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Sustainability has shaped every choice that brought us to this point, from the seed in the ground to the garment against your skin.
This page is our transparency, an invitation to see what we see. When you know where a garment comes from, wearing it becomes an act of devotion, to your body, to the earth. The quietest form of activism there is.
Our fibre comes from Heilongjiang province, home to some of the richest soil on earth. Deep, mineral-dense ground and a climate suited to rain fed growing conditions means our hemp needs none of the heavy irrigation conventional cotton demands, yet still yields exceptional quality.
It's one of only two provinces in China with formal government regulation of industrial hemp, grown in varieties bred specifically for fibre. Our suppliers comes from generations of craft, not experimentation, and a supplier we're proud to support as we work toward bringing these systems home to Australia.
Heilongjiang has spent decades refining flax processing at scale, and that same expertise now shapes how hemp fibre is spun and woven. Our fibre moves through mature, considered systems, not experimental ones.
Local agricultural institutes have spent years developing these fibre-specific varieties, and that specialisation is felt in the hand of the finished cloth.
Our fabric supplier is based in Hangzhou, Zhejiang province, one of China's most established textile regions, shaped by centuries of fine weaving and silk craftsmanship. Their strong dyeing and finishing capability supports the OEKO-TEX and GOTS-certified, non-toxic processes we require, and proximity to the fibre-growing regions further north keeps our supply chain shorter and more traceable.
We've visited in person, met the CEO and workers throughout the fibre to fabric process, and found genuine warmth and impressive working conditions at every stage. They control the entire process in-house, from spinning through to weaving, dyeing and finishing, with every batch tested by independent labs including SGS, ITS and BV.
In 2019, I travelled through China alone in search of the right supplier, without speaking a word of the language. I didn't know what to expect, but I was welcomed in with open arms.
I met the CEO and the workers throughout the fibre-to-fabric process, shared lunch with the team, and saw firsthand the kind of working conditions I could stand behind, not just the ones a supplier tells you about on a call. There was a warmth there I didn't expect to find on the other side of the world, in a factory, from people who'd never met an Australian before.
They're proud pioneers of the hemp industry in this region, controlling the entire process in-house from spinning through to weaving, dyeing and finishing. That pride shows in the craftsmanship behind every batch we receive.
Our garments are sewn by a manufacturer who specialises in undergarments, using machinery built for the fine, precise construction our unique knitted hemp stretch blend requires.
We partnered with an aligned, ethical manufacturer close to the fabric itself, cutting unnecessary freight and emissions from the chain. I visited their facility personally and was genuinely impressed, the technology in use was more advanced than anything I'd seen across the fashion industry, built for the precision undergarment construction demands: fine seams, stretch handling, coverage, comfort against skin.
Before founding Hempire, I worked in the fashion industry in Sydney, including with Australian Made manufacturing. I looked closely at bringing production home. But sending fabric from China to Australia, then manufacturing here, added cost, complexity and carbon emissions that simply wasn't viable at our scale, without compromising the price point our customers deserve, or our commitment to a lighter footprint.
So instead, we partnered with a manufacturer close to the fabric itself, cutting unnecessary freight, cost and time out of the chain. Their systems made the entire process more efficient without cutting corners on quality, exactly what undergarment construction demands.
GOTS = governs the organic fibre content and controls what's allowed to go into the process
OEKO-TEX = independently tests the dyes, finishes and final finished fabrics to confirm nothing harmful made it through
Together, these two certifications cover both ends of our process: what's permitted going in, and what's verified in the finished fabric you wear.
GOTS (Global Organic Textile Standard) governs the organic fibre content in our fabric and controls what's permitted throughout processing, from dyes and chemicals to wastewater treatment. It covers the entire supply chain, farm to finished garment, verified through annual audits.It matters because organic farming alone isn't enough, cotton grown organically can still be processed with harsh dyes, chlorine bleach or formaldehyde, undoing the good work done at the farm level. GOTS closes that gap by regulating every stage of production, not just how the fibre was grown.To be certified, a product must contain at least 95% certified organic fibre, and every company along the supply chain must hold its own GOTS certification. The standard governs dye toxicity, wastewater treatment and fair labour conditions, enforced through mandatory annual audits, meaning "organic" isn't just claimed, it's independently verified from soil to seam.
OEKO-TEX Standard 100 is our dye factory's certification. It tests the finished fabric itself in a lab, checking for the actual presence of harmful substances, regardless of which standard governed the inputs. Where GOTS regulates what's permitted throughout the process, OEKO-TEX verifies what's actually left in the fabric once everything's done.
It matters because a garment can be organically grown and still carry problematic residue from the dyes and finishes applied during manufacturing. Formaldehyde, heavy metals, carcinogenic dyes and allergenic substances can all be introduced at the processing stage, long after the fibre leaves the farm.
To be certified, a textile is tested for over 350 harmful substances, with limits that get stricter the closer the fabric sits to skin, underwear and direct-skin-contact garments are held to tighter thresholds than general clothing. Certification is renewed annually, so it isn't a one-off claim but an ongoing standard the fabric has to keep meeting. In short, OEKO-TEX means what touches your skin has been independently tested and proven safe, not just assumed to be.
Hemp gives back more fibre for less land than conventional cotton, often two to three times the yield, hectare for hectare. Its dense planting and generous growth mean less land is needed to make the same amount of fabric, a measure an industry built on expendable land has never really valued.
Less extraction. More yield. That's the simplicity of regenerative thinking.
Hemp is one of the fastest-growing fibre crops on earth, ready for harvest in as little as 90 days. It's sown thick too, sometimes 200 to 300 plants to a single square metre, so the crop closes over quickly and claims the ground for itself almost as soon as it's in it.
That speed changes what a season actually costs. Bare soil left exposed to sun and rain for months is soil that erodes, dries out, and loses nutrients. Hemp gives it far less time to do any of that. And because it grows so quickly, the same field can rest longer between harvests, and the industry can grow without having to clear more land to keep up. Strong fibre, without asking the land to give more than it can spare.
In a single season, hemp can reach astonishing heights, with documented plants growing beyond 7 metres. Even ordinary fibre varieties comfortably reach 2 to 4 metres, depending on the cultivar and how the season treats them. That density is exactly what makes hemp so suited to bast fibre, turning sunlight and carbon into strong, structural cellulose at a pace few other crops can match.
More fibre. In less time. On less land. The maths speak for themselves.
A single hectare of hemp can draw down around 10 tonnes of carbon dioxide from the air each year, held inside the same durable cellulose fibres that eventually become your underwear.
That makes hemp remarkably good at short-term carbon capture, especially set against slow-growing perennial fibres, or the pulp-heavy processes behind regenerated fabrics like viscose and modal.
A shorter growing season asks less of everything around it. Less water, less fertiliser, fewer pest cycles to manage. Where conventional cotton needs 150 to 180 days to mature, hemp is ready in roughly half that time, and needs roughly half the nitrogen too, often just 50 to 100 kilograms per hectare against cotton's 150 to 200.
The saving doesn't stop at the field. Most fabric sold as "bamboo" isn't the gentle, naturally soft fibre the label suggests. Getting there usually means dissolving the plant in caustic soda and carbon disulfide, a process that's raised real concern for the people working with it. Hemp never needs that. Its fibre stays mechanical, field to fabric, no chemical bath required.
Efficiency is a form of respect for the land.
Nearly every part of the hemp plant earns its place.
Bast fibres become textiles. Hurds become building material, paper, and animal bedding. Seeds become food, oil, and skincare.
This is closed-loop thinking made real, a sharp contrast to conventional cotton and synthetic fibres, where so much of the plant and its offcuts are simply thrown away. When we say regenerative, we mean nothing is taken without something given back.
Hemp doesn't ask much of the land it grows on. Its dense canopy shades out weeds before they get a foothold, and its natural resistance to pests means it rarely needs spraying at all. No herbicides. No pesticide programs. Nothing left behind in the soil, the water table, or the fibre itself.
Conventional cotton tells a different story. It covers a small share of the world's farmland, yet carries a disproportionate share of global insecticide use. Hemp was never bred to need that kind of intervention. It simply doesn't.
Conventional cotton is one of the thirstiest crops grown for clothing, often needing around 10,000 litres of water for every kilogram of fibre, much of it drawn through irrigation in places already short on it. Hemp asks for a fraction of that, closer to 2,000 litres per kilogram, and in many growing regions, rainfall alone is enough to see it through.
It's not only cotton that hemp leaves behind here. Much of the viscose and "bamboo" fabric on the market relies on chemical-heavy, open processing that uses and pollutes far more water along the way. Even Tencel, one of the gentler options, still needs a closed-loop industrial process to get there. Hemp's fibre comes largely from mechanical processing alone.
Less irrigation. Less pressure on rivers and aquifers that were never built to carry an industry.
Hemp sends its roots down as deep as three metres, breaking up compacted ground and drawing nutrients back toward the surface. It's why farmers have turned to it for centuries as a break crop, planted between other harvests to let the land rest and rebuild.
Its ability to draw contaminants out of soil, known as phytoremediation, has been documented in some of the most damaged ground on earth, including land near Chernobyl. Most fibre crops take from the soil. Hemp gives something back.
Left untreated by synthetic finishes, a hemp garment breaks down the way a leaf does. No microplastics shedding into waterways with every wash, no fibres that outlive the person who wore them.
That's the whole arc, from seed to skin and back to soil again. Nothing wasted, nothing left behind that the earth can't take back.