Annie pays ransom, the wedding is back on

This motely crew on their underwear: Reid’s made in Macau zebra striped thong provides just enough support and makes him feel like a real animal.

Janelle and Melissa like that “barely there” comfort they find in their made in Sri Lanka panties.

Annie enjoys the spaciousness and sexiness of her favorite made in Honduras underwear.

Judge’s Comments: Her wedding held hostage, Annie (holding granny panties) is forced to embarass her co-workers. One question: Should I be worried that Reid (the dude wearing zebra stripes) is wearing my fiances underwear, and that they fit?!

Made in Bangladesh: My Underwear

I came. I saw. I found my underwear…kind of.

The address I had for my underwear was not actually a factory, but a buying house. In Bangladesh, the factories don’t have marketing and sales staff so they rely on buying houses to link them with buyers.

The buying house that acted as the middle man with Briefly Stated, the company that bought my boxers, just happened to be Linmark, an international company that is one of the largest buying houses in all of Bangladesh. They work with the big boys: Wal-Mart, Target, Kohl’s, you name it. They also work with countless factories, and trying to determine which one made my underwear 10 years ago would be impossible considering that factories are often making t-shirts this week, underwear the next, and pants after that. Pushing the issue to locate the factory would also blow my cover, which Dalton had setup for me against my wishes (see the post below).

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And while we’re talking about my cover, allow me to introduce you to Kelsey Timmerman, Garment Buyer (KTGB):

KTGB is a writer in the USA who coined the term Touron (tourist + moron). Eventually, a cartoon of the same name was born and KTGB decided that it would be fun to sell some merchandise. He opened the Touron Attire store with Café Press an online print on demand service. KTGB never expected to sell anything to anyone other than family and friends, but last year he sold over 3,000 pieces and made around $7/shirt for a grand total of $21,000. It was never his intention to get into the t-shirt business. It happened by accident. Oops! KTGB hopes to double his profit/shirt by moving away from the pricey print-on-demand service and sourcing his products in Bangladesh. The reason he knows squat about the industry, and now wants to see the process from start to finish, is that with the print-on-demand service, all he had to do was design the product online and then cash the checks. Café press kept the stock, invoiced the customers, and did the shipping. Oh yeah, his customers have been demanding touron boxers, something like these Christmas boxers. Oh, you make sweaters, okay. Could you embroider them with this character? KTGB wants to get down to business…but can he see your factory first?

So that was my cover and I expected it worked because garment buying is about the only reason any foreigner comes to Bangladesh. That, and everyone thought I pooped US dollars and were eager to get their hands on a contact in the USA.

The only issue with my story was that I was pretty small-time. Most orders are on the magnitude of 10’s if not 100’s of thousands of pieces. But they would always be willing to do a small order first to establish a relationship. One place even quoted me 3,000 t-shirts at $2.60/shirt. After shipping my expense/shirt would be around $3. If I sold them for $17 I would double my profit/shirt.

The factories were nice: well-marked exits, well-lit, and well-ventilated. The factory wouldn’t be out of place in the USA. There was some minor fabric dust that accumulated in workers’ hair like cobwebs, but other than that, they seemed like decent places to work. The not so decent part is how much the people get paid – anywhere between $25 and $50 PER MONTH!

Sure, it’s cheaper to live in Bangladesh, but not that much cheaper. I met with workers, ate with them, took naps in their houses, I know that what they get paid isn’t enough.

But the situation isn’t as easy as saying the factories should pay them more. Yes, the owners are comparatively wealthy, but I suspect if they dispersed their wealth evenly among their employees, no one’s life would change that much. The owners feel the pinch too. Ten years ago they would have priced my shirt at over $5, double the price they quoted to me. Increased competition and arm-twisting by buyers have cut their profit/piece in half.

So who is responsible for the low wages the workers who make our underwear receive? No, seriously, I’m asking YOU. I don’t know.

Is it the Wal-Mart’s who demand the lower prices or is it the ultimate-consumer who sees a pair of “Jingle These” boxers in Wal-Mart and a similar pair in K-Mart for $2 less, which they ultimately purchase.

Economists refer to this international sourcing of products as the “Race to the Bottom.” Business will go wherever the price is the cheapest. So will the consumer. We are all on the race to the bottom.

The garment industry in Bangladesh did about $8 billion last year and is expected to double in the next 3 years. It is responsible for around 73% of Bangladeshi exports. If we decide that the workers aren’t paid well and we don’t buy products because they are made in Bangladesh and the industry collapses, what then? Millions won’t have jobs, including my friends from Fantasy Kingdom and Arifa.

This is the world we live in. It’s complex.

Who thought a pair of underwear could lead to so many questions?

Dalton

In what appears to be just another one of those things that isolates us Americans from the rest of the world, our cell phones are locked to work only in our country. Where the rest of the world can swap SIM cards in and out depending on what country they are in, we cannot. Why would we want to leave our country anyhow?

I arrived to Bangladesh with my locked Motorola phone. Good thing too, because I was referred to Dalton Zahir, the GM of the Motorola store in Dhaka. Dalton and I immediately clicked. He’s a writer, photojournalist, author, and businessman, although he doesn’t like to talk about that. Dalton took me to his home village where I played Kabaddi, to the textile factories where I saw underage kids working, introduced me to almost every journalist and writer in the entire country, and published my photo in a local newspaper.

When we weren’t meeting his family or friends, Dalton was sneaking me in places.

“Dalton, this time tell them the truth: I’m a journalist in search of the factory where my underwear was made.” I told Dalton countless times before meetings.

We would walk in, he’d say something to the party we were meeting in Bangla and the next think I knew I was a big garment buyer from the USA or a Motorola executive. I don’t lie. Not for moral reasons, but more because I’m lazy. I don’t want to take the time and effort to spin a story and to remember what I told this person or what I did there. I know that I would get caught up in my own web. I’m not clever enough. Dalton is.

“Kelsey, if you say you’re on business, people will be much nicer to you and show you much more.”

So, I was always on business. And anytime that I wasn’t sure what my business was, I let Dalton do the talking.

We would leave a meeting giggling about what he said or what I said. I didn’t feel right doing it, but it was kind of entertaining.

Besides his cleverness, Dalton is one hell of a guy. At the age of 19, before he worked for Motorola, he was put in charge of the construction of one of Dhaka’s fanciest hotel, the Lake Shore Hotel. You may not believe that someone would put a 19-year-old in charge of a multi-million dollar project, but you haven’t met Dalton. You haven’t been with him to the hotel where, now seven years later, everyone treats him with the utmost respect. You haven’t stood by his side as he talked with executives of hotels and multi-national corporations, or there when people approached him, “Your Dalton from the Lake Shore, right?”

The most impressive thing about Dalton is the conditions he overcame to get where he is. He lived in a small village, hours from any major city, was educated there, survived an ugly rickshaw accident, a midnight robbery on a river, and a broken family. He’ll be the first one to tell you that he isn’t a rich man, “I don’t own any land. My family relies on me to support them. I don’t have financial status, but I do have social status.”

I would have never guessed that my time in Bangladesh would be so rich with stories. I have hopes, and an agent that also hopes, all this Where Am I Wearing? experience will be a book. The thing I’m worried about now is that as chapters of my story, Cambodia and China will not be able to carry their weight compared to Bangladesh.

It’s a good problem to have. I have it thanks to Dalton.

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I helped Dalton setup a blog, Dalton’s World. He plans to post pictures ever week or so about life in Bangladesh. Although, his current post is all business - he’s soliciting ads. Dalton constantly looks for a way to get ahead and I suspect that’s why, in fact, he has gotten ahead.

Same Bangkok, New Perspective

6 years ago, Bangkok was my introduction to the developing world. I was half-way through an around-the-world trip in which I spent the first 3 months in Hawaii and Australia – not exactly roughing it.

At the time, my senses were overloaded:

Sight – everywhere people and chaos
Touch – running sweat
Smell – stinky, polluted air
Hearing – horns and tuk-tuks
Taste – dirt and exhaust
Spidey sense – tingling.

I arrived at 6 in the morning and I got the hell out of Bangkok as quickly as possible and tried to locate the most isolated beach I could find.

Now things are different. I’m coming from Bangladesh. Bangkok looks like a manicured, peaceful city with order and luxury. On the cab ride to my hotel I felt lonely, “Where’s all the people?”

In some sense, I know I will miss the crowds of people in Bangladesh. They were my security. And I was their celebrity. I walked around a little tonight and didn’t notice a single person staring at me. Tom Cruise no more, I guess I’ll have to get used to being just another touron.

I catch a flight to Phnom Penh tomorrow evening. I’ll spend the majority of my day tomorrow wrapping up my notes, posts, recordings, audio slideshows from Bangladesh. Expect to see a lot of activity here tomorrow.

Also, I’ve got some cool news for all of you geeks out there. I hope to share it some time this week. Stay tuned…

More Underwear Contest Goodness

Jen on her underwear: This is my favorite pair of undies, MADE IN JORDAN. How much do I love them? I have about 20 more just like them. Some might say I’m a little obsessive-but when you find underwear that are cute, comfortable, and don’t ride up, you buy out the store.

Judge’s Comments: Jen introduces us to the three C’s of underwear selection — Cute, Comfortable, and don’t ride up your Crack – and for that I think we all should be greatful. 20 pair of underwear!!! Right now I’m traveling with 4, although, I fear none of them are cute.

Contest Update

We’ll wrap up this competition the beginning of this week, so if you haven’t entered, you better do so Monday. And yes, Annie has contributed a photo which I’ll post soon. It’s a good one.

The wedding is back on, or at least until the next contest is launched. Speaking of which…

Anybody got any good ideas for a pants related contest?

Denzel Wears Boxers

Kent (aka Denzel) on his boxers: These Old Navy snowflake boxers have been by my backside through thick and thin. They’ve kept me warm on hikes in Ontario. They intuitively, as if by design, developed air vents in strategic places to help keep me cool on jungle treks through Thailand. They’ve treated me so well after years of loyal service that I’m thinking of taking them on trip to their native Cambodia to lay them to rest. I wonder if Bootsnall would sponsor that pilgrimage?

The judge’s comments: Many companies strictly adhere to the no-underwear-on computer-screen policy, but Kent understands that this contest and this blog are more important than the threat of losing his job. Also, triple word score for wearing Christmas boxers in July. Kent, I will be in Cambodia in 2 days, maybe I’ll pick you up a new pair.

It’s my wedding and I’m taking it hostage

You people are a bunch of prudes!

I give you a simple assignment in which all you have to do is take a photo of yourself holding up your underoos, and what do you do? Nothing!

3 people entered the contest, none of whom I will be marrying this September. That’s right, not even my own fiance was supportive enough to send a photo. And what am I going to do about it? I’m not going to come home, that’s what. You hear me Annie! If I don’t come home, no wedding, no showers, no cakes, no shiny rings.

I’m taking our wedding hostage and I’m not coming home until Annie sends me a photo, which I will post for all to see, of her wearing underwear on her head.

You want a wedding? Show me the undies!

UPDATE: Despite one of her co-workers advice, “You’ve got the ring and you’ve got the house. Who cares about the wedding?” Annie has come through in the clutch with a great photo, which I’ll reveal in the next couple of days. If you want, you can still give her crap in the comments section for not sending one sooner.

Bald or Muslim?

The Attack of the Granny Panties

The Quote of the week: “So, I hear you are interested in women’s panties.”

Said by Salehin, an owner of a buying house, after an obvious mistranslation in the phone chain of communication that brought me to his office.

As he said this, he magician-like presented a pair of seafoam granny panties from behind his desk. I almost died.

WAIW? Plugged

WhereamIwearing.com got mentioned on several cool sites recently:

TheCleanestLine.com (Patagonia’s blog)

So it costs $15 more to buy a Patagonia t-shirt. They are one of the few companies that think about their environmental and social impact. I blame (read: credit) them for planting the idea of this quest and I wrote them a letter thanking them. They posted the letter.

Jaunted.com the pop culture travel guide

They liked the socially conscience aspects of my quest. They posted an awesome photo of a clothing tag that reads:

DO NOT TUMBLE DRY
DO NOT SOAK WARM IRAN
FIRST WASH SEPARATLY
MADE IN CHINA