Rhoneisms

Do you ever think about them? The people? The ones who make your clothes?

When you see a country of origin on the label, do you ever stop to think about who they were and what their lives are like?

China, Bangladesh, India, Turkey, The Philippines, even the U.S.A.

Do you think about the person who picked the cotton… Or is that machines now? Wait, someone has to drive the machine, right? Did that same person plant the seed? Different machine? Then what? Did it go to a textile factory? How many people does it take? Are they happy?

Someone has to run the machines that make the thread and take the thread and make the fabric that is sewn together with thread that is made there or some other supply chain thread made by someone else who may not be happy and that then is sold to a brand that puts it on sale for a person like me but even that is a thread connecting back to the person who planted that seed and every other seed that came before it and… I think about them.

Did they get paid a fair wage? Enough to feed their kids? What is fair, there? Is that fair there or would it be fair anywhere? How are their kids doing? Are they hungry? Do they go to school? Will they grow up to do the same thing their father or mother does? Is that part of making shirts? Birthing a generation that will replace the shirt makers? Will those kids make shirts for my kids? Will those kids be hungry?

I ask these questions.

It makes me sad.

But, if I get my shirts that are made here in the United States, where is the cotton grown? What is the factory here like? Did they get a fair wage? Are their kids hungry? How much do I have to pay for a shirt to make sure no one is going hungry?

I think about this.

If I buy a t-shirt someone may be going hungry. If I don’t buy a t-shirt someone may be going hungry. Gah! I’ll buy the shirt!

$50? $100? Is that enough?

How much do I have to pay to make sure no one is beaten or abused or paid less that their labor is worth and that their kids are happy and full and going to school and getting a job where they can be paid a fair wage for a fair days work and that “fair” means to them what it means to me which is my kids won’t be hungry.

I don’t have answers. Only questions. Questions about a t-shirt that end up in exploitation and hunger because as a Black man in America I can’t ignore that this is the very reason I am a Black Man in America and not Africa because the thread that binds me to my ancestors can be stitched back to the desire for someone who wanted cheap clothing and a system that exploited humans to give it to them.

I think about this. You should too.

A couple of the ways the minimalist crowd often offers up as a way of owning/buying less clothes is to develop a uniform (a la Steve Jobs) or a capsule wardrobe (a la Project 333). Both are decent ideas and will help you achieve that goal. That said, both also are either a bit extreme (in the case of the Steve Jobs style uniform) or impracticable for most in the long run (in the case of Project 333).

The broader, and I dare say more accessible, idea behind both is the idea of developing a personal style. This is something anyone can do — likely using most if not all of what you already have. Because, in all likelihood, you already have a personal style and have not just identified it.

Identifying and settling non a personal style can be tremendously helpful when making the effort to buy less. Because once one says,”This is my personal style”, one can automatically say, “no” to anything that is not that style.

If your personal style is jeans and a t-shirt, then you can automatically avoid buying anything that is not either jeans or a t-shirt.

If you’re personal style is to dress like a Japanese Hiker, then chinos and button ups are likely something you can dismiss purchasing out of hand.

Another way to go about this is to develop a seasonal “uniform” based on what you already have. This is something I have done for the past few years. I look at what I have enough of to cover most days, how I’m feeling about it, what kinds of things I know I’m likely to do every day, etc. I even make a sketchnote of my choices for the season, thus allowing me a reference should I feel like I’ve lost my way (plus it’s fun to go back and look as what I chose the year previously).

This year, that uniform is a flannel shirt with a workshirt over that and jeans or fatigue pants on the bottom. Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t occasionally wear a sweater instead of the workshirt or a denim shirt instead of the flannel. The main reason for deciding the uniform up front is to remind myself that I already have everything I need for the coming season, have a [sensible default] that I can fall back to when I don’t know what to wear, and box out anything new I find myself wanting by remembering I already have a uniform, have enough of what I need for it, and don’t need to buy anything else.

In the middle of writing this series on not buying new clothes, my sneakers began to fall apart. It actually started at the beginning of the summer, when I began to notice the sole separating from the uppers of my Nike Killshot 2s. But it seems, in the time since I began to ponder this series, like it has become exponentially worse. Almost as if the universe is saying, “No new clothes, huh? We’ll see about that…”

I’ve had them for a couple of years so it does not come as a surprise. As I’ve established, I’m hard on shoes. And it’s not exactly like modern sneakers by major brands are made to last these days. One should know going in, as with many such things in the clothing world, that if you’re paying $90 for a pair of sneakers you should consider them essentially disposable out of the box.

And yet, I find myself faced with an interesting test of my intentions in this area. Here’s some of the places my thoughts are going…

One can purchase, very high quality, hand made, resoleable sneakers. They are out there and have a cost that corresponds to that quality. Like other quality boot and shoe makers, the cost is offset by the idea that these may be the last sneakers one will need to purchase. That one can get them repaired and resoled when time and tear takes its inevitable toll. But, I don’t know if I’d be ready to pull that trigger yet.

I could simply buy a new pair of a major brand now, likely even the same model (I do like them, style wise) knowing what I’m getting in return (see above: knowing I’ll be back here again in two years).

But, here’s the other part of my thinking, I live in Minnesota. I’ll likely only be wearing sneakers for another six weeks or so. The snow will start to fall and I’ll be wearing boots until next spring. Therefore, if I can keep these current shoes going for a while, I can push off any decision until then.

So, last night, I ordered up some Shoe Goo and will use it to repair the ones I have and, hopefully, have them hold together for a few more weeks. I have other casual shoes I can wear if it doesn’t work out (some Merrell Moab hikers). And, I can avoid having to purchase in desperation and take some time to consider how best to move forward.