“We make magic clothes. Only clever people can see them,” said Slimas and Slick.
. . .
“Open the royal gares,” ordered the Emperor. “Let the royal procession begin!”
. . .
“…Ooh,” said the boy. “The Emperor’s got no clothes on!”
. . .
“I can’t stop now… I am the Emperor.” So he held his head high and walked on.
from The Emperor’s New Clothes
written by Hans Christian Anderson
various illustrators
accessed on YouTube 10/28/24
Mrs. Owl’s Stories
Mom was not big on Halloween. Neither am I. When the kids were small, I dressed each of them in a white pillowcase. I measured and cut out the eye holes and saved the little “ghosts” from year to year.
A few years ago, I found an old pillowcase in the stack of pillowcases that tend to accumulate in the linen closet. Scratching my head a little, I opened it up to find two little eye holes. After a wistful chuckle, I cut it up into rags. Yes, I’m still using them.
When my younger daughter was in high school, one of her friends told her about “The Village Store.” She asked me to take her there. We browsed past a stack of dusty record albums, some toys in various conditions, and racks and racks of clothes, sorted by color then by size.
I nudged my daughter aside so no one would be embarrassed by what I wanted to tell her.
“I think these clothes have been worn before,” I said as close to under-my-breath as I could.
To my utter surprise, she laughed. “That’s the kind of store this is,” she explained.
“Oh,” was all I could muster. In those “olden” days, I was the one who didn’t understand. About being practical. About how to purchase quality merch. About why all of it was and still is important. It was the 1990s, and everyone should have known more about what happens when we throw things away. That our “away” is someone else’s “here.”
Whether I learned something from my daughter that day or whether I took my own time figuring things out, I’ve never been much of a consumer. I buy as little as I can. My clothes are old and so are most things in my house. When I need a new outfit or pair of jeans or a jacket, I check first at my local consignment shop. I also go to second-hand stores. I buy the best quality I can so it will last.
Big box stores and even department stores are full of clothes from far-away countries like China, India, and Bangladesh made by people who are usually not compensated fairly or treated well.
It’s an entire industry with a name: Fast Fashion. Like fast food, fast fashion is all about making money for the factory owners as fast as they can. The workers, the store managers, the customers, and even GoodWill and Salvation Army outlet stores all have a stake in the products. And so do the oceans, but more about that in a minute.
According to an article in Vogue's online newsletter, April 24, 2024, fast fashion is not so much a “thing” as a way of manufacturing, marketing, and selling clothing.
When the Industrial Revolution was in full swing, from the 1700s to about 1840, new technology like the spinning jenny (1764), the power loom (1784), and the cotton gin (1793) made the textile industry more efficient. Fewer workers were needed to create more product faster. As clothing became less expensive, more people could afford to buy more and more, creating more demand. Because the items were not made as well, and because they used inferior materials, they had a shorter life.
And to ensure this loop, the industry created fashion fads. Think bell-bottoms and blouses with shoulder holes and ripped-on-purpose jeans. Fads usually appeal to a particular demographic and the sense of shared identity wearing the “in thing” reinforces its hold. It’s the perpetual tension between being part of a group while still maintaining our individual style.
Then the fad evaporates and we need the next new thing. Of course, the old stuff is tossed or donated to show up again, a little shoddier and a little less expensive. Then it’s landfilled or ends up disintegrating to its micro-plastic self in the ocean and eventually our food supply.
An article in Forbs.com notes that “[o]n average Americans buy a new piece of clothing every five days” and “90% of our clothing is thrown away before it needs to be.”
But what if the solution turns out to be easy? What if some of those new pieces of clothing we buy every five days are sustainable, long-wearing, and classic? Enter Slow Fashion. Just like fast fashion, it’s a thing, too.
The Pretty Planeteer lists companies that sell slow fashion and provides links to their websites.
Check out Conscious Life & Style’s website. It is easy to browse and includes lots of information and choices. The categories in their catalog include everything sustainable, from furniture and storage containers, beauty products and perfume, to dishwasher detergent and, of course, slow fashion items.
I won’t be designing any Halloween costumes this year, but I’ll spend some time on Conscious Life and Style. I saw a package of dishwasher pods I’d like to try.
I haven’t finished Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books by Kirsten Miller (William Morrow, 2024), but I’m enjoying it so far!
Be curious! (and live as sustainably as you can)
. . .
“Open the royal gares,” ordered the Emperor. “Let the royal procession begin!”
. . .
“…Ooh,” said the boy. “The Emperor’s got no clothes on!”
. . .
“I can’t stop now… I am the Emperor.” So he held his head high and walked on.
from The Emperor’s New Clothes
written by Hans Christian Anderson
various illustrators
accessed on YouTube 10/28/24
Mrs. Owl’s Stories
Mom was not big on Halloween. Neither am I. When the kids were small, I dressed each of them in a white pillowcase. I measured and cut out the eye holes and saved the little “ghosts” from year to year.
A few years ago, I found an old pillowcase in the stack of pillowcases that tend to accumulate in the linen closet. Scratching my head a little, I opened it up to find two little eye holes. After a wistful chuckle, I cut it up into rags. Yes, I’m still using them.
When my younger daughter was in high school, one of her friends told her about “The Village Store.” She asked me to take her there. We browsed past a stack of dusty record albums, some toys in various conditions, and racks and racks of clothes, sorted by color then by size.
I nudged my daughter aside so no one would be embarrassed by what I wanted to tell her.
“I think these clothes have been worn before,” I said as close to under-my-breath as I could.
To my utter surprise, she laughed. “That’s the kind of store this is,” she explained.
“Oh,” was all I could muster. In those “olden” days, I was the one who didn’t understand. About being practical. About how to purchase quality merch. About why all of it was and still is important. It was the 1990s, and everyone should have known more about what happens when we throw things away. That our “away” is someone else’s “here.”
Whether I learned something from my daughter that day or whether I took my own time figuring things out, I’ve never been much of a consumer. I buy as little as I can. My clothes are old and so are most things in my house. When I need a new outfit or pair of jeans or a jacket, I check first at my local consignment shop. I also go to second-hand stores. I buy the best quality I can so it will last.
Big box stores and even department stores are full of clothes from far-away countries like China, India, and Bangladesh made by people who are usually not compensated fairly or treated well.
It’s an entire industry with a name: Fast Fashion. Like fast food, fast fashion is all about making money for the factory owners as fast as they can. The workers, the store managers, the customers, and even GoodWill and Salvation Army outlet stores all have a stake in the products. And so do the oceans, but more about that in a minute.
According to an article in Vogue's online newsletter, April 24, 2024, fast fashion is not so much a “thing” as a way of manufacturing, marketing, and selling clothing.
When the Industrial Revolution was in full swing, from the 1700s to about 1840, new technology like the spinning jenny (1764), the power loom (1784), and the cotton gin (1793) made the textile industry more efficient. Fewer workers were needed to create more product faster. As clothing became less expensive, more people could afford to buy more and more, creating more demand. Because the items were not made as well, and because they used inferior materials, they had a shorter life.
And to ensure this loop, the industry created fashion fads. Think bell-bottoms and blouses with shoulder holes and ripped-on-purpose jeans. Fads usually appeal to a particular demographic and the sense of shared identity wearing the “in thing” reinforces its hold. It’s the perpetual tension between being part of a group while still maintaining our individual style.
Then the fad evaporates and we need the next new thing. Of course, the old stuff is tossed or donated to show up again, a little shoddier and a little less expensive. Then it’s landfilled or ends up disintegrating to its micro-plastic self in the ocean and eventually our food supply.
An article in Forbs.com notes that “[o]n average Americans buy a new piece of clothing every five days” and “90% of our clothing is thrown away before it needs to be.”
But what if the solution turns out to be easy? What if some of those new pieces of clothing we buy every five days are sustainable, long-wearing, and classic? Enter Slow Fashion. Just like fast fashion, it’s a thing, too.
The Pretty Planeteer lists companies that sell slow fashion and provides links to their websites.
Check out Conscious Life & Style’s website. It is easy to browse and includes lots of information and choices. The categories in their catalog include everything sustainable, from furniture and storage containers, beauty products and perfume, to dishwasher detergent and, of course, slow fashion items.
I won’t be designing any Halloween costumes this year, but I’ll spend some time on Conscious Life and Style. I saw a package of dishwasher pods I’d like to try.
I haven’t finished Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books by Kirsten Miller (William Morrow, 2024), but I’m enjoying it so far!
Be curious! (and live as sustainably as you can)
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