Globally, the European Commission reports, a truckload of textiles heads to landfills or is incinerated every single second.

The fashion industry accounts for some 10 percent of greenhouse gas emissions worldwide.

Less than 1 percent of the materials used to make clothing is recycled, according to a report by the Ellen MacArthur Foundation.

The best way to keep clothes out of a landfill? Don’t make them.

Picture this: Not long ago, it wasn’t unusual for a customer to walk into an H&M store and not be able to find a basic white t-shirt in their size. Why? Like most long-established retail operations, H&M was operating with a push model—placing seasonal bets on what the demand for a given item of clothing might be, locking orders far in advance, and hoping that they were able to sell out. Make a mistake in that kind of model, though, and you can end up with customers unable to find the basics they rely on, or excess inventory you can’t sell. That’s a problem for the business, but for the environment as well—and one that doesn’t fit H&M’s aggressive sustainability goals.

Though H&M had tried to tackle the problem before, the launch of the H&M Group Design Studio, co-created with IDEO, gave the retailer the confidence to go after it again. The team started out by mapping out the complex network of people that make up its supply chain across the globe, meeting with everyone from designers to garment suppliers, logistics managers, and even folks selling the final product in H&M stores. 

They then created an algorithm for more precise ordering, as well as a tool that provides a shared view of information. Instead of placing orders, the new automated flow—dubbed “Cruise Control"—allows staff to work with a demand forecast that gives them more time to focus on customer-centric operations, like providing guidance and inspiration. It also makes it easier for H&M to follow the demands of the market, and place much more accurate bets on what consumers will want, when. Already, H&M has significantly increased sales while cutting excess inventory—a result that improves its bottom line, as well as its environmental impact.

Estimates project that by 2030, global apparel consumption will hit 102 million tons.

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22%

reduction in stock during a pilot program

34%

increase in sales during a pilot program

To foster creative projects that spoke to the needs of local communities and environments, the BSA began to engage its members in collaborative, user-led design. The organization launched its first-ever innovation challenge, putting out a call for all members to pitch their ideas for projects in the built environment.

The BSA expected those pitches to have dollar signs attached. To the organizer’s surprise, only one asked for funding. The rest requested less tangible, but equally meaningful support: advice, connections, specific expertise. Those are resources that the BSA has aplenty, but hadn’t learned how to leverage well.

From that first go at an innovation challenge, the BSA learned how to better support its members. It also learned that to lead with purpose and make strategic choices, one must develop the confidence to say no. Instead of spreading itself thin across many projects, the organization decided to take small steps, focusing on one initiative at a time, so that it can deliver focused impact and stay true to its evolving mission.

With 36% of global energy going to buildings and 8% of global emissions caused by cement alone, the architectural community is inextricably intertwined with both the causes and solutions related to climate change.

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According to a survey conducted by the AIA, the architecture profession in the US is less diverse than the population as a whole. This lack of diversity can contribute to a disconnect between architects and the communities they serve.

31

submissions received from innovators in the Boston region working on equity and sustainability challenges

5

innovation teams invited to pitch ideas

The resources that NYU students needed were organized by administrative department, and buried on disparate websites and calendars. But students don’t think in terms of departments—they just need to know where their classes are.

All of this became patently clear as IDEO shadowed students. Team members visited classrooms, walked with them through their days, and hosted pop-ups in highly trafficked areas to get ideas from passersby. That helped the team develop a common understanding of the overall student journey and grounded employees in the key moments that can either make or break a student’s experience. Visualizing their journey helped departments gain a shared understanding of the fractured communications challenge and develop possible solutions.

To synthesize those insights, we formed cross-functional action learning groups, challenging existing practices at the university and coming up with new ways of working. Participants came from a diverse set of departments, including enrollment management, student affairs, marketing and communications, IT, global inclusion, student services, the provost’s office, digital communications, and more. The cohorts sketched early hypotheses and got feedback from faculty, administrators, and students from all of NYU's undergraduate schools to refine initial concepts.

Collaborating with students gave staff a first-hand look at what students were struggling with and a way to engage students directly in addressing those challenges. Just as importantly, there was an overall culture shift at NYU: Administrators started with questions instead of agendas, came together around a table, and reached beyond their job descriptions to meet the needs of students.

First-year students reported receiving hundreds of paper forms, and email from more than 70 unique senders.

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NYU needed to offer students the right resources at the right time—and collaborate to serve them as a unified administration.

New services

in-production include centralized calendars, dynamic campus mapping, and customized notifications

Design-thinking cohorts

now support the student experience

Diversity alone isn’t enough—in marketing or any other facet of business. Today’s brands must authentically engage with and create the conditions for co-design with existing communities.

That sort of deep, meaningful engagement with customers doesn’t happen over Instagram. It requires a playbook, a prototype, and a healthy amount of trust. So, IDEO worked with Athleta and Gap to tap into the wisdom of a council of women who represent intersectional identities and lived experiences. The council surfaced powerful insights for the brand, like the fact that active women don’t need a brand to empower them—they already feel powerful.

After only a few weeks, Athleta experienced the difference between research and a truly reciprocal relationship. The way their brand engages with communities is adding depth, understanding, and authenticity to Athleta’s content, products, and experiences. And women can feel the difference.

76% of US adults say that the media promotes an unattainable body image for women.

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Fewer than 1 in 10 businesses review for inclusion as part of product design and marketing campaigns.

>2X

user growth in 2022

13,000+

Athleta WellPro well-being providers active on the platform

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How did it all begin, you ask?

Long-time IDEOer Alan Ratliff was using the loo in Santa Cruz a few years back and took note of the graffiti on stall walls. He was struck by how openly and honestly strangers could share their most heartfelt feelings—in a public space. Combining this insight with the pause for thought that often strikes while seated on the throne, we thought we'd try inviting the same behavior on our own walls.

And how have people at IDEO responded?

Though the wait has admittedly increased, which brings no one joy, designing the bathroom as a place to intentionally linger and gin up ideas has become a point of pride.

Curious to learn more about how we nurture a culture of creativity? We tell the whole bathroom story, and many more, in Leading for Creativity, a new course taught by Tim Brown at IDEOU.com.

There's one stop we always make on our office tour: the john. Walls blackened by chalkboard-paint, every month presents a new opportunity to pose a controversial question and weigh in with controversial answers. Indeed, our bathroom has become one of the most—forgive us—productive places on the premises.

Unless I’m at a gig or a concert, it’s rare that I listen to music in the presence of other people. There’s background music, sure, but that feels different—I’m not really listening. Here in New York, there’s always live music on subway platforms, but we don’t listen by choice (and while it’s often great, it can also grate).

Listening to music with others need not be limited to experiences of live music, though. Deliberately listening to recorded music with other people can be a magical experience. That’s especially true if you’re hearing it in a context that's a little unexpected, such as a conference room.

It’s a luxury to be in the same space as others and not need to talk—to just be present.

In our New York studio, we’ve been gathering for a series of shared listening sessions, called the Sonic Shower. It’s a really simple format:

• every month or so
• we spend 15 minutes
• first thing in the morning
• listening to 3 to 5 pieces of recorded music
• from around the world
• that are selected and ordered around a theme
• and played on speakers in a room
• while people listen over coffee
• and glance at light program notes, if they so choose

Three things we like about the Sonic Shower

1. IT SUPPORTS OUR COMMUNITY

It’s just a lovely thing to start the day with music. And it’s lovely to be in the company of colleagues without the pressures of drumming up conversation. Listening together creates a delicate, light experience of community that works for everyone, even if you don’t feel much like chatting first thing in the morning.

2. IT’S A SOURCE OF INSPIRATION

At IDEO, it’s our job to seek inspiration wherever we can find it. It fuels great design by keeping our teams engaged. We’re great at hunting down visual inspiration in art, type, and digital experiments. But it’s easy to forget to open our ears up in the same way—to expose our brains and hearts to sounds we’ve never encountered before. Music is sonic storytelling—it opens up imaginative doors that we’d be crazy not to go through. Each Sonic Shower is a mix of songs that are somewhat easy (or familiar) and somewhat challenging (or likely different to what you might normally hear).

3. IT ENGENDERS GRATITUDE

In so much of our work, we’re interrogating experiences—figuring out what underpins them and picking out aspects that we can replicate or evolve. But during a Sonic Shower we just listen to the music. We don’t feel an obligation to discuss it or derive meaning from it there and then. It’s a luxury to be in the same space as others and not need to talk—to just be present. And, while it does help our work, we don’t treat the Sonic Shower like work. That gives us permission to receive the music as a precious gift. And gratitude feels good.

Sample a Sonic Shower

Here’s what we listened to at a winter-themed session in December. You can find the music on Spotify here.

Hvild (2009) by Hugi Gudmundsson

Now based in Denmark, Gudmundsson is one of the bright lights of contemporary Icelandic composition. A few years ago, in a neat nod to IDEO, he was awarded one of the country’s most prestigious arts prizes: the Optimism Award.

Hvild means "rest." It was written for a friend’s funeral and includes text about carrying water over a mountain...

Snow (1954) by Irving Berlin; performed by Rosemary Clooney and The Mellomen

This is one of the stand-out songs from Bing Crosby’s White Christmas. The movie version features the four leads—Clooney, Crosby, Danny Kaye, and Vera-Ellen—singing the song together on a train. As you do.

Der Leiermann (1828) music by Franz Schubert; poem by Wilhelm Müller; performed by Jonas Kaufmann (tenor) and Helmut Deutsch (piano)

This is the final song of Winterreise (Winter Journey), Schubert’s monumental song cycle for voice and piano. Grab a whisky and listen to the whole thing sometime—it’s an intimate, crystalline marvel.

Der Leiermann translates as "The Hurdy-Gurdy Man." The hurdy-gurdy is an instrument where, to produce notes, you crank a handle that turns a greased wheel against its strings. Here’s the text of the song:

Behind the village stands a hurdy-gurdy man, cranking his instrument with frozen fingers. His begging bowl is always empty; no one listens to his music, and the dogs growl at him. But his playing never stops. “Strange old man. Shall I come with you? Will you play your hurdy-gurdy to accompany my songs?”

The piano does so much more than simply accompany the voice. Elsewhere in the cycle, it becomes a powerful storm, the rush of water beneath ice, a creaking weathervane, and much more. Listen for how, in this song, it conjures up the sparse drone of the hurdy-gurdy.

Winter Darkness (2014) performed by Nils Økland (Hardanger fiddle) and Georg Buljo (voice)

The Hardanger fiddle is a traditional stringed instrument from Norway. Contemporary players such as Økland have coaxed the fiddle into modern music, working with collaborators near and far.

Buljo has done much the same with joik (pronounced ‘yoyk’), one of the oldest vocal traditions in Europe. A joik is both a style and a song form, deeply rooted in the Sami culture of Sweden, Norway, and northern Finland.

All that said, this is a pretty traditional piece—but modern, close recording lets us hear every crack in Buljo’s voice and every bow across the strings.

Does it sound like "winter darkness" to you?

It’s never been easier to share music with each other: Here’s a link, there’s a playlist, and off you go. At the same time, my experience of music has become more and more private, more and more mediated by headphones.

We thought about the physical context: If looking at a screen put viewers into a mode of judgment, what environment might lead them into a state of openness and wonder? After a few false starts—and ruling out marijuana—we settled on a campfire. Everyone has experienced the magnetism of a flickering flame and its power to open you up to a good story.

Burning wood was going to be a challenge indoors. But then another part of our talk occurred to us, in which we identify iPhone addiction as a scourge that prevents people from engaging in creative daydreaming. What if we took away the audience's phones and used them to stoke up the flames rather than dowse them?

Here’s how the experience played out. We gathered everyone in a conventional classroom setting and ran them through a calendar review exercise (“Look at your last week and count the hours of creative imagination”). Then we shared some recent brain science studies that point to the power of daydreaming to cultivate creativity. Diving deep into the intricacies of neuroanatomy, we could tell we were losing people.

Just before everyone fell asleep, we herded them through a back door to another part of the building. Here, in dimmed light, we had each person load a YouTube video of a campfire and set it on top of a foam-core structure made by our designers in the Chicago office. Soon we had a raging digital bonfire of iPhones, with additional sound effects from having our audience gently crinkle Post-It notes in their hands.

No campfire would be complete without taking turns strumming a guitar and telling stories of things we’d done to rediscover our creativity, so that's exactly what we did. The previously restless audience sat on the floor, gazing at the virtual fire, curious and relaxed.

Look at your last week's calendar and count the hours of creative imagination.

We turned the floor over to the attendees. What strategies did they use in their own practice?

One colleague shared a story of hanging a lamp above his desk to serve as a beacon. When the lamp was on, it let others in the studio know he was available to talk. Another shared her technique of running away from distractions—literally, on foot—until her head was clear. A third announced he would try to change his mindset by drawing for a few minutes each morning when he got out of bed. As the session ended, we asked everyone to write down something they would try in the future to spark their own creativity. Commitments were made and notes were tossed into “flames” as attendees drifted away, dreaming of a new way to work.

In sum, here are 5 ways to design a non-boring meeting:

1. Start conventionally, then lead attendees to an unknown frontier
2. Confiscate phones
3. Commit to a gimmick so they don't complain that you've taken their phones
4. Play music
5. Ask people to share personal stories

*Only one iPhone was lost during the making of this session… but seriously, who took it?

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Our quest: to invent an un-boring meeting. My colleague Michael Hendrix (above, immersed in one experiment—a bubble-bath-based brainstorm) and I were preparing a conference session about the importance of putting yourself in a creative mindset. But the way we were delivering it—two dudes standing at the front of a room with a PowerPoint deck—was about as inspiring as the DMV. We needed the audience to experience the thing we wanted to teach.

Last November, three IDEOers and I set off to South Africa for a project focused on women's health. With so many others back in Cambridge eager to stay involved, we wanted to create a way to share our experiences from 8,000 miles away.

So we transformed our project room back at IDEO into an immersive, womb-like experiential space. Inside: a single chair and VR viewer. Every day over the course of the trip, we sent virtual reality videos that teleported our colleagues from Cambridge to our happenings in the field.

From this experiment, we got a glimpse into the impressive potential of this technology to radically change our industry. Here are five reasons to consider using VR for your next design research adventure:

1. Being invisible is super powerful

The VR camera we used was pocket-sized—hardly intrusive. Its 360-degree lens also breaks users’ mental model of a camera, no longer conveying that it's staring at them, or you, or anything, really. It puts participants at ease as it quickly fades into the background.

2. You can capture background noise

Our research environments are rich and beautifully complex. But during a typical interview, we're so focused on what the participant is saying or what question we’re going to ask next, it’s hard to take it all in, and much gets lost in translation when recounting the details later on. VR gives you a way to capture the background environment, and lets you elegantly weave it into the full narrative.

3. You gain empathy from those far away

The IDEOers back home felt like they were a part of the experience—as if they were with us, in the moment, and not just hearing the story secondhand. They said the videos felt active and immersive, allowing their senses to be fully engaged. Photos and traditional video are useful, but it’s just not the same.

4. You’ll be part of the scene (like it or not).

Filming in 360 degrees means there are no degrees to hide in! And while some may argue that this is more an obstacle than a benefit, to me, it feels more honest. It captures the reality that our research is not a one-sided investigation but rather a two-way conversation and collaborative experience.

5. You’ll want to watch it again. And again.

With VR, each viewing opportunity is unique. The viewer decides where to look and what little detail to pay attention to. It’s like getting to relive a moment in a thousand different ways, without ever getting called out for staring at anyone or anything. Even more compelling: Because the experience feels so vividly real, one is left with an almost visceral sense of nostalgia that’s powerful and addictive.

I'm excited to see how design researchers continue to experiment with VR. Will we embed insights directly into the video? Will research participants be able to "walk" into virtual environments we create? The possibilities are limitless, so strap on your seatbelt (and headset).

Thanks to my project team: Ann Kim, Lauren Kim, and Greg Wolos

Today, everyone’s buzzing about virtual reality and its potential to revolutionize the gaming, news, and film industries. But there’s one application that you rarely hear about: research.

I help organizations cut through complexity by shaping how they show up, through brand strategy, identity, and storytelling.

Working at the intersection of brand and business, I bring an editorial eye and a bias toward making—turning ideas into tangible experiences that people can understand, trust, and believe in.

My work spans government, healthcare, financial services, media, and consumer goods, from launching Gen Z-focused ventures to building innovation labs and reimagining legacy brands. I relish moments of ambiguity and enjoy translating across teams, perspectives, and priorities to move ideas forward.

I started my career in editorial and digital design, shaping cross-platform experiences and identity systems in publishing and agency environments. That foundation still shapes how I work today: I’m detail-oriented, collaborative, and overreliant on the Oxford comma. I hold a BFA in Visual Communication from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

For 25 years, I've asked the same question: Who does this design exclude—and what are we going to do about it?

My work spans human-centered strategy, inclusive design, and qualitative research, with clients ranging from Microsoft, Google, and Verizon to the National Science Foundation, and San Francisco Unified School District.

Before IDEO, I taught elementary school in East Palo Alto and spent a decade doing design work with social service organizations—where I learned firsthand what it costs people when systems are built without them in mind.

I am currently writing User Error, a nonfiction book about digital access and the design decisions behind it. I live in Oakland, California.

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My expertise spans brand, communication, and product design across tech, education, the arts, and social impact.

I believe great work demands both high-level vision and obsessive attention to detail, and only happens through collaboration.

I bring an inclusive, hands-on approach and a deep understanding of business, which enables me to consistently deliver excellence while always asking why.

Before joining IDEO, I worked at the brand firms Pentagram and VSA Partners. I began my career as a designer, leading teams at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Milwaukee Art Museum. I hold an MFA in graphic design from Maryland Institute College of Art and a BFA in communication design from the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design, and have taught at some of the best design schools in the US.

I am responsible for IDEO’s long-term success in China and working with clients to use design as a tool to enable growth. Specifically, I have helped Chinese companies design holistic brand solutions through the development of their products, communication, services, and innovation teams, and I have helped multinationals expand their presence and influence in China.

I advise global leaders on developing China-led innovation and capabilities.

In over 15 years in IDEO Shanghai, I have worked on projects that use design to elevate the quality of the experience of healthcare products and services, streamline processes that increase productivity, create spaces and programs that promote and enable inclusive communities, and build next generation mobility solutions that are planet-positive.

Before joining IDEO, I worked at Philips Electronics and the Electrolux Group in Italy, the Netherlands, and Singapore on a number of breakthrough commercial products. I am a member of the Young President Organization in Shanghai.

Most AI products today are built for work—a space with clear problems and established systems. One founder noticed a gap: personal life is messier, harder to systematize, and mostly left behind by the AI boom. So she built Cue, a personal AI that lives inside iMessage and group chats, to go where the other tools haven't.

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In this episode, Becca Carroll, IDEO's Chief Strategy Officer, talks with Sida Li, co-founder and CEO of Shared Context Lab, about staying anchored to a human need while the technology around her keeps changing shape, why she treats her business model with the same rigor she'd bring to a product, and what it feels like to build a company at this particular, disorienting moment in AI.

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The conversation also gets into how Sida makes design decisions: the language Cue uses to describe itself, the tradeoffs behind building inside iMessage instead of a new app, and a real story about a business idea that didn’t pan out.

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This is the second in a two-part series profiling founders from IDEO's Startups-in-Residence program. The first conversation is with Johannes Seemann, founder of Sooner, on designing GenAI for the emotional side of money.

Most personal financial tools are built to run the numbers and optimize towards a budget. While that works for some, most people experience money as a lived relationship that does not neatly fit into a spreadsheet. Johannes Seemann and Becca Carroll discuss why money is emotional before it is mathematical, and what a human-centered approach to building a generative AI financial product looks like in practice.

Mina Seetharaman talks with Scott Shigeoka, author of Seek and Head of Curiosity Cultivation at the Eames Institute, about what distinguishes genuinely curious leadership from performative curiosity, how power dynamics shape curiosity, and why practicing curiosity can restore energy rather than drain it.

Mina Seetharaman talks with David Epstein, author of Inside the Box and Range, about why total freedom often produces average work, how leaders can design useful limits on purpose, and what organizations such as General Magic and Pixar reveal about the relationship between boundaries and creativity.