Here you are.
- SoupCycle Logo
I’m graduating this weekend from Bainbridge Graduate Institute.
Also graduating are Jed and Shauna, co-founders of Portland-based SoupCycle.
“Think delicious, warm, buttery saffron risotto soup personally delivered by bicycle to your front door. SoupCycle delivers locally-sourced, freshly made soups to homes and offices.”
It has been my privilege to have gotten to work with them on a logo for their new company:
Good luck Jed and Shauna!
- The Problem with the “100-mile Diet”…
…is that it has been framed as a dedicated lifestyle.
You either do it or you don’t. It’s puritanical, and is doomed to be an absurd farse of the 00’s unless it can be more widely embraced. “Carbon neutral” may be an even harder for the average person to reach, but it doesn’t sound like something your vegan brother in Seattle tries for a year before anemia consumes him. “Carbon neutral” is framed as a goal, not an ideology.
(photo: cookthinker)
It would be more useful if the “100-mile” label was seen as a way to be conscious of how far your food has traveled, or even better, how close the producers of your food are to you, and what little excuse you have for not knowing any of them personally. And maybe rather than calling it a diet (remember what happened to Atkins on his own diet?) we should use it to label our our products. 100-mile coffee is improbable where I live. Yet it should be hard to not buy a 100-mile apple. If we know what can be grown locally, we can seek it out.
Same goes for the 100-mile wardrobe. I may never wear 100-mile cotton in Seattle, but how ’bout 100-mile bamboo? 100-mile hemp can’t be that far off either.
(photo: franciscoantunes)
If we are educated about the things we buy, we will want better things. All of this gets more of us asking important questions. How many 100’s of miles did your clothing travel to be woven? How far then to be dyed? How far then to be sewn? How far then to reach the fantastic machine that makes you jeans look old and worn? How far then to the store where you bought it? How far then to store where you will sell it? How far then to the recycling station, where I will get it for free and turn it into something beautiful? How much money changed hands at each of these steps anyway?
I don’t know anyone who made any of the clothes I wear. I know people that printed some of it (6 or 7 items). I know someone who knows someone who made one piece. Is connecting to the sources of your food, clothing and housing just a kitschy dream?
- “Vanity + Sanity”: Tracking the Locally-Grown Clothing Movement
A couple days ago, I asked the question, “In what ways could we ‘grow clothing locally’?… What does a ‘100-mile closet’ look like?”
Sarah Rich at Worldchanging was asking the same question a year ago:
All of this ranting has led me to the question: What would a “100-mile wardrobe” look like? Most likely the fashion analogue wouldn’t actually be confined to a 100-mile radius, but how small a circle could we draw and still get the goods that make us feel good? It might not be a circle, since an apple is wonderful due to proximity and freshness while a sweater is wonderful due to the vision and inspiration of the designer. But even if the equivalent system is a more globally-distributed one, how can it decrease impact in a more whole-systems sense?
This echos some good feedback I got from Graham over at Transpacifica on my first 100milecloset post:
Now that doesn’t mean it’s ideal or ecological for us to ship in all our clothes from thousands of miles a way, but just like a 100-mile food radius, this works better in bountiful agricultural zones—say, California.
If we were to imagine widespread adoption of the locally-grown clothing concept, there would need to be some changes in the global economy. For one thing, subsidies and/or consumer choice would have to make it cost-effective to pay locals to work in textile factories. Textile industries that are key to the employment of large numbers of people in a variety of Asian countries would need to be replaced by other business.
Looking at ways to make clothing more environmentally friendly is a valuable pursuit. Since we can pretty much guarantee no huge number of U.S. consumers is going to jump on the train right away, this effort will likely help raise awareness and serve as a model that could pressure other clothing manufacturers to reduce shipping-based emissions. All the same, if this is too successful, it could have vexing (and fascinating) global repercussions. ::link
In my googlings on “100-mile wardrobe” I came across another instance of fashion following food: “slow fashion” (paralleling the “slow food” movement):
Slow Fashion is to clothing and design what slow food is to cuisine – natural, organic, ethical, local (where possible) and one-off designs with an emphasis on quality, and of course – taste. Slow Fashion means you can look fantastic and feel 100% guilt free. ::link
Vanessa Richmond at the Tyee’s got some good stuff on local clothes:
While reading the 100-mile diet series, I got to thinking about my other material indulgences. If food typically travels between 2,500 and 4,000 miles before it ends up on our plate, clothes are even farther wanderers. Hong Kong, where many of BC’s clothes are made, is 6378 miles (10,265 km) from Vancouver, and that’s not even counting
the distance the fabric travels to get from the mill to the factory, or the distance the fibers travel from their source to the mill.
Richmond points us to Angela Murrills, who coined “Slow Clothes” in 2004 in this article:
Take the freshness issue. There’s no question that when you buy Vancouver-grown, you’re getting concepts and ideas hot off the drawing board, designed last night and stitched up this morning. The new crop of designers just emerging from the schools is not just in lockstep with what’s happening, it’s ahead. This is design still with the dew on it, and, as with those Okanagan peaches, you know where it comes from. Buying mass-produced labels means you have no way of being sure that that T-shirt or pair of jeans wasn’t made by preschoolers in a Third World country. I’m not saying that there isn’t sweatshop labour in Canada–there is–but seeking out locally produced fashion does up the odds that the person who stitched that lapel or pocket (often the designers themselves) wasn’t working for peanuts.
Lastly, it turns out that Fashion High, part of the B.C. chapter of BALLE (Business Alliance for Local Living Economies) just hosted a “dress local” event, and has come up with the “dress local report card”:
Participating stores have to answer positively to three of the following questions to qualify for the Dress Local Campaign.
- Is your business locally owned?
- Where is the local content manufactured (B.C., Canada, China, etc.)?
- Are at least 50% of your store’s products designed locally?
- Are at least 50% of your store’s products made in Canada?
- Are the products created from sustainable or organic fabrics?
The Stranger’s Line Out reminds us that Vancouver, Seattle and Portland (a.k.a. “the realm of the three kingdoms”) should “be experienced as one urban realm”…
…but I may have to host a “dress local” event here in Seattle (with BALLE Seattle, of course)…
