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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Our bell’s impressive literacy is the result of an experiment in creating cheap, simple, and easy-to-use networks of wireless sensors.

Miha Feus, the interaction designer at the helm of the project, points out that Internet-connected things are set to reshape our lives in ways we can’t even imagine. But while the technology isn’t particularly complicated, setting up and connecting the necessary sensors and receivers is difficult and expensive with the solutions currently available, and the battery life in these systems is terrible. Because of this, Miha says, experimentation by would-be makers is being stymied.

Miha’s solution is a system called Beachsand that aims to make wireless sensor networks, in his words, “as numerous, cheap, disposable, and user-friendly as grains of sand on a beach.” Beachsand is made up of a postage-stamp-sized smart transmitter called a SenseGrain and an Arduino-based receiver he’s dubbed the SandCastle.

You can plug any analogue sensor, button, or switch into a SenseGrain, measuring light, temperature, motion… anything you like. The SenseGrain then gathers data from those sensors and sends it to the SandCastle, and from there, you can use the information as you choose.

Miha explains that Beachsand isn’t really a product in and of itself, but rather a tool to help people cheaply and easily prototype new products, services, and data experiments. He and fellow interaction designer Siri Johansson have already prototyped one use case: the studio’s kitchen bell.

I caught up with Miha and Siri to find out more.

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What exactly is a SenseGrain, and how does it work?

Miha: A SenseGrain is an ATtiny85 microcontroller, which is basically a very stripped-down version of an Arduino, plus a transmitter circuit and a coin cell battery.

You plug in any analogue sensor or switch and set how often you want it to send data. The device then goes to sleep and waits until it receives whatever type of input you’re measuring (in this case, until someone rings the bell). The SenseGrain sends data from the sensor to a receiver, which, at the moment, is an Arduino, where you can access, use, and manipulate the data.

What’s so good about it?

Miha: It doesn’t require any soldering or programming, so it's easy to set up and requires no maintenance at all. I programmed the microcontroller so that it’s very energy-efficient—on standby, it can last up to 30 years on a single coin cell battery (theoretically, at least). And it’s cheap! Each SenseGrain costs $2-3 to make.

Because they’re so inexpensive, you could put them anywhere—in a trash can, for example, to monitor when it’s being opened. Or if you don’t want to check your mailbox, you could put a SenseGrain in there and Beachsand could just let you know when you have post.

Currently, anyone with an RF receiver on the same frequency is able to receive data the sensor is sending, and I would like to keep it that way. Keeping sensor data open gives more people the opportunity to build something with that data.

Can you explain your experiment with the bell?

Miha: It's our Kitchen Bell 2.0. It brings an ordinary object into the age of the Internet of Things, where every physical object has a digital layer.

Beachsand makes our bell more than a static object, limited by its location and the reach of its sound, and gives it the ability to transcend space and time to be “heard” anywhere in the world.

How did you build it?

Miha: First we had to pick the right sensor to detect when the bell is being rung. The simplest one in this case was a tilt switch. We plugged the switch into the RF transmitter and taped everything on the clapper of the bell.

The second part was about receiving the message from the sensor and sending out an email. For that, we used an Arduino and an RF receiver connected to a laptop, which talks to a program called Processing. In Processing, we used some existing code for sending out emails, which we modified for our needs.

What did you learn building the Kitchen Bell?

Siri: It makes you think about what the right tone of voice and personality is for a specific object. We wrote a few drafts of the bell’s email to the studio. It should be light and funny, but also demanding—it’s a bell, after all.

What inspired you from outside IDEO?

Siri: There's an interesting ongoing discussion on the narratives told by smart objects. Hello Lamp Post is a really nice example of giving a voice and personality to inanimate objects, and a lot of effort was spent to define the right tone of voice.

This way of working with sensors and actuators has interesting potential applications in both directions: physical to digital or vice versa. A couple of examples that work in the digital-to-physical direction are the UID cookie box, which rewards tweets with cookies, and Tableau, which quietly prints stuff it “sees” in its Twitter feed.

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What are you planning next?

Miha: Our colleague Alistair Norris is working on another application for the front door, to measure traffic in and out of the studio. We plugged a roller switch into a SenseGrain, which triggers every time the door opens, and added an Ethernet shield to the Arduino.

Beachsand is really still a work in progress. The next step is getting PCBs (printed circuit boards) done, so that I won't have to build every sensor transmitter by hand, which can take anywhere from one to four hours. With a PCB it will take just two to three minutes. PCBs are also less prone to malfunction.

Hopefully I’ll make a version with everything on board, including a littleBits connector. Then I’d like to build actuators, or “ActGrains,” to work with the SenseGrains and the SandCastle.

We’ll let you know more about Beachsand as we prototype more applications for it in the studio—or you might just get an update directly from our trash can, our front door, or the kitchen bell itself! You can find the code here in the meantime.

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The bell that rings in the kitchen at IDEO London sounds rather more sophisticated than the analogue clang you might expect to hear when meals and snacks are ready. Our bell prefers to send articulate email messages, like this recent missive: “I summon you all to the kitchen table for a Beer-n-Nuts with [Arduino co-founder] Massimo Banzi. Come join us. Cheers, your Kitchen Bell.”

Scott Murray is an assistant professor of design at the University of San Francisco, code artist, D3 expert, and contributor to the Processing language.

Scott is endlessly excited about using code as a tool for visual explorations of all kinds, from fine art to interactive data visualizations, but his students aren’t always quite so jazzed about the idea of programming. “They’re used to Photoshop and Illustrator, chopping up pictures and vectors,” he says. “Coding moves them into a totally different working environment.”

It’s Murray’s job to pry open students’ minds to not only the languages of code but also to a new way of thinking—a developer’s approach to solving problems and building things. To this end, he’s helping to continue the development of Processing language, which is tailored specifically to the task of teaching designers and artists to code. “There are pedagogical tools embedded in the language itself,” he says, like the use of familiar terms such as “stroke” and “fill” as well as processes that help students think like developers when approaching the craft of design. “For me, design is all about systems—not creating an image, but a system that, when applied, results in an effective solution,” Murray says. “Processing, as a teaching tool, forces students to think beyond the output or image they want to create and describe the system they’re making and what it needs to do.”

Processing gives designers new tools and expands their design thinking. It’s free, open source, and available to all at processing.org.

Keyfleas (2013) by Miles Hiroo Peyton

To get a sense of what beginners can do with the language, visit openprocessing.org and browse through the sketches.

If you’re itching to get your hands dirty, go straight to this collection of short, prototypical online programs that explore the basics of programming with Processing.

Check out the complete version of Scott Murray's New Year greeting card pictured in the header to this post here.

Every Thursday in Palo Alto, IDEO’s Digital Shop hosts an informal lunchtime presentation by someone who is using code to create something surprising, useful, or generally awesome. Colleagues from all around IDEO gather for a meal and leave with a week's worth of ideas to chew on. We’ve asked some recent speakers to highlight a quick insight or tool they’d like to share.

IDEO: Tell us about your drawings

Dave Russell: A few months ago I committed myself to drawing a comic a day for one month. I’ve never consciously drawn comics before, but I’ve always admired the narrative skill of artists like Chris Ware and Adrian Tomine, so I thought it would be fun to experiment with the format. While both these artists employ a semi-realistic style to tell human stories, I’m equally inspired by the strange and absurd worlds created by the likes of David OReilly and Pendleton Ward.

When do you find the time?

For me, drawing can be a way of escaping the everyday and exploring imagined worlds. Doodling is like my meditation—it clears my mind and helps me to focus. I try to keep these scribblings to a minimum in face-to-face meetings, but when I’m on the phone my drawing hand has a mind of its own. I’m often surprised by what ends up on the page.

What are your favorite tools?

My go-to, everyday weapon is the Muji Gel Pen. It’s versatile—thin enough to write with and a great weight for small sketches. It’s got to be black and it’s got to be 0.5mm. No exceptions. I recently started using a Pentel Sign Pen to draw with, too. It’s super smooth and the nib feels quite dynamic. It also bleeds less than Sharpies, the ubiquitous IDEO design tool.

Welcome to the What's in My Moleskine series, a periodic peek inside the notebook of an IDEO designer. Fast Company recently did the same with IDEO's Joe Brown, who had a lot to say about the all-powerful Muji thread-bound A6 notebook.

In this installment we hear from Dave Russell, a communications designer based in our London studio.

I have to find out if I can pull off a successful translation.

I found my most recent skeuomorphic inspiration in Tokyo’s Nezu museum, one of the best traditional Japanese art museums in the country. Nezu was hosting an exhibit on sensu fans. Originally invented in China, sensu fans were popularized in Japan by artists and calligraphers, who used them as a medium for their work.

Taking in the fans, I immediately appreciated the fantastic woodblock artwork and beautiful brush strokes, but what really struck me was their construction and mechanics: the hand-held fans open with the flick of a wrist. I couldn’t get them out of my mind. How did they open and close so efficiently? How did the bamboo supports slide smoothly over one another? Did the creators consciously build them to open with a simple hand gesture? And what was the point of making them retractable in the first place?

I began to realize that the only way to satiate my curiosity was to make a digital re-creation of the sensu fan. Translating the fan’s physical systems to the digital world would test my skills as a designer and help me to understand its essential systems.

Observable systems

In any skeuomorphic project, the question I usually start with is: What elements capture the essence of the subject? Is it its purpose? Or is it characterized by its design, its construction, its movement, or its interaction? To find the answer, I need to look beyond the face of the object and break it down into the shapes, motions, and systems that define it.

The first app I ever created was a tribute to an electric razor from the late 70s designed by Dieter Rams. I can remember watching my father run that razor over his face every morning. Though I didn't know it at the time, it was the first well-designed product I ever came in contact with. I can still hear the click of the slide-up power button and the sound of the vibration that it made as it glided over my dad’s stubble. When I built an app version of the razor, I realized that the sound and the micro-movements were the two key aspects of the design that I had to translate to make a satisfying digital interpretation.

I used a combination of animation, vibration, and sound (tilting the phone toward your face makes the phone play a beard-cutting sound) to bring the razor to life. The result was a super-tangible app that made the device feel so much like a real razor that you could almost forget it was a phone. Unfortunately, Apple didn’t quite get it—they claimed it was “too useless” for the app store—but for me, it was a ticket back to my childhood.

Considering design

Far from useless, skeumorphic explorations make me a better designer. The challenge of breaking down a real-world object into a set of Photoshop layer styles is my idea of time well spent. I strive for efficiency: Whether it’s lines of code or the number of layer effects, minimization is the key to honing my design skills.

When I did a translation of my Braun AW-20 watch, I managed to perfectly capture the essence of the watch in 27 layers with one to three styles each. I plan on returning to it one day to bring it life in code.

Bringing it to life

When I began my skeumorphic translation of the sensu fan, I felt it was critical to capture the physics of the opening and closing motion. This meant that I wasn’t working with Photoshop layers, but with code. At IDEO, I tend to design with code as much as I do with Photoshop or Sketch. Having a good grasp on code allows me to think deeper about physical-to-digital translations, and real-world systems are better expressed and executed in certain programming languages than others. My first attempts at recreating the fan were standalone applications in openFrameworks—a set of C++ libraries packaged together for creative programming. I started playing with the Box2D add-on for openFrameworks, which was put together by my colleague Todd Vanderlin from our Cambridge office. While the add-on worked perfectly, the digital replication of the fan’s real-world physics just didn’t capture the magic of the construction and movement.

Because the stand-alone nature of openFrameworks limited the reach of the project, I moved on to exploring more accessible web technologies like CSS3 and JavaScript. I had to compromise slightly on the real-world look of the fan, but the final expression really embodies the movement and interaction that fascinated me when I encountered the Sensu fans at the museum. What’s more, users can manipulate jQuery parameters to change the fan's size, color, and decoration—a digital version of what traditional Japanese artists have done with the fans throughout history.

By creating these translations and exploring the life of the subject, I end up discovering something deeper about the object's design and meaning in the world. Likewise, by creating these challenges, I end up discovering something about myself and my skills as well.

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A few times a year, I’ll come across something—maybe an object or system; maybe just an idea—and I’m overwhelmed with a burning urge to translate it into code and design. It’s a practice usually referred to as skeuomorphism, and once a project captures my imagination, there's no going back.

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.