When My Minimalist Wardrobe Met China’s Fashion Underground Okay, confession time. I spent the last three years building what I called a “conscious capsule wardrobe.” You know the drill: twenty timeless pieces, all ethically sourced, natural fibers, price tags that made my accountant wince. I was that person. Then, last November, my favorite linen trousers—the ones I’d saved for six months to buy from a Scandinavian brand—developed a hole after eight wears. Not a cute, mended-with-love hole. A catastrophic crotch blowout. In a coffee shop. In Berlin. That was my breaking point. My wallet was empty, my principles were bruised, and my dignity was, well, compromised. A friend, watching me…