Conscientious Consumption: Owning the Evil Toy

I have many weird, uncomfortable feelings about this iPad I got for Christmas. For starters, it's truly the fanciest thing I've ever possessed. I've never owned a new computer, a new TV, a smart phone or a digital camera, and this elegant device can stand in for all those things. It's just so pretty and current. Almost all my other stuff is second hand. I've never had the hot new toy before and honestly, I was a little scared to handle it.

Now I'm addicted to the thing, which makes it easy to forget my other major misgiving. This beautiful machine was produced in one of the world's most infamous sweatshops. I've tried in the past couple years to avoid purchasing sweatshop-produced apparel and other stuff, and even blogged about my efforts in previous Conscientious Consumption posts. I started hearing about Foxconn (where Apple iPhones and iPads are made) a year or so ago, after a slew of employees committed suicide. In January, the New York Times published a series of articles about Apple's foreign production, including this fascinating Foxconn exposé. It's old news now, but if you haven't read it, I highly recommend it.

I often feel ashamed of my iPad, but I feel more ashamed of the fact that it took me two weeks to read that article. I was brought up Catholic, so I realize that this may just be my own special neurosis. But in my experience, a lot of people get testy when confronted with the subject of sweatshop labor. I suspect that consumer guilt is the major reason. No one wants to feel like an asshole for owning something, so it's less bothersome to just not think about it. 


That was me a few weeks ago. Then I made myself read the article and I learned a few things that have given me a new perspective on my role as an Apple consumer: 


- While it's really easy to blame Foxconn for unfair labor practices, those practices have everything to do with what Apple demands from its vendors.


- While all computers are produced in foreign countries (mainly in China), the Apple/Foxconn dynamic is not universal. 

"Many major technology companies have worked with factories where conditions are troubling. However, independent monitors and suppliers say some act differently. Executives at multiple suppliers, in interviews, said that Hewlett-Packard and others allowed them slightly more profits and other allowances if they were used to improve worker conditions."

- Though I figured most consumers were unaware of Foxconn and their relationship with Apple, I found the actual percentages rather shocking. 

"Apple is one of the most admired brands. In a national survey conducted by The New York Times in November, 56 percent of respondents said they couldn’t think of anything negative about Apple. Fourteen percent said the worst thing about the company was that its products were too expensive. Just 2 percent mentioned overseas labor practices."

All of this got me pondering...


- If so much of our stuff is inevitably going to be produced in foreign countries by low wage earners, I guess I'd still rather support the lesser of those evils. Is there a way for regular ass consumers like me to know which companies are tied to less exploitative labor practices?


- Shaming consumers for purchasing sweatshop-produced goods makes about as much sense as blaming car owners for air pollution. Yes, all of our individual choices add up to one giant problem. But in both circumstances, corporations are at least as culpable and it's imperative that we don't lose sight of that.


- How do individuals influence corporations and government to promote reform? I don't fucking know. But I have to believe that if even ten percent of consumers were to associate the Apple brand with unfair labor practices, that particular corporation would be far more likely to address labor issues in a meaningful way. Since that article's publication, Apple has hired monitors to inspect Foxconn's facility in China, where employee wages have increased up to 25%. Again, it's important to remember that Foxconn responds to Apple's demands. Getting the middle man to initiate reform strikes me as an insufficient short-term solution, but I suppose it's a start.


More than ever, I believe that knowing the ugly truth is better than not knowing. So please read the NYT article. Here's that link again. If you read it on your iWhatever, it might make you feel weird and that's okay. It's also fine if you don't have any moral qualms. I'm not going to tell you to feel bad. But I'm not going to say that you shouldn't, either. I still feel icky abut this thing.

Conscientious Consumption: The Year in Review

Three months of wrangling later, I have finally received my union-made-in-America, bright green sweatpants. The original pair arrived in October with a two inch slit in the inseam. After much back-and-forth communication between me, the internet store and the manufacturer, I now own a pristine pair of pants, just in time for holiday festivity. Seriously, these sweats are really green.

The long awaited arrival also timed well with my decreasing patience. Most people would have demanded a refund weeks ago, but my special balance of understanding and laziness made me wait. I didn’t need the thirty bucks as much as I needed a pair of sweatpants, but I could have spent less on instant gratification if I had just sucked up my resolve and bought a pair that was made in a sweatshop. I had to ask myself why I was making this purchase so difficult for myself because I have bought other sweatshop-made goods this year (recent purchases include a stopwatch and an off-brand X-acto knife). This got me thinking about my 2010 resolution to buy my clothing second-hand or sweatshop-free. Why clothing? Why not all things? Does this decision make any difference? Why bother at all?

I’ll start by backtracking to the resolution itself. It all began when I read a Harper’s article entitled "Shopping for Sweat: The Human Price of a $2 T-shirt". I won’t get into that too much, as I already blogged about it in this post. In short, I was struck by two fairly apparent ideas that I had managed to ignore for many years: 1) Sweatshops are unjust and unsustainable workplaces (meaning that no person with any means will put up with those conditions forever) and 2) People in this country used to make the things that we now get from sweatshops, and it sucks that those jobs are disappearing. The second point is just as important as the first. I feel yucky buying sweatshop clothing because of the conditions in which those items were made, but I also feel yucky knowing that I could have supported our dwindling manufacturing industry.

So, I’ve made a conscious effort to buy all things sweatshop-free. I sometimes pay a bit more for my purchases. Mostly, I spend more time shopping because I’m checking all the labels. But I’ve been surprised to discover how many things are made in the USA. I’ve been able to find notebooks, pet toys, a cooler. It seems that usually there are three Made in China options for every one Made in the USA, but that just makes choosing easier (and when it comes to the dreaded shopping task, I’m all about “easier”). As mentioned above, I have failed from time to time. The knife is a good example – it was the only choice available at the Target where I was shopping. I needed it right away. I didn’t want to invest hours researching other options online, so I bought it. That’s the essence of the exception – if I need it soon and there’s no other choice, I may buy the sweatshop–made product.

I’m less likely to make exceptions for apparel, for a few reasons. First, I rarely find myself in a situation where I need an item of clothing right quick (except with weddings – the last one I attended led to the indiscretions described in this post). I can take the time to find alternatives. Second, I tend to buy most of my clothing second-hand, and while many of those items were undoubtedly produced in sweatshops, I also appreciate the value of reusing. But I think the biggest reason that I avoid purchasing new sweatshop-made apparel is that it is so pervasive. That seems backwards, I know. It’s the toughest goal to meet because almost all clothing is made in third world sweatshops, not to mention that clothing is a basic human need. I guess that the preponderance of sweatshop-made apparel bugs me because it represents a common, shoulder-shrugging acceptance of everyday injustice, and that just makes me mad. So, I’ve sought alternatives. I know that not everyone has the time, money or other resources to pursue those alternatives, but some of you do. Please consider this when shopping.

I guess that all thoughtful people have their pet causes. An elderly friend of mine thinks that anyone who isn’t primarily concerned about nuclear disarmament is an idiot, and I certainly see his point. I’ve also been told that my particular way of approaching the problem of sweatshops is ineffective, which may be true. The few dollars I spend or don’t spend won’t make any more difference than a blog post that will be read by (maybe) ten people. My resolve doesn’t rest upon my ability to change other people. I’m just trying to do the right thing. And barring any exciting news or developments related to this topic, I think that is all I have to say about it.

Conscientious Consumption: Shifting the Focus

I'm over nine months into my new year's vow to not purchase sweatshop-made apparel and I guess I'm doing a pretty good job. Other than a couple of regrettable Target trips in the spring, I've stuck to my goal. I attribute my success to minimal consumption and maintaining an old and increasingly threadbare wardrobe. Honestly, this doesn't represent much of a change from last year, but it feels different because I'm being cheap and lazy for a cause.

However, a recent bump in our household income, coupled with Dan's bulky once-a-month paychecks, has led me to another solution - online shopping!! I used to think, "Oh, I don't want to buy clothes online. I would hate to have it sent here just to discover that it doesn't fit. I would much rather try on clothes at a store." But it turns out that's just nonsense. I was so poor until a couple months ago that I never seemed to have enough money at one time to make online shopping doable (American-made clothing is more expensive - that's part of the challenge). Now that I'm not poor and I have access to lots of cash at the beginning of the month, I find I'm an enormous fan of e-commerce . As for that "I must try it on" business, I actually hate the physical act of shopping. I would rather wait an extra two weeks for a pair of pants that actually fit than spend two hours trying on pants at the mall.

But my favorite thing about online shopping is that I can find sweatshop-free, even union-made apparel, which I can never find at the mall. Recent purchases include a sports bra, a regular bra, a tank top, a black dress and a pair of sweatpants. I haven't received the sweats yet, but I've found my other purchases to be sturdy and attractive (well, the sports bra is probably more functionally than aesthetically pleasing, but I like it). All of this cost me about $150. I don't know how that sounds to you, but that's an astronomical amount of money for me to spend on clothing.

But then I consider the amount of money I spend on food - not just my fancy, yuppie groceries but also going out to eat. Without getting into the nitty gritty of my personal finances, let's just say that I can blow through $150 worth of food-related purchases pretty swiftly, not even including Dan's half. And once I buy that food, I consume it much faster than I wear out my clothing. In light of that, $150 for items that will last me months if not years... it really isn't so extravagant. So why does that dollar amount seem like such a big deal?

This notion has been on my mind for months, but I've been thinking about it more since I read this excellent blog post by a University of Michigan graduate student. In it, she talks about the supposed "virtues" of foodie fetishism, the sense of moral superiority that comes from buying local, organic and natural foods. She suggests that

eating “better” isn’t driven by evidence-based beliefs about what’s really healthier, more sustainable, more humane, or even better-tasting—which are often conflicting ideals anyhow. The main appeal of natural, organic, local, yadda yadda food is a deep, often inchoate, feeling that it’s superior, which precedes and trumps reason or any objective weighing of the evidence. I think what reinforces that feeling of superiority most is the experience of sacrifice, which channels good old-fashioned Protestant Work Ethic values like the satisfactions of hard work and delaying immediate gratification.

I have to admit that this describes me pretty well. I take some pride in the sacrifices I've made to eat "better" (spending more on locally grown and organic foods, cooking for myself instead of using processed foods, practically eliminating high fructose corn syrup from my diet, etc.), yet I don't know enough about agriculture or industrial processes to say for certain that my food choices are actually more sustainable or healthful. I've taken for granted that my thoroughly considered and pricey purchases are not only "better" but also "important" for me, for my community, for the rest of the world. Given that, I found this part of her essay truly dispiriting -

I first started thinking about this at a roundtable on “Food Politics, Sustainability and Citizenship” at the 2008 Annual Meeting of the American Studies Association. The panelists acknowledged that local, organic, and/or “natural” foods were not always objectively superior in the ways people want to think they are—they often require more energy to produce and transport even if they have a much shorter distance to travel, there’s no consensus on whether or not they’re healthier than the conventional, processed alternatives, and they are often labor-intensive and rely on child labor, unpaid interns, and the willingness of farmers to self-exploit. In short, they admitted that “bad” industrial food is often more sustainable, just as healthy, and possibly sometimes more ethical. But they all insisted that regardless of its real impact, what was more important was that consumers of local and organic foods were “trying.”

I admit to being completely naive of such arguments, a testament to how well I've been brainwashed. Thinking about this in the context of my new year's resolution reminds me of my favorite Gloria Steinham quote - "The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off." The notion that I may have been wasting too much time making conscientious decisions about food consumption isn't what's pissing me off. What really pisses me off is that I've spent so much time making decisions about one form of conscientious consumption at the expense of other obvious concerns, which leads me to this question: how can so many of my acquaintance care so deeply about where and how their food is grown yet have little or no concern regarding where and how their clothes or their cell phones or their kids' toys were made?

I know countless individuals who wouldn't be caught dead with a can of Spaghetti-o's in their hand, yet who are totally happy to boil their organic, gluten-free pasta in a pot that says "Made in China" on the bottom. I know because I've been one of those people for years. What are we thinking? How can we be so preoccupied with our culinary carbon footprint without considering the fact that most of our non-edible material goods are being shipped from the other side of the world. Michael Pollan and his ilk say that the cost of food has cheapened with the quality, that we should pay more to eat better because, after all, we used to pay more when dear old grandma was cooking dinner. But isn't the same thing true of all stuff? Why should this only matter when it comes to food?

I have a theory. I think that part of the appeal of the Food Revolution is the lure of "returning" to an agricultural utopia. I guess the idea of verdant trees and bountiful crops is a lot sexier than factories and industrial labor. I get that. But factories are what built my hometown, and I don't think urban farming is going to bring that town back to what it used to be.

I'm not trying to pit one cause against another. Nor am I ready to abandon certain food snob standards, like avoiding processed foods and h.f. corn syrup. I just think that those of us who care about sustainability regarding the things we put inside our bodies should also consider the ethics related to what we drape upon our bodies. Really, this rule should apply to everything, from notebooks to dog toys to ice cube bins (this is not a completely random sample - I have found "Made in the USA" versions of all these items). I know it isn't reasonable to expect everyone to buy everything sweatshop-free, but I'm pretty sure that a widespread effort at "trying" could lead to some positive changes both here in the US and abroad.

Conscientious Consumption: The Wedding Outfit

Ever since I got clever about my finances, I find clothing at the bottom of my spending priorities. I devote most of my income to food, shelter, paying off debt, therapy, savings, and bits of social and cultural fun, all while living within the limited means that my not-so-bad (by Michigan standards) and yet not-so-great (considering my intelligence) hourly wage provides. Perhaps if I didn't spend $349 a month paying down student loans and other debt, I would be more interested in new clothes. But now that I am trying to commit myself to buying only sweatshop-free or second-hand apparel, I find that even when I do have the cash, I don't feel like taking the extra time needed to shop responsibly. The result is that my wardrobe rarely changes.

Believe it or not, I used to be a bit of a clotheshorse. Cute skirts and uncomfortable shoes were more common than jeans and sneakers. I didn't wear t-shirts. But now, between being married and working a job that doesn't require me to dress any particular way (while also providing me with the largest collection of free t-shirts I've ever amassed), I admit I don't try much anymore. Sometimes I miss the days when my wardrobe actually garnered good reviews, but mostly I'm just thinking about other things.

Maybe that's why finding clothes to wear to weddings stresses me out so much. The big burst in wedding invitations these past few years has coincided with my dwindling interest in clothes. I seem to always find myself scraping for an appropriate dress or skirt with less than 24 hours before the ceremony. And then I wind up wearing something that feels too dark or too tight or too informal, and then I feel weird when I know I should just be having fun and feeling happy for my friends. I wish I could just get over my discomfort but in anticipation of yesterday's wedding (my boss's), I decided it would actually be easier to allow myself a little more money and time to find some appropriate, sweat-free gear.

I began with pre-paycheck reconnaissance mission to Orchid Lane in Ann Arbor. For the past several years, Orchid Lane has been my primary source for brand-new clothing. I like their loose-fitting, hippie batik style and the girls who work there are delightfully outgoing saleswomen. When I decided to shop sweat-free a few months ago, I was glad to remember that much of Orchid Lane's apparel is sourced directly from third world producers. The clothiers make a better-than-sweatshop wage and I get to enjoy their gorgeous goods. During my visit, I spotted a rack of colorful patchwork rayon sundresses in the $20 - $30 price range. I checked the tags and found the Orchid Lane label, my assurance that the items were fairly traded. On my way out of the store, I also noticed some cute, poly-cotton stretchy tank tops with labels that said "Made in Cambodia". Hmm. I asked the young woman at the counter, "Hey, are the items with the 'Orchid Lane' label fair trade?" She replied, "All of our items are fair trade." Really? Even the ones that say "Made in Cambodia"? "Oh, yes. The owner travels around the world buying clothes directly from the producers."

I thanked her for the information, but was nevertheless dubious. A few days later, I ran into a former Orchid Lane employee who I'll call Lydia - she happened to sell me my prized stripy lime green tote bag (made in India). I asked her to give me the honest truth. Are all of Orchid Lane's items fair trade? She smiled ruefully and shook her head "no". While that claim once was true, they have more recently moved in the sort of tighter, stretchy apparel that appeals to UM coeds, and most or all of these clothes are sweatshop produced. As I told Lydia, I don't blame Orchid Lane for making that business decision - I'm sure they make a bigger profit on the Made in Cambodia shirts, and I appreciate that they still offer sweat-free clothes for conscientious consumers. But I would have a lot more respect for them if they didn't encourage their employees to lie. Lydia concurred and admitted that that is one of the reasons she no longer works there. That's their loss. She was a damned good saleswoman.

I nevertheless returned this past Monday to purchase one of the patchwork rayon dresses (after getting some tips from Lydia, I felt assured that it was fairly traded). All that I needed were some brown ballet flats or sandals and a strapless bra to go with it. But then the week got away from me. Dan was out of town with the car. Wednesday was my birthday, which I devoted entirely to hanging out with my friends. And then between work, recovering from my birthday, catching up at the gym, and more work, I realized that I had only a small window on Friday morning to complete my wedding outfit. Again, with just a day to go, I found myself stressing.

I'll be honest, I gave up on sweatshop-free underwear a couple months ago. I can't afford to spend $14 on a single pair of bikini briefs. I made my peace with Hanes Her Way (made in South America - hey, at least the carbon footprint is a bit trimmer) and decided that I would not buy everything fair trade. I suspected that I would make the same choice with my next bra purchase, but I really hoped I could hold out for some second-hand sandals to go with my dress. But with limited time and the knowledge that Saturday's temperature would be somewhere in the forties, and that I would want to be wearing pantyhose for slight extra warmth, which meant that I needed closed-toe shoes (being a woman can be so freakin' annoying), I found myself at Target.

I used to love shopping at Target and I still appreciate that I can go in with twenty five bucks and come out with a pair of shoes and a bra, but what have I to show for it? A hideous foam brassier (made in Bangladesh) that actually made Dan laugh, a pair of paper thin flats (made in China) that will not last beyond a few workdays, and the knowledge that both items were likely made by young women who would have to work at least thirty hours to buy either one. In short, I felt like an asshole.

Well, what's done is done and all I can say is that feeling of awfulness is enough to make me even more dedicated to this sweat-free mission. Honestly, it felt way worse than that "I'm not dressed well enough for this wedding" feeling. So when I woke up yesterday morning with unresolved questions like, "What will I wear to cover my bare arms?" I decided I was done with stressing over the wedding outfit. I determined that my ultimate goal would be to have fun. I didn't think about it any more while I was at work yesterday. And when it was time to get ready, I found a few things in my closet to complete the ensemble - an orange linen scarf that my friend B brought home from her recent trip to Ethiopia, a brown blazer I had purchased from Orchid Lane six years ago (made in the USA!) and a lovely blue bracelet from an African bead store in Detroit. In the end, I wound up with an outfit I loved, one that hearkened back to the era when I was actually known as a snappy dresser.

And completely unrelated to that, I had a wonderful time at the wedding.

Conscientious Consumption - Girly Journals

I used to be a sucker for cute $17 journals, the kind that I would usually find at rich hippie boutiques in Ann Arbor. There would be some beautiful floral or paisley design on the cover and thick paper inside. For a short time I was obsessed with Moleskine journals, with their ultra-pretentious "Van Gogh, Matisse and Hemingway bought these, so you should too" marketing; obviously it totally worked on me. But at some point (probably when I was unemployed), I figured out that $17 is a ridiculous amount of money for me to spend on paper.

I used to find simple, pretty, cloth bound note pads at the old Afterwords on Main St. (R.I.P.) for four or five bucks. But when Afterwords bit the dust, I caved in and started going to Borders.

I hate shopping at Borders, especially in the girly journal section. I swear it's the biggest section of the whole store, with its stacks upon stacks of vaguely pro-lady themed blank books with dumb phrases like "Give me chocolate or give me death" written on the covers. As a woman, I feel insulted by that assault of bad taste.

So I got really excited when I finally noticed the stock of $3 journals right next to the Liberty St. store's front door. It's as if they're marketing directly to obsessive journal writers who hate shopping there. And though these journals are not the least bit pretty, they do have nice thick covers and a good shape that fits into many purses. And they're only $3! I have diligently filled at least a dozen of these in the last few years.

I was in need of a new journal last week and ran into the Borders at Arborland to grab one. I never shop at that Borders and was disappointed that they didn't have my cheapo book at the front door. I scrunched up my shoulders, marched toward the girly journals and suddenly realized why I always get that yucky Bed, Bath and Beyond feeling whenever I shop in that section - almost all of the products are made in China. Or Vietnam. Or in some other place where people get paid way less than $1 an hour to make journals, so that I can procure it at a rate very cheap to me.

I've decided that I don't need girly journals anymore. I've become an astute money manager and I love a thrifty bargain, but not when it's contributing to this fucked up economy in which others slave to create our cheap playthings. So I decided to go to buy a notepad at a drug store.

Of course, I ran into the exact same problem. I couldn't find any notebooks that said "Made in the USA". But then I found a Mead 5-Star notebook that didn't say "Made in Vietnam". It didn't say anything about where it was made. I decided to take a chance.

I emailed Mead to find out where that particular notebook was made and I'm very happy to say that it was made in the U.S. So there you have it. I finally found a $5 journal that was made in this country. The paper quality isn't that great. It's too big to fit in a purse, but since I treat the bus like my office, I'm more apt to carry a book bag anyway. It works for now. I'm sure I could find something much prettier and pricier that was also produced outside of a sweatshop. And maybe when I have more money I will allow myself that luxury. In the meantime, I'm just glad that I was able to reconcile my frugality and my habit with my desire to avoid sweatshop merchandise.

Conscientious Consumption in the Age of Skinny Jeans

Eight years ago, I could have fit into a pair of skinny jeans, though I wouldn't have tried. I was too self conscious for such form-fitting clothes. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a hater. It's a fine trend and if you can make the skinny look work, I say go for it! If I could today, I would.

Alas, my body is not best displayed in flesh-clinging pants, which is a shame, because this fad has taken over the universe. I can't recall a fashion craze that ever made me feel so inadequate about my wardrobe. I currently own two pairs of jeans - the very comfortable baggy pair that make my butt look weird, and the more shapely, but not quite long enough pair that displays my belly a bit too... candidly. A few months ago, I didn't care, but both pairs of jeans are so far from the skinny trend that I am constantly reminded not only of my girth, but also that I have dorky clothes.

I've been longing to visit The Gap or a Levi's purveyor, so I can shell out a ton of money for an easy fix to my problem. I've been studying my not-so-skinny peers and some of them have managed to find jeans that approximate the trend, without making them look like upside down Weeble Wobbles. I know the solution is out there. But, I've been broke. Yeah, I could have made clothing a bigger priority, but I spent my scraps of disposable income on road trips and a writing class. I've had loads of fun these last couple months, but those two ugly pairs of jeans are getting downright ratty.

So here comes payday, one of those two "extra" ones we get every year, and on the eve of a promising new decade, no less! I've budgeted my bills wisely and there's a little gravy on the horizon. I've been utterly impatient to replenish my closet, but then I did something that totally fouled up my plan. I read an article about Third World sweatshop workers.

You see, whenever I'm feeling sorry for broke-ass self, I like to read articles about Third World people so I remember how incredibly charmed my existence is. Harpers is my go-to resource in these situations. The January issue has an article called "Shopping for Sweat: The Human Price of a $2 T-shirt" and it focuses upon Cambodian apparel industry workers. I may as well say "Cambodian workers" because it's just about the only industry in that country. Anyway, these workers make an average of 33 cents an hour busting out tens of thousands of t-shirts annually. One factory makes boutique-quality t-shirts, at $2 a piece, for Aeropostale. Aeropostale turns around and sells those shirts for $30 -$35. Good grief, where do I even begin? I'll start with questions -

- Who spends $30 -$35 on a t-shirt?! Shoot me if I ever do that.

- Where do the other $28 - $33 per shirt go? Yeah, it helps pay for the retail space and the mall workers' wages and marketing. But what chunk of that pays their execs? I'm guessing it works out to be way more than 33 cents per hour.

Here are some interesting tidbits I learned

- On average, Cambodian workers make way less than Chinese workers. Chinese laborers earn between 55 and 80 cents per hour. "Made in China" has such negative connotations, but after reading this article, I would feel a lot better buying a product with that tag instead of "Made in Cambodia" or "Made in Pakistan" or "Made in Sri Lanka"

- The article also states that "Few Cambodians have supervisory roles in local plants... foreigners account for 84 percent of production planners, 56 percent of work study engineers, and 54 percent of line supervisors at Cambodian factories."

- Unsurprisingly, the vast majority of Cambodian apparel workers are young women.

So how is a young Cambodian lady to work herself out of the shack that she most likely shares with two or three other people? Some argue that sweatshop labor is a necessary stage in a nation's economic development (which implies a better future, perhaps not for the ladies themselves, but for their offspring). Others simply argue that these jobs are better than no jobs, and "no jobs" is the only alternative. Of course, the selfish and convenience-thirsting part of me wants to believe that I'm actually helping Third World workers by buying a pair of Levi's, but my intuition keeps tugging at my conscience.

I decided to consult the most conscientious consumer I ever met, my husband. Dan is the only person I know who shops online for union-made underwear and who also has an ethical stance on gasoline purchases (the purely South American-sourced Citgo is, after all, the most local choice). He is also a seasoned union organizer and generally knowledgeable about labor issues. Knowing that there is no simple answer for the conscientious clothing consumer, I asked him what his best choice is. His reply, as I expected, was "pay more for American union-made clothes."

But say everyone in this country decided to do that instead of buying $35 Aeropostale shirts - wouldn't that put the Third World worker out of a job? Obviously the answer is "yes," but we also know that isn't going to happen. Dan's point is that the sweatshop economy just isn't sustainable. "What usually ends up happening is that Third World workers get excited at first because there are jobs. Then after a year, they start realizing that the jobs aren't that great, and then they start to form unions. Once foreign buyers get a whiff of that, they pull out because they don't want to pay more, and they search for new sources of cheap labor." I suppose the model keeps working for the foreign buyer (that would be us) as long as there are untapped populations of desperate people. So in a purely cynical sense, it can work for us First Worlders for a good long time. But can we really fool ourselves that this source of underpaid work is really benefiting Third World people? Doesn't sound like it to me. At least, the argument isn't strong enough to make those Gap jeans seem like some great offering.

As for the idea that sweatshop labor is a necessary stepping-stone to prosperity, that smacks too much of "how can we survive without slavery?". Sickening.

On the other hand, I can see that this moment of reckoning is the next phase of my development as a conscientious consumer. Considering my general political beliefs and who my spouse is, it's long overdue. I've been conscious of sweatshop politics for years, and I cringe when I read "Made in (insert impoverished nation)" labels, which is probably why I so often chose to ignore those labels. Dan has been a strong influence on me. When we buy something together, we tend to buy it American-made. Our food choices are always as local as possible. But for me, clothing is that one last big hurdle.

So here's my plan -

- Continue getting the bulk of my clothing second-hand. This is a solid ethical and economic choice. It's less wasteful and it supports a local business (the thrift store). I will probably end up buying clothes that were once made in a sweatshop, but I can live with that if I am reusing something that someone else tossed away.

- Buy all the new stuff union made. I'm gonna try my best.

I think this combination is financially viable. I also like it because now I have a good reason for not wearing cutting-edge trends. The truth is that, compared to all the other things in my life (food, writing, travel, my family), I just don't care about fashion that much anymore. And besides, I figure this skinny jeans thing is bound to be the next stone-washed of dated clothes.