how sustainable they are. Just remember that if you are going to call out someone’s bright attire, they’re called Starbursts now.

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