Fair Trade Fashion, or "who are you REALLY wearing"?

I've agreed to present a sermon on sustainable fashion this summer at my church, and have been mulling over possible angles. The underlying challenge is that I really want it to be a sermon, with actual spiritual content, not a lecture. So I've decided to focus on fair trade fashion, and issues of labor and human rights. There's no question in my mind -- this is fashion's really "dirty little secret", and has been for centuries. When this Angelina Jolie is asked "Who are you wearing?" on the red carpet, the expected answer is the name of the designer. But designers don't grow cotton, or sew clothing. People do -- anonymous, hardworking people.

With fingers weary and worn,

With eyelids heavy and red,

A Woman sat, in unwomanly rags,

Plying her needle and thread--
Stitch! stitch! stitch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt,

And still with the voice of dolorous pitch

She sang the "Song of the Shirt!"

Poet Thomas Hood wrote "The Song of the Shirt" in 1843, three years before Elias Howe patented the first successful sewing machine in America. Instead of easing the seamstress' load, the sewing machine multiplied it. More to come...

My friends Liz Claiborne and Eddie Bauer

A while ago I called it quits with Eddie Bauer, my long-time beau. It was the classic case of irreconcilable differences; I care deeply whether or not my clothing was ethically and sustainably produced, and Eddie -- well, he talked the talk (all that outdoorsy stuff), but it was hard to tell where he stood, and there were, as the old song goes, "Too many fish in the sea". A lady does have choices, after all.

The other mainstay in my wardrobe was Liz Claiborne. She's my go-to gal for work and dressy attire, mainly because her ability to balance classic styling with fresh details. Given the tendency of most "green" lines to be either too-casual or outrageously priced, it was important for me to know where my friend Liz stands on the issues close to my heart. The company faired so-so in the recent Climate Counts scorecard, mainly losing points on lack of public information about its practices. Yet they were recognized for "making efforts towards...reducing the company's impact on global warming"; it seemed to me that Liz Claiborne, Inc. shouldn't hide its light under a bushel, but let consumers know more about whatever good things they are doing.

So I wrote to the company and got back a nice (though, of course, not very personal) response providing more detail about their efforts:


Our sustainable policy includes two major components to help minimize
our impact on the environment and achieve our environmental objectives:

* Waste Reduction and Recycling - Helping to preserve the
environment by using the principles of reducing, reusing, and recycling.

* Resource Conservation - Focusing on improving energy
efficiency in building design and construction, energy conservation best
practices in existing and future facilities, reducing energy costs
through environmental controls and identifying opportunities in new and
innovative programs offered through utility companies and with local,
state and national agencies.

Additionally, we recently formed an environmental working group within
our company to review our environmental practices and policy on an
ongoing basis to ensure we are moving forward on that front.

Looking deeper on their website, I found that Liz Claiborne is also a participating company in the Fair Labor Association and has made a commitment to decent and fair working conditions for the people who make their clothing. This is good news, and certainly helps me feel more comfortable about my next Liz Claiborne purchase. Even better -- Eddie is on the FLA list, too! I was able to find more information buried in the Eddie Bauer website.

One of the reasons that Climate Counts publishes it score card is so consumers -- and stock holders -- can encourage the so-so companies to keep up the good work and do a little more. If you have a favorite brand or retailer, do a little homework on them, and let them know that ethical fashion matters to you as a customer. And a lady does have choices, after all.

Green Fashion: The Scorecard

Climate Counts has issued its second annual Climate Counts Company Scorecard, which ranks major companies in several sectors (Apparel/Accessories, Electronics, Household Products and six others) according to their self-reported activities to addressing climate change. The entire report (pdf format) is an interesting read, since it relates the challenges and opportunities of going green on a corporate scale. They also offer a printable pocket guide (also pdf format) you can take shopping with you. The annual report's major drawback is that they limit their analysis to only the most popular and largest companies. So Nike (good) makes the report, as does Levi Strauss (one of the most improved) and Jones Apparel Group (in the basement with a big fat goose egg), but not Patagonia or American Apparel. One very handy feature -- the individual report page for each company not only explains in detail the reasons for their score, but offers an email link so you can let them know that sustainable fashion is important to you. As a longtime Liz Claiborne customer, I will certainly let them know that I think it's great that they are making an effort to reduce their impact on global warming, but suggest that customers would like more self-reporting and transparency about their pro-environment activities.

As for Jones Apparel group, who make some of my favorites brands, tsk, tsk! They earned a score of zero, indicating no activity in this area at all; someone at Jones needs to wake up!

More on Minimalist Wardrobes

A couple of weeks ago I spoke to a class at the University of Maryland and happened to mention my ideal "index card" wardrobe from 1970, and a student asked how many pieces are in my wardrobe today. That was a tough question to answer, because for me it's never been about garment count, it's been about storage space. In college, my entire wardrobe needed to fit in my mother's old trunk and a single suitcase, which held everything on the semi-annual shifts between home and campus. When I travel, everything needs to go in my medium-sized rolling bag (it meets the standards for carry-on baggage). And my current wardrobe fits in the allocated space in my circa-1950 house. (I say the "allocated space" because we actually have ample closets in other rooms and a large semi-finished basement which would hold more clothes if I were so inclined.)

So I came home and measured.

My total hanging wardrobe (warm and cold weather clothing, including coats and jackets) occupies about 6 feet of space, most of it in my bedroom closet.

My folded clothing for the current season is in a chest with three large drawers and four small ones. My out-of-season clothing is kept in three large drawers in the basement (in one of several units acquired from a department store that was remodeling its cosmetics department).

I own 24 pairs of shoes, of which half are usually in active rotation according to the season. I used to skimp on the number of shoes, but then I realized that (1) wearing the same shoes day in and day out just wears them out faster (2) accessories are key to a successful minimalist wardrobe and (3) I am so picky about shoes that when I find a style I like and can afford, I should buy it.

For as long as I can remember, I've had a practice of discarding something whenever I buy something new. It's not always a 1:1 trade, but more of an acknowledgment that space is limited. Environmentalism was only a partial motivation; the other (very important) factor is that I find clutter distracting and enervating. For readers who aspire to train their partners or children, I must add that 40 years of cohabitation have not altered my husband's pack rat tendencies, although there are signs of hope for the next generation.

Travels of a T-Shirt and more

I led an informal discussion of slow fashion at my church this past Sunday, and got lots of good questions. One particular area of interest was the environmental cost of a garment, and how to know which products to choose. For those interested in the long version, I'd recommend the very excellent book "Travels of a T-Shirt", which is just that -- tracing the path of a single, inexpensive souvenir T-shirt purchased in Florida back and both across the oceans. Another favorite is Patagonia's wonderful multimedia site, "The Footprint Chronicles", which lets you choose any of ten difference products and examine its impact. I've been eyeing the Sugar & Spice Shoe (despite the horrible moniker) and it was interesting to read the good AND the bad about them (it's an honest site). Among other things, I learned that the production of each pair of shoes releases 41 times its weight of CO2 into the atmosphere and consumes enough energy to power a compact fluorescent light bulb for 69 days, which leaves me with two thoughts:

1) All consumption has an environmental impact, even "green" consumption. Consuming less, and wasting as little as possible, is better than maintaining your current consumption and waste habits but switching to green products.

2) Can I see a comparison chart for Crocs? (The link goes to a wonderful discussion on Treehugger about the footwear you love to hate.)

My Ethical Roots, continued

Back in January, I began telling the story of how I became a conscious consumer. My thoughts have been turning more recently to the first Earth Day and my life as an impoverished student. That's no hyperbole; between 1967 and 1971, I worked part-time during the school year and full-time in the summer to meet the expenses not covered by my full-tuition scholarship to Syracuse. In 1967, it was possible to work ten hours a week at a minimum wage job during the school year (full time in the summer) and pay my own room, board, books and have a tiny bit left over for everything else. That meant a minuscule clothing budget; I vividly remember all three items I purchased my freshman year (a winter coat for $20, suede boots for $10 and a pair of sandals for $3). Luckliy, I knew how to sew, skirts were getting shorter and the hippie aesthetic was sweeping college campuses, which meant I could refashion my high school clothes into minis and wear my brother's cast-offs.

Becoming an apparel design major my sophomore year was a shrewd, frugal move. Instead of buying text books, I bought fabrics for class projects, and at the end of the semester when everyone else was getting twenty cents on the dollar for used books, I had new clothes. Far from feeling restricted, I found that my financial limits spurred my creativity. Then came Earth Day, and my mother's mantra "waste not, want now" took on new meaning. Where many of my peers saw deprivation, I saw possibility.

Enter the index card wardrobe. During the summer of 1970, between customers at my waitressing job, I would scribble lists and sketches on 3X5 index cards, pursuing my own personal Holy Grail -- the perfect minimalist wardrobe for the future. From memory, here is the smallest one I ever envisioned:

1 pair jeans
1 long skirt (preferably made from an old pair of jeans)
1 short skirt
1 blue chambray work shirt
1 black turtleneck shirt
1 long-sleeved leotard in a color other than black
1 white turtleneck sweater
2 short-sleeved tops (peasant blouses or button-front shirts)
2 sleeveless tops (preferably halters made from old clothes)
1 vest
1 jacket (plain, blazer-style)
1 winter coat
1 pair sandals
1 pair boots
1 pair loafers or moccasins
1 pair heels
1 nightgown
undies and socks sufficient to take me from one laundry day to the other (usually 7 days)

The idea, of course, was that each item would be either so neutral as to be "invisible" (the black turtleneck, the blazer) or individualized so as to be a work of art (the work shirt and jeans, which would be embellished with embroidery and patchwork as they aged).

That wardrobe never entirely materialized, of course. I would have had to actually get rid of things to achieve it, and wearing the same jeans every day in the summer turned out to be a Very Bad Idea.

It appears I am not alone: others have played with the minimalist wardrobe concept:

Minimalist Wardrobe - November Vogue
the 35-piece wardrobe
Basic wardrobe (woman's) -- there's also a description of the same for a man

(The last two are from the very, very excellent Unclutterer.com.)