My carbon footprint: surely freezing jeans can’t be a thing?

It has come to my attention that the one about putting your jeans in the freezer is doing the rounds again.

Not because of some sleep-deprived or stress-induced confusion over which white cube is the washing machine, but because owners of said denim believe plunging their high rises into the icy depths will kill off the bacteria we all shed onto our clothes and thus remove the need for washing. Or at least freshen them up a bit. Or something.

Now, any opportunity to reduce water consumption should of course be immediately seized upon, especially given the hideous environmental impact of producing the 70 million pairs of jeans sold every year in the UK alone.

Let’s just pause on that stat for a moment: 70 million. Tell me again what the UK population is? And how many of us already have more pairs of jeans than there are days of the week?

Cotton production, accounting for 50 per cent of the garments produced every year, and coming with a dizzying demand for irrigation, pesticides and the destruction of habitat for agriculture, is the environmentalist’s nemesis.

The production of a single pair of jeans requires 7,500l of water according to the UN. And after use, the release of synthetic indigo dye, containing cyanide and formaldehyde among other delightful ingredients (yes, we’re putting this next to our skin people) into streams and rivers, has catastrophic effects on both the local environment and drinking water supply.

The ‘finishing’ bit of the process too, with its demand for even more chemicals to soften or add texture, and things like mined pumice stone for that stonewashed effect has a devastating impact.

There are some very clever techniques being championed that dramatically reduce the impact of our jean obsession, using lasers and air in ways that are truly lost on me. But this is just not the way most of our clothes are made, at least not yet.

So it makes sense that if we wear denim, or any mainstream cotton clothing – and who doesn’t – that the least we can do is make it last as long as possible before finally, eventually, years from now, plumping for a more sustainable choice.

But the washing machine and (sharp intake of breath) the tumble dryer will destroy our beloved garments faster than a three year old with kitchen scissors and a permanent marker.

Which is where the freezer comes in. I mean, you could tuck them in there next to the peas, sure. But I remember The X-Files episode where they brought that skin-burrowing monster worm back to life from the permafrost. Kept me up for weeks.

Thanks to Mulder and Scully, I’m not convinced about the domestic freezer being the answer to our odour-causing bacteria woes. They have evolved over millions of years including several kick-ass ice ages; I just don’t believe an old Beko would worry them too much.

But I’m taken with this idea of pushing the non-wash boundaries.

A trip to Ceredigion in the summer led my campsite encrusted family to wander into the painfully cool factory of Hiut Denim.

Not being a particular follower of fashion (or the royal family), I had failed to grasp – until the enthusiastic 20-something talking me through the green credentials of my husband’s new shorts made it clear – that Hiut represented something of an eco brand.

And it wasn’t until I was pointing the feral kids towards the door that he launched into the rules for washing. Or not, as it turns out. Hiut’s No Wash Club challenges owners not to wash their jeans for at least six months; a full year for the die-hards.

And no, you can’t put them in a cold bath or vinegar or whatever else is a thing people do to jeans.

Instead, we should spot wash them. And airing – there’s a lot of chat about airing in front of an open window.

I’ll hold my hands up to admit I did try the freezer method this week though, purely for research purposes you understand.

After another weekend’s camping, it was a big ask. But although my one and only pair of jeans – my only pair of trousers come to think of it – are second hand and getting on a bit, they are still your common or garden variety.

They’re not organic or produced using the magic of air, I’m now ashamed to admit, nor were they made with natural dyes. So I certainly owe it to the world to slow down their destruction.

Maybe I didn’t freeze them for long enough. Advocates suggest a week, which my somewhat haphazard capsule wardrobe doesn’t really support so I opted for the 8 hours I had between school runs instead.

I also forgot to put them in a sealed bag. So in they went among the carefully portioned spag bol.

Inevitably the in-depth article I was writing about forex hedging became far too involved and the school run became a very chilly, ragu-infused one.

None of which means I’m giving up on machine-free maintenance just yet, though.