Wallet Mouth

Antimony antipathy

I recently read William McDonough and Michael Braungart’s Cradle to Cradle, and one of the many thought-provoking points the book makes is that sometimes what appears to be environmentally friendly reuse in fact isn’t. They cite as an example the use of recycled plastic bottles in such things as carpet and fleece clothing, because PET plastic contains antimony, a toxic heavy metal.

As I wear fleece from time to time, I’ve been idly wondering if I should jettison the stuff from my wardrobe. Now comes this Treehugger post on the subject. Apparently we don’t have to worry about wearing it, just manufacturing it.

More footprints

A couple months ago, I blogged about Patagonia’s Footprint Chronicles site, which lets consumers see the path taken by five of the company’s products, from origin to distribution center. A new story on Fast Company’s website delves into how the project has “put the company’s design and manufacturing process under the microscope.”

It’s an interesting piece, but I found it odd that the opening description—of Patagonia environmental analysis director Jill Dumain “investigating,” camera in hand, one of the company’s T-shirt suppliers—was never followed up on to reveal what the investigation was for. Had the Footprint Chronicles found a supplier with dirt on its shoes?

Nope, Dumain just told me. The supplier, Nature USA, is a good company. Patagonia is “looking at the impact of a variety of our garments, and the T-shirts made by Nature USA are on the list for next fall. It was just their turn.”

Oh well, no juicy skullduggery to report. But it’s good to know they’re on the lookout.

Blue jeans neither black nor white

Last week I stumbled upon a fascinating story in The Independent about a man’s search for the origin of his “Made in Bangladesh”-tagged denims.

I expected Fred Pearce’s account of his Dhaka visit to include Dickensian details about penurious wages and abusive management, and it did—but there were also a couple surprises. Pearce had this to say about three workers he talked to:

[They] all came from villages around Dhaka. Akhi had seven brothers and sisters. Back home there wasn’t enough land, and certainly not enough work, to support so many. So the families sent their young women to find jobs in Dhaka. Aisha and Miriam, sisters-in-law, together sent home 4,000 taka a month (about £30). The alarming truth was that these women, for all their pitiful surroundings, were the rich ones in their families.

It reminded me of something I heard China Road author Rob Gifford say on NPR last year: that while the conditions in Chinese factories are often deplorable to Western eyes, many workers there are content to toil for long hours under harsh conditions, because their jobs represent the key to economic salvation. As peasants in the countryside, their prospects were far worse.

Later in Pearce’s  story, he describes how the founder of a Bangladeshi advocacy organization supporting the rights of garment workers looks at the situation: “The jobs, poor as many were, empowered women. Western consumers, she said, should be demanding better conditions for the women of Dhaka, and above all should be willing to pay higher prices. And retailers should stop competing on price. But please, she said, ‘don't stop buying’.”

It’s a great point, but how can we consumers send the message that we’re willing to pay more? Write to the big brands, I suppose, and support certification systems with labels that give consumers assurance about how wares are produced.

Of course, many manufacturers already have their own production standards and codes of conduct in place, but there’s often a disconnect between the standards and reality. Pearce’s story provides yet another example:

The buyers—the brands’ representatives in Bangladesh—make regular inspections of the factory, the women said. But “they always inform the owners first. Before they come, the managers come through the factory with megaphones. We are told to prepare the factory, to clean up. And they instruct us what to say about working hours and holidays and conditions. We have to lie about holidays especially.” 

I was excited to learn that the article is an extract from a book by Pearce: Confessions of an Eco Sinner: Travels to Find Where My Stuff Comes From. I’m adding it, and China Road, to my reading list.

The opposite of greenwashing

Speaking of transparency, outdoor-sportswear maker Patagonia has pulled back the curtain on the environmental effects and manufacturing processes behind some of its clothes with a cool new web feature.

The Footprint Chronicles tells the life story of five Patagonia products, showing the path each travels from design through fabric acquisition and processing, and finally to the distribution center. Each stage of the process has a thumbnail photo that you can click on for additional reading or videos on specific factories, sourcing philosophy, etc. And each product’s page details the total distance it traveled, its CO2 emissions, the total amount of waste it generated, and its energy consumption.

It’s a pretty neat tool—it reminds me of Timberland’s Nutrition Facts–esque labels from a couple years ago, only with more detail. (Hmm, I wonder if Patagonia will ever put this info on its labels in some form?)

But I must confess that my first reaction to the data behind the curtain was tinged with disappointment. The Wool 2 Crew sweater, for example, travels a total of 16,280 miles (thanks in part to its wool’s origins in an eco-friendly New Zealand ranch), generating 100 times its weight in carbon dioxide emissions. As the webpage itself states, “This is not sustainable.” And the Synchilla vest, which is (happily) made from all recycled materials and is itself recyclable through Patagonia’s Common Threads program, still generates 44 times its weight in emissions, despite the fact that its mileage figure of 5,150 is significantly less than the crew’s.

First reaction aside, though, I applaud Patagonia for launching the Footprint Chronicles and being willing to give us the straight dope. That in itself speaks volumes about the company’s ethos—clearly, it’s genuinely interested in engaging with consumers on these issues rather than making vague claims of responsibility and then hoping no one asks for elucidation (like some companies). Personally, I’m more likely to buy a jacket whose environmental footprint I can know something about than one that’s shrouded in mystery.

Furthermore, it’s good for consumers to be educated about what a globalized economy looks like. Certain products may be better than others in certain regards, and certain companies may have a higher commitment to lessening their impact on the earth than others, but the fact is that most products zip around the globe, merrily generating waste, warming the atmosphere, and expending energy before they land on store shelves. The more people realize this, the more attention will be paid to making smart choices given the current realities.

One thing I was excited to see, in several of the Footprint Chronicles product pages, was reference to a third-party auditing firm. To get more details, I talked to Nicole Bassett, Patagonia’s social responsibility manager. Turns out Patagonia works with a number of different auditors, not just Global Standards (which is misidentified as Global Solutions on the website). “We want to work with local auditing firms as much as possible because of their knowledge of local law and language,” she said.

So are all of Patagonia’s factories being constantly audited? Not exactly. Bassett herself schedules the audits “when we want to know about a factory’s social compliance.” (I meant to ask how often that happens and what the triggers are, but didn’t). An audit is scheduled for each new facility that the company starts using, Bassett said, and she also checks on factories that have been in Patagonia’s supply chain for years.

While I had her on the phone, I asked why the Footprint Chronicles had such scarce information on the natural-latex components for the Honeydew shoes. The reason is that the shoes are actually made by a company called Wolverine. “We just don’t really have the expertise in shoes,” Bassett explained. “So we license our brand name to Wolverine,” and Patagonia simply hasn’t been able to get all the numbers from Wolverine yet. Bassett said she expects the information to be available on the next version of the Footprint Chronicles, which should come out in April, and should also include four more Patagonia products.

Shoemaker takes responsible step

Hooray for transparency! Adidas has made its list of global supplier factories public. (And I just learned that Nike did the same thing way back in 2005.) The move has been lauded by the International Textile, Garment and Leather Workers’ Federation, Oxfam Australia, and other civil society groups—many of which lobbied the companies extensively over the years on this issue, so they deserve congratulations too.

I’m not saying you should run out and buy a pair of sneakers to celebrate—after all, labor abuses are still rampant in sportswear manufacturing, as various Oxfam reports and analyses relate (check out these links to learn more). But it’s a far cry from the days when these companies refused to reveal their factory locations because of competitiveness concerns. (Of course, that’s still the case with many businesses, including über-greeny online store Gaiam.)

Any move toward greater corporate transparency concerning supply chains deserves kudos, in my book.

Amuse-bouche: wool subscriptions

The term “community-supported agriculture” brings to mind the image of a box of organic produce delivered to your door. But it can also apply to fiber, as this post from WorldChanging shows.

Ethical threads turning heads

To Mr. Wallet Mouth’s general relief (if occasional chagrin), I’ve never much gone in for haute couture. That said, I do wish I could teleport to Paris for the Ethical Fashion Show, which starts today. Now in its fourth year, the conference touts itself as a “unifying event” that fosters dialogue between industry players and promotes responsible designers.

And of course, it promises to be quite a spectacle, with exhibitors bringing the latest in catwalk fare from such far-flung locales as Chile, Indonesia, and Azerbaijan.

The 100-odd participating designers were invited only after meeting demanding criteria. They must comply with International Labour Organization rules concerning wages, health care, and the right to unionize. Dyes or other fabric treatments used must not be harmful to the environment. A portion of profits must be reinvested into local communities. Working with local craftspeople and making frequent use recycled materials is encouraged. And so on.

The show also features lectures examining ethical fashion entrepreneurship, responsible fashion in education, and the market for ethical fashion.

The latter topic is the one I find most interesting. As is the case with so many “sustainable” products, ethical clothes often come with a high price tag that puts them out of reach for many consumers. Apparel that doesn’t harm people or the environment shouldn’t be a luxury, but all too often it is.

The flip side is that events like this expose more companies to the idea of ethical threads and generate ever more demand for them. This should lead to economies of scale and to wider availability of nonexploitative fashion.

But in the meantime, many of us slumming at the bottom end of the market can rest easy shopping in an already-ubiquitous low-impact way—at the local secondhand shop.

Another score for fair trade

I learned about Fair Trade Sports, Inc. the other day, when founder Scott James commented on my previous post, and it’s so cool I just have to blog about it. Who knew there was such a thing as a fair-trade pigskin? I certainly didn’t, until now.

James’s company, which was started about a year ago, is the first in the U.S. to sell fair-trade sports balls—for football, futsal (indoor soccer), rugby, soccer, and volleyball—as well as sweatshop-free sports apparel. And if that weren’t enough, it donates all after-tax profits to domestic and international children’s charities.

It’s worth checking out the site, which contains lots of interesting articles and links. I particularly liked the explanation of where FTS balls are made and by whom.

Muddy waters make for dirty shoes

Last month I blogged about trying to get info from shoemaker Earth about its factories in China (link).

Why would a company with such a progressive image, I wondered, not be happy to verify its glowing assertions about the safety and labor-friendliness of its overseas contractors by having those operations inspected by one of the many third-party certifying organizations that exist for this precise purpose?

Why, in short, should consumers trust any corporation to effectively police itself?

(Since my original post, I’ve learned that problems still exist even when such certifiers are used, but I remain convinced that auditing is the best way to go.)

Five and a half weeks after my inquiry (which went unanswered, so I sent two more emails and left one phone message), Earth customer service finally responded. After disingenuously claiming to have received only my first email (I know that at least one of my later messages went through, because I got an out-of-office reply), the representative wrote:

We do not have specific answers for these questions, and I’d rather not open up the conversation.

We hold our facilities in China to the utmost standard both environmentally and socially. Our shoes are manufactured in a controlled, clean, and safe environment that is inspected, not only by our top executives, but also by larger US corporations. Our factory and offices are cleaner than most US plant and our workers are living and eating far above Chinese standards. Ten years ago, our workers were walking or pushing used bicycles to go to work, today several of them have their own cars. In short, US companies are pushing the envelope and raising up the bar for a better living and better environment. Thanks to companies like us, we influence changes and improve people’s life. I hope this information helps.

A few thoughts that might get Earth more grounded:

1. If you don’t want to have a conversation about these issues, you shouldn’t use them as a marketing ploy.

2. You can’t make claims about something that consumers care about and that has an effect in the world and then refuse to back them up.

3. Cutting-and-pasting unverifiable cherry-picked anecdotes does not reassure informed customers asking crucial questions. Rather, it insults them, invites claims of greenwashing (etc.), and pisses them off.

I followed up (politely) asking what “larger US corporations” means. What type of corporations? Fellow shoe manufacturers, perchance?

Evidence suggests I should hear back, oh, maybe by the end of September.

Pangea deserves props for unabashed support of fair labor

What a great feeling to find an e-commerce site that states in big letters on its home page that it sells “only goods made in countries where labor laws or unions are in place to protect the workers! We don’t sell any products made in China or other countries known for sweatshops.”

The site is Pangea, a.k.a. the Vegan Store. I’m not a vegan, but I buy vegan shoes (and avoid leather in general) because of my deep antipathy toward industrial cattle operations and their harmful effects on the environment. Plus, quite frankly, I feel bad for the cows.

Pangea sells not only shoes but all sorts of things: cleaning products, pet supplies, cruelty-free cosmetics and body care, etc.

How does it vet its merchandise? I traded email with Pangea employee Phil, who told me that the company’s main source of information is its founder, Shari Kalina. “Over the past 11 years she’s had to do so much research and have so many discussions with various experts that she has probably learned more than can be found at any single website,” he wrote. “For any unfamiliar ingredient, she’ll use the internet as a starting point and then get in touch with as many people as necessary for us to be confident about the ingredient.”

Which tells me that Pangea must be a pretty small operation. But it’s one I’m happy to support. In fact, I’m eyeing a pair of red No Sweat high-tops right now...