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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1. Pass the Baton: where stories are currency

At secondhand store Pass the Baton, recycled goods are nestled in carefully curated rows. But what's really for purchase are stories—one for every item. Pick something up and turn the price tag around. You’ll find a photo of the previous owner, along with a short anecdote about the experience of owning the item. Even in just a few sentences, these stories give me an instant connection to the product on-hand, making it more valuable than if it were displayed as a new item in an on-trend collection.

My experience at Pass the Baton reminded me that the currency of stories can be more valuable than the currency of yen. Reading the stories, I was surrounded by not just the things for sale, but the people who once owned them: their relationships, their hopes, their memories. It was a powerful experience and a good reminder to look beyond face value in evaluating the worth of things.

2. Ichiran Ramen: where senses are heightened

Where do you find the best ramen in Tokyo? For me, there’s one standout in the best-designed ramen-experience category: Ichiran. Out of the thousands of noodle shops in Japan, this one has choreographed the perfect environment to fully savor the flavors, tastes, and textures of ramen.

Ichiran is not a social affair: Each booth is designed for one person, and it’s filled with everything needed to savor the experience solo, including an individual water dispenser, chopsticks, and cups. Diners are served when a pair of hands emerge with the perfect bowl of ramen. The curtain closes, and then it’s just you, the bowl, and full-on sensory pleasure.

Ichiran is about the ramen and the ramen only. And what a bowl of ramen it is.

3. Ranking Ranqueen: Where the crowd decides

Here's the concept: Assemble the most popular or top-selling products in each category—peach-flavored candy, facial wipes, gift envelopes—and put them all in one store. Ranking makes it easy to breeze by the brightly lit, clearly ranked items, pick up the most highly recommended toothpaste or most popular J-pop album, and be on your way. The easy-to-understand system helps make sense of the myriad categories of Japanese consumer goods.

I began to realize that in Japan, people don’t just want to suspect they’re making a good purchasing decision, they need to know. Ranking Ranqueen taps into this innate cultural behavior by validating the shopper's choice as one that everyone else is making, too.

4. D47: Where provenance is put on display

For first-time travelers to Japan, it's all about Tokyo and Kyoto—most don’t realize that the country is woven together with a collection of prefectures, each with its own signature tools, crafts, and food. As a restaurant, museum, and design travel store, the D47 concept puts the spotlight on lesser-known cities.

At the restaurant, patrons are asked to choose where their food comes from, instead of selecting items they’d like to eat. The museum offers rotating exhibits. One of my favorites asked each prefecture to put together the "perfect gift box"—allowing visitors to experience the best from each region.

5. Kurage ga kumoni naru hi: Where loyalty is earned

Every year, our IDEO Tokyo studio goes on an off-site to immerse ourselves in a new part of Japan and set our goals for the upcoming year. Kanazawa was one destination, and dinner at Kurage ga kumoni naru hi was our last meal.

The menu comprised of just five items, all handwritten on a sheet. Confused by the lack of choice, we ended up ordering multiples of everything and were incredibly satisfied with the beautiful food. Just before the bill came, our server presented a tray of 10 blank wooden tokens, which she proceeded to pass out to each of us, one by one, saying, “The next time you come here, bring this token, and you will unlock a new set of dishes on the menu.” It was as if we’d uncovered a secret new level in a video game. We were definitely coming back to unlock it.

Kanazawa is hours from Tokyo, but we can't wait to see what the next part of this culinary adventure holds in store.

This article first appeared in digital magazine Ignition: ignition.co

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In 2011, I moved here to help start the IDEO Tokyo studio and immediately started collecting a list of places that push us to think of the everyday in new ways. As designers, we thrive on inspiration, and this country is overflowing with it, from carefully curated hospitality to sculpted food to the incredible assortment of subcultures. As with everything in Japan, each experience compels a look beneath the surface to truly grasp its meaning and intention.

We took a trip to the factory to see how far they’d come. The building looks more Willy Wonka than gritty Chicago. It features colorful banners on the front, greenhouses on the roof, and sun-tracking solar panels in the parking lot. A wind turbine spins in the back and the property even keeps its own colony of bees. Yet, as we explored inside, I found the most compelling part of their story was how human they decided to be along the way.

These folks are seriously clean.

Method is a B Corporation, which means they are a mission-driven company that follows certain environmental and social standards. Our tour guide Shannon, an old soap industry vet, helped us understand what this means at Method. We learned that each employee receives two paid volunteer days per year to help an organization of their choice. All ingredients used are sustainably sourced and packaged, mostly in recycled containers, and the energy surplus from their wind turbine and solar cells goes back into the grid. They even chose to forego factory fences and built a sidewalk through their property so their neighbors can more easily access nearby shops.

Method takes bottle service to the next level.

One of Method’s biggest inefficiencies was bottling, as the company they work with had bottles traveling nearly 1,000 miles before being filled and packaged. They built this new factory with enough space to bring the bottling company in-house, taking 1,000 miles down to 1,000 feet. Add to that a fleet of bio-diesel semi trucks used for delivery and you have a pretty efficient system.

Soap and salad, anyone?

Method rents their 75,000 square foot rooftop to Gotham Greens, a New York-based urban agriculture company, making it one of the largest rooftop greenhouses in the world. The fully automated setup has seeds entering one end and fresh, ready-to-buy produce exiting the other. (Hot tip for Chicago veggie lovers: Check out Gotham Greens' Windy City Crunch lettuce. It’s so fresh it hits shelves in just two days, compared to the average two weeks!)

As our tour wrapped up, Shannon told us a story about the biggest criticism lobbed at Method. In the world of eco-friendly soap making, Method is frowned upon for using color dyes and fragrances in their soaps, prompting some to claim Method isn’t even a “green” soap company. However, Shannon helped us understand this decision. It turns out, it takes more energy to dye the plastic in each soap bottle than it does to dye the soap. So, given that consumers want to pick brightly colored things from shelves, dyeing the soap is a better solution.

The story illustrates the fact that being eco-friendly is never simple. Instead, it involves many decisions, involving all facets of an organization. Having seen inside the factory, we emerged believing that Method was truly committed to making the planet—and our homes—a little bit cleaner.

Photos courtesy of Method, Sophie Feng, and Magen McAfee.

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Method Soap began in a grungy San Francisco flat, where roommates Eric Ryan and Adam Lowry started mixing eco-friendly soap recipes in beer pitchers. Now, 15 years later, they've opened the industry’s first LEED Platinum certified factory in Chicago’s Historic Pullman District.

Laughter erupted. Who in their right mind names their blog after an invertebrate?

A few days later: Headlines pour in about a spunky boneless creature, affectionately named Inky, who’d popped the lid of his tank in the National Aquarium of New Zealand and escaped down a drain hole to the Pacific Ocean. The soccer-ball-sized cephalopod was instantly exalted by the Internets for his smarts, curiosity, and, it must be said, insistence on being free. One commenter crowned him the “world's greatest hero.” Inky now has 280 followers on Twitter.

Upon further investigation, it turns out that octopuses are the designers of the deep sea. They collect coconut shells as mobile homes, assemble the perfect number of rocks to narrow the opening to their dens, and use their water jets to clean their lairs, like 8-legged Marie Kondos.

Indeed, they’ve been observed doing all the things we prize here at IDEO: "Octopuses engage in play, the deliberate, repeated, outwardly useless activity through which smarter animals explore their world and refine their skills...." They’re supremely multidisciplinary, big-brained and emotional, and they may even be possessed of a soul.

A mollusc that designs its environs, can change color and shape, and sprays ink like an old-fashioned pen? What more suitable mascot for IDEO’s blog, we thought. And so we let Inky take over our masthead forevermore.

The Octopus is intended to be a drive-thru for quick hits of inspiration. Our designers will share their thoughts on craft—how that shows up in their Moleskines and Instagrams and blogs and fonts and posters. They’ll offer how-tos and hot tips and other occupational obsessions.

Last week's obsession was Inky, so we had Greg, a designer in our Tokyo office, draw him, and Derek, a developer in our Chicago office, set him afloat (watch this space—Inky will be reimagined by guest artists).

“He is such a curious boy,” Rob Yarrell, the manager of New Zealand's national aquarium told the Guardian. “He would want to know what’s happening on the outside. That’s just his personality.” We want to know what’s happening on the outside, too. And we hope you’ll follow along as we squiggle out of our tank, pour our baggy bodies into a narrow opening, and seek out a better-designed world.

Header image courtesy of National Aquarium of New Zealand

Our blog needed a name. Like millions who’ve started blogs before us, we sat around a table and tossed around ideas, most with “design” tacked on, like a fake mustache. Exasperated after many false starts, someone blurted, “Let’s just call it The Octopus.”

If you’re not careful, that is. If you have tendencies toward indulgence. If you’re running on four hours' sleep thanks to an incredibly wakeful baby who recently exited your womb and moved into your house. If you like food.

It’s not that the food is unhealthy, it’s that it’s so plentiful. A nicely stocked office fridge and pantry is one thing; day after day of roasted brussels sprouts, kale and beet quinoa, and lemon chicken thighs left over from catered meetings is another. Not to mention the green tea Kit Kats brought back from research trips to Japan, the home-baked butter biscuits whipped up by well-meaning office mates, the bottomless bins of chocolate-covered almonds and cheddar bunnies taunting you behind those cabinet doors. All right, maybe the food’s not the healthiest.

I needed a plan, a tool of some kind to wield wooden-cross-style in the face of so much vampiric deliciousness.

For most people the food at my workplace is a dream come true, but for me it quickly becomes a nightmare of unchecked indulgence. When I came back from maternity leave, I knew I needed help. I needed a plan, a tool of some kind to wield wooden-cross-style in the face of so much vampiric deliciousness. I found that tool in my iPhone camera and a Tumblr feed.

I Didn’t Eat This is a blog of all the food at IDEO I’ve managed not to eat.

Photographing treats gave me a different way to consume them. I still got to have my moment with that cookie. While framing it up on my phone, I could savor its delectableness and availability—its sultry, loose, wanton availability, just sitting there on that napkin all alone—but then, instead of popping it in my mouth, I'd just hit a button and move on. I’d leave satisfied, yet the cookie would remain. One of my coworkers remarked that when I snapped a pic, I was capturing the cookie’s soul.

Sharing the blog became important, too. Word got around the office that I was using I Didn’t Eat This as tool for behavior change. The accountability helped. With every post, someone would joke that they had, in fact, eaten it—all the spiced carrot cake with orange-scented frosting that somebody brought from home—and I told them that was great. The blog wasn’t about shame or guilt. It celebrated food. And it celebrated my growing ability to say no to it.

One of my coworkers remarked that when I snapped a pic, I was capturing the cookie’s soul.

And, amazingly, it started to work. I replaced one behavior with another and the pounds began to drop. True, my new habit kept the cupcakes out of my piehole, but its real power was that it made me mindful. I now experienced a moment of choice — of personal agency — when I spied something yummy in the kitchen. Did I want to eat that yumminess or take its picture? Taste the food or just toast to it?

I’m now about eleven months into this experiment and I wish I could say that sticky brioche french toast bites no longer hold my mind prisoner, but nothing is ever that easy. I will say, though, that the moments of agency build on one another. It feels good to be in control. Soon after I started the blog, I found myself dusting off the old food-tracker app, drinking more water, and eventually working out.

It’s rare that I stick with any behavior for more than a few months at a time, but whenever one slips out of reach, another is there to rise and take its place, like an endless supply of chocolate-covered almonds. Or another slice of spiced carrot cake with orange-scented frosting. Or a cheddar-cheese arepa with chipotle aioli, all cozied up in a handy to-go wrapper.

Maybe I better go free up some space on my iPhone.

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Here’s what they won’t tell you about IDEO, or for that matter any company where you might happen to work: It will make you fat.

Here’s what they won’t tell you about IDEO, or for that matter any company where you might happen to work: It will make you fat.

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.