We don’t like to be reminded—but plastic was never meant to disappear. That was the point.
In 1957, DuPont advertised plastic as “the material of tomorrow.” One slogan even promised: "Better things for better living… through chemistry". The irony? Many of those “better things” are still with us. A sandwich bag that was dropped in the 1960s is almost certainly intact today—buried in a landfill, drifting at sea, or tucked inside a drawer with other synthetic relics.
Plastic is more than waste. It’s an archive. Of postwar optimism. Of the golden age of mass production. It wasn’t just a material; it was a mindset. It reshaped how we lived, stored, gifted, and consumed. In 1950, the world produced 2 million tonnes of it. Today, that figure exceeds 430 million tonnes annually. From cling film to furniture, from polyester jackets to party favors, plastic doesn’t fade—it remembers. It captures how we built convenience into permanence.
Designers like Charles and Ray Eames used molded polymers to democratize furniture through their Vitra chair. IKEA scaled that dream—introducing plastic into everyday objects, turning design into repeatable parts. Fast fashion wore it—spinning plastic into fabric, releasing new styles every week. Plastic let us chase a future that felt immediate, affordable, and unburdened by weight.
Even today’s bioplastics carry the same blueprint. Labeled bio-based, natural, or compostable, they speak in softer tones—but they, too, are built to preserve. Many require industrial composting to fully break down. They’re not simply alternatives; they’re echoes of our desire/habit to contain, protect, prolong.
Plastic isn’t the villain of this story. It’s the ghost in the room—quiet, persistent, familiar. A material that got to know us too well—until we began to build around it. It shaped not just objects, but instincts. And in its lighter, greener, so-called sustainable afterlife, we can still see the shape of the world we tried to make.
This means we’re still writing the story. Around the world, artists, designers, researchers, and communities are finding ways to rework this inheritance. Not all are perfect, and none erase the past—but together, they mark a shift: not away from plastic’s legacy, but into a more conscious conversation with it.
Estelle
PS. This edition only scratches the surface. Plastic touches everything—from production systems to climate impact, from design to social inequality. There's far more to uncover. But if you’re here—whether subscribed or just passing through—know that more is on the way.
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