we’ve all done it: dropped a bag of torn tees and threadbare shorts in the neighborhood recycling bin—or left it beside, as the container is typically overflowing—and walked away with a quiet satisfaction. Maybe even hit the shops afterward to restock your now depleted wardrobe. Our honest presumption is that these cast-offs will now go to help someone less fortunate—either sold by a charity shop, gifted to a homeless person, or sent overseas to clothe a refugee family.Sadly, this is often just fantasy. Much of today’s used clothing—donated with good intentions—will likely end up in a landfill halfway across the globe, quite possibly off the West African nation of Ghana. In 2021, Ghana imported $214 million of used clothing, the most in the world, and it remains among the top destinations for discarded fast fashion today. In Accra, Ghana’s sprawling capital, Kantamanto spans 42 acres and is purported to be the world’s largest secondhand textile market. Each week, it receives 15 million pieces of used clothing, amounting to some 225,000 tons a year. If you can think of it, you can find it within Kantamanto’s labyrinthine alleyways, which are piled high with used sneakers, bras, blouses, ties, belts, leather jackets, shoes, bags, and suit trousers. Clothes are predominantly sourced from Western charities, which sell donations in bulk to third parties.These are then shipped to Ghana from the U.K., U.S., and Europe—hence the local nickname of obroni wawu, or “dead white man’s clothes.”Globally, consumers buy over 80 billion new apparel items annually—a four-fold increase from just two decades ago. It's estimated that some 57% of used clothing goes to landfills while a quarter is incinerated. On average, Americans each purchase 53 new items of clothing every year, though collectively toss out 17 million tons of clothing and textiles annually, some 65% of which is discarded within 12 months. However, this glut is increasingly supplemented by growing consignments from affluent East Asia. Every Thursday, new bales arrive on container ships into Accra port and are then distributed around Kantamanto’s 15,000 stalls, typically by female migrant workers hailing from Ghana’s impoverished north, who ferry these 120-pound bundles balanced on their heads in exchange for a wage less than $2 a day. Each bale comes with an origin country and rough description about the contents—jeans, leather jackets, sneakers—alongside an A-to-C quality grading, which in turn reflects the price charged.Mahama says he’s building a recycling plant near Korle Lagoon to safely process the mountains of valuable e-waste that also makes its way to the nation of 35 million. But when it comes to discarded fast fashion, locals are stepping up. Few people know Kantamanto better than Yayra Agbofah, as evidenced by the endless stream of cheery hollers and fist-bumps the 37-year-old receives as he weaves through its narrow lanes. The founder of The Revival NGO worked in Kantamanto as a young man to put himself through school. Back then it was still possible to find a few gems amongst the donated bales—end of line items by Alexander McQueen or Vivienne Westwood—that the budding fashionista could rescue, repair, and upsell for a small profit. But those days are long gone.