One Sling-back at a Time (II)

"This garment is made out of organic and sustainable materials. Why? Because it's good for you and good for the Earth! Live Free! Love Nature! Never the Norm!" Hang tag from an organic cotton and hemp shirt

Previously, I was puzzling over an Eco-Mindfulness-Vegan-Yoga costuming trend that I see embraced all around me. From what I can determine, and I don't think I'm far wrong, the emphasis on mindfulness, right action and ecologically aware right-living in Eastern philosophy has birthed a parallel movement in Right-Dressing. The Buddhist invective to "harm none" has found a roost in clothing and textiles and is expanding everywhere I look.

Not that clothing hasn't been part of spiritual practice ever since the tribal shaman was the only guy permitted to wear the ocelot cape, but it's interesting to me that costumers are elevating Eastern mysticism through clothing when genuine lamas and yogis are not, typically, regarded as fashion-forward icons.

For example, most Indian gurus seem content to wind a little muslin around their torsos and go. I'm fairly sure that His Holiness, the Dali Lama doesn't own jeans since one never sees him wearing much beyond his monk's robe and maybe a shawl if it's really chilly (I guess when you're born in the Himalayas you don't regard "cold" as an aberrant personal comfort zone). But that doesn't inhibit a clothing company called Mavi from finishing its jeans in something it advertises as "Tibet Cashmere Wash".

These jeans feature a "versatile medium wash" with "heavy whiskering in hips and light blasting in legs." What is all this "whiskering" and "blasting" that seems so violent for a pair of peaceful Tibetan jeans? It's a distressing treatment to the fabric which leaves it looking shabby at stress points (like pockets and in the crease of the thigh) that would naturally become worn from abrasion and washing if you just wore them for a few years (rather than discarding them as soon as "Bhutan Wash" or "Shiva Wash" jeans hit the market). How jeans became aligned with Tibetan Buddhism is a stretch of the sartorial imagination. I mean, when was the last time you heard of Fashion Week taking place in Lhasa instead of Milan, Paris or New York?

Dharma-wear is every where and it is possible to buy all sorts of clothing attempting to correlate consciousness with right-costuming. Riding the same enlightenment wave are people who may, or may not, actually practice yoga and meditation, but who have, nonetheless, entirely succumbed to what could best be described as a Yoga Lifestyle.

We see them in their organic terry hoodies and roll-top jersey skirts by Prana over boot-cut leggings. There is a flat shoe involved. There is a bag capable of carrying a yoga mat, enough bottled glacial water to keep an otter happy (should one crawl into the bag), power bars, a camisole and a cashmere wrap. The super-devoted may be carrying a copy of the Bhagavad-Gita or the Collected Poems of Rumi should she need to stop and center herself.

Men have a version of this outfit as well; hemp pants and a hemp shoulder bag are de rigueur, as is some sort of natural totem hanging from a leather thong. A 60/40 cotton and hemp sweatshirt, yarn dyed, in a color called "Yam", "Dune", "Cimarron" or "Verdigris" from Territory Ahead, and a sandal made from recycled plastics are included. There may be a bandana or a small cap.

And, in truth, this is what costuming is about. We have an idea of ourselves and we dress accordingly. Wiccans seem to favor purple and magical clothing with celestial motifs. Outdoorsy types wear their Patagonia mountain gear whether they're clinging to the summit of Anapurna, or running out for a latté. Young college drop-outs just hanging around outdoors seem to favor a sort of batik patchwork look imported from Bali, allowing them to recognize other tribal members who also embrace a Balinese groove...whatever that may be.

So far, so good. I like a world in which costumers interpret their inner longings for peace and enlightenment and, after all, a trend in Consciousness Clothing is not entirely new. Reflect, if you will, on the Nehru jacket, the African hostess caftan, the Native American print broomstick skirt worn with a pound of turquoise and silver jewelry, and the Indian cotton wrap-around skirt of costuming days gone by.

But, in these times it is no longer sufficient to just pull on your t-shirt that proclaims to the world that you believe in peace, vegetarianism, supporting organic produce, a Free Tibet or the wit and wisdom of Che Guevera. It's not enough to just look spiritual or appear to have a yoga practice. Consciousness, being what it is, takes the consumer just a bit further.

If you're really going to walk the walk, you need to take full responsibility for the raw material and origins of your garment. You need to be aware of your t-shirt's carbon footprint, as well as any life forms that may have been exploited in bringing it to you. And this is where it gets really interesting. This is where we segue-way from clothing used as a vehicle of expression to clothing as a conscious eco-religious mandate.

Now, spiritual folk have been fiddling with their food since the Old Testament. Whether we truly believe that God cares one way or another, many of us eat (or don't eat) according to an internalized belief system. Certainly, vegetarians, vegans, organic food growers and consumers are highly aware of the far-reaching impact that food choices make. It is very difficult to sit down to any meal in modern times and not undertake a benefit-cost analysis.

Myself, I feel terrible that I withdraw from the food chain several times a day and cause all sorts of awful things to happen to people harvesting cocoa beans and coffee and tea and grapes. In an unguarded moment, succumbing to a desire for a chopped brisket sandwich with extra pickles can spell doom for a cow that was peacefully grazing in Argentina. I'm sorry to the chickens for turning their ovum into crepes and to the shrimp which go so splendidly with cocktail sauce and margaritas.

Then I'm sorry for the garbage I generate, sewage I flush, carbon emissions I belch and hormones I'm excreting into the aquifer. My very existence is a plague to other living organisms and Gaia, all of which I am painfully aware. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

Until recently, however, I was living blissfully without any textile guilt. Sure...I knew about Asian textile sweatshops and the monster footprint that all of my cotton garments and bedding has caused. Still, Americans disapprove of nudity and I've grown accustomed to having towels in my bathroom.

But the confounded Clothing Conscious have made it all but impossible to pretend innocence in my textile consumption in the same way that the vegetarians have made me cringe at a BLT. A lot of energy and chemicals go into fiber production and since we are already worrying about the quality of our food, air and water, we might as well ratchet up a little anxiety about the plight of the silk moth and the environmental Armageddon that is cotton.

Should we care about such things? Well, at the minimum, even if your costuming awareness is limited to knowing that the fly on your pants goes, traditionally, to the front of your pelvis, you've probably observed that your life is filled with textiles of every kind. From the upholstery on your desk chair, to your spinnaker, to your shower curtain, to hygiene and medical products, down to your very undies, you live surrounded by fibers that have been grown, woven, knitted, sheared, harvested, extruded, dyed, printed, chemically altered and finished.

The cashmere sweater you bought at Christmas impacted the village economy when your lust (and mine) for cashmere caused farmers to give up other important agricultural activities, like growing food, in favor of such a profitable product. And, then, if we're really conscious, we should allow the goats to weigh in as well. Perhaps they would prefer to hang on to all that cozy fleece for themselves.

Part of ecological awareness is the knowledge that no act is isolated. But don't despair (at least, not yet). As I suggested earlier, an emerging "green" consciousness that began with alternative energy, building materials and agriculture has begun to blossom in textile and clothing production. You may already find yourself in possession of a set of fluffy sheets made with Modal and be asking yourself, "What the heck is Modal, again?" (Read on. All will be revealed.)

An Eco-Mindfulness-Vegan-Yoga consumer market is driving a demand for enviro-friendly clothing; that is, garments made from natural fibers that are plant based and biodegradable. And which leave a gentler footprint in their production and chemical finishing in comparison to cotton (even organic cotton), animal fibers or petroleum based textiles like acrylics and polyesters.

The new eco-fiber crops include soy (made from woven soy proteins), bamboo, reconstituted cellulose fiber (the finished product used to be called Rayon, but new production methods have brought us Tencel, Modal and Lyocell) and polymers created by fermented corn sugars (you may see it labeled as Ingeo until another trademark comes along).

Hemp is still trying to sneak across the border. Presumably, we don't produce it here in the U.S.* because the Drug Enforcement Agency believes we will be inclined to grow it along side its more recreational, chemically speaking, cannabis cousin. But hemp is showing up on its own in durable accessories like shoes and bags, and blended in garments with silk, cotton and wool.

And if all that sustainability isn't enough, I am compelled to introduce you to cruelty-free Organic Peace Silk. I was completely ignorant that silk production was non-organic before I came across an ad. I've seen silkworm sheds in Thailand, and the whole process seemed pretty agrarian. You got your silkworms; you got your mulberry leaves. Hatchling silkworms devote their short lives to eating mulberry leaves. Then they spin cocoons (made from a single, long protein fiber secreted from the silkworm's salivary glands and forced through an opening under the silkworm's lip) in which they pupate. A few are preserved to produce the next generation, but most of the cocoons are dunked into boiling water or baked to kill the insect inside. A single, intact cocoon unwinds in a continuous strand of about a thousand yards. Weave it, dye it, print some diagonal stripes on it, sew it up and ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom, you've got yourself a necktie.

But Peace Silk is produced without deliberately killing Bombyx mori (a moth in its caterpillar stage, actually, and not a worm at all) before it emerges. Left on its own, it will inhabit the cocoon for sixteen days, then secrete an alkali fluid that burns a hole through its cocoon allowing it to exit as an adult winged moth. Thus, the fiber is broken into tiny fragments and the long thread is forsaken in favor of the moth who goes on to have about a week to meet the love of its life, have moth sex, start a family and pass on to the Heavenly Cocoon.**

So, what does any of this mean to you, the consumer? Well, first off, it gives you many choices that you may have never considered before. Would you put Modal on your bed? Would you wear Modal on your head? How do you feel knowing that your cashmere scarf is creating food shortages or that all of the cotton in your home has left a heavy footprint? Do you feel more peaceful knowing that your purchasing decisions are extending the lives of moths by a week on the other side of the planet?

As the eco-fibers and organic fabrics make more of an inroad into your life and purchases, you will, inevitably, be bombarded with the sort of advertising that proclaims that buying anything BUT sustainable textiles is an ecologically irresponsible choice in direct opposition to the principles of right-action and Eastern-type Gaia mindfulness. In fact, the manufacturers of some of these garments will try and make you think you are, single handedly, saving the planet and humanity armed with just your sling-backs and a t-shirt.

Green Label Organic, for example, produces garments with pedigrees so pure that you are probably not good enough to purchase any. Their website claims that their t-shirts are made from organic, ring-spun (whatever that is) cotton "paired with provocative verbiage that promotes the importance of living a green and sustainable lifestyle" (example: "Green Power!").

According to their promo, Green Label supports fair trade and environmental protection, utilizes low-impact, water-based printing technologies, and all of their garments are made in the U.S. in "sweatshop-free environments" (which sounds akin to buying a car made in a "factory-free environment"). To purchase the shirt, you may have to crawl on your knees to the check-out counter and proclaim your faith.

And, by the by, Green Label Organic t-shirts start at around $50; Zooey's Organic Cotton T-shirts are $82; corn fiber tees from Moral Fervor begin at $80 and a soy camisole from Under the Canopy will put you back $118. Apparently, sustainability ain't cheap.

But don't go out and buy a new wardrobe just yet. Fiber technology is getting so innovative that through a science called "transformation optics", researchers are developing materials that manipulate light by bending the rays backwards, thus distorting whatever is underneath it and producing a cloak of invisibility. Which is moving this discussion onto a whole new abstract level of inquiry; is invisibility sustainable? Yes or no?

Myself, I don't really require a whole cloak, but a "cummerbund of invisibility" for that pesky midsection would be nice. And we'll need an invisible clutch to go with the invisible sling-backs.

* I understand that there is a governmental channel through which an American farmer can apply (and pay for) a permit to grow hemp, as many would-be hemp growers have done. However, although a permitting process is in place, no actual permit to grow hemp has ever been issued.

**. It takes about two-thousand six hundred silkworms to produce one pound of fine silk fiber. A fun fact to know and share.

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Ingrid is currently living and respectably employed in Austin, Texas with a firm specializing in environmental law. She hopes to get back home to the San Juan Islands next spring to stay.
While Ingrid is spiritually promiscuous, she credits her guru, Jimmy Buffet, for her mantra..."If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane." Besides a passion for Tiki Studies, Ingrid is borderline biblio-obsessive. She is an old-school Libran - i.e., she won't be leading the Revolution, but she'll work to make it an attractive affair and hire the musicians and caterers."

Her column appears every other Thursday in San Juan Islander. To contact Ingrid, send emails to ingrid@sanjuanislander.com

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