The Secret to Marathon Training
To learn about why I’m running the NYC marathon and how you can help visit https://whereamiwearing.com/…
To learn about why I’m running the NYC marathon and how you can help visit https://whereamiwearing.com/…
I heard about the documentary “Which way is home?” on NPR this morning. It follows kids leaving their homes in Central America and sneaking across borders on their way to the United States. Just another reminder of the desperation that exists in our world and the risks people will take to overcome it.
If it weren’t for China, my baby daughter, Harper, would be naked and wouldn’t have anything to play with.
When you have a baby girl, everyone wants to buy her clothes (especially when she is the cutest baby ever!). Somewhere between thanking the gifter and keeping the giftee from chewing on the wrapping paper, I sneak a peak at the made in label of the onesie or sleeper, the plastic ball or the toy puppy, the teenie dress or tiny skirt. The tag almost always reads “Made in China.”
Other than shoes (80% made in China), I’ve never seen a category of clothing so dominated by a single country than baby clothes. If China shutdown, we’d have a bunch of bored, half-naked babies crawling around our living rooms.
I’m always grateful that someone walked into a store, thought of my little girl, and dropped a few bucks on her, but I’ve never been too big on clothes as gifts. This is deeply rooted stuff. Who doesn’t remember shaking packages only to hear the swoosh of clothes and thinking, “That doesn’t sound like a He-Man action figure. Oh no, I think it’s clothes!”?
Now it’s even a bigger problem with me. I tell the gifter that they shouldn’t have and then they tell me that it was no problem. Besides, it was on the sale rack and they bought it for only $2. I think about the onesie’s journey from China across oceans and continents and marvel at the $2 price tag.
It makes my head spin. How is that possible? I can’t mail a T-shirt to my neighbor for $2.
Harper has about 200 outfits (this might be an exaggeration, but it’s most likely not) and most of them have been gifts and nearly all of them were made in China. I’ve come to accept it, until last week when I received a package from my buddy Larry.
I shook it. It sounded like clothes. I expected to find a cute outfit made in China, but I found so much more.
It was accompanied by a note:
Had a friend of mine design and knit this dress for Harper. The design is adapted from a dress she made for her daughter’s 2nd birthday.
- Larry
And another handwritten note from the dressmaker, Susan:
It’s been a pleasure creating this one-of-a-kind dress for Harper!
Susan even wrote out the washing instructions, because, really, who knows how to care for bamboo silk? Who even knew bamboo silk existed?
And she posted the dress on her site and named it after Harper. The dress is officially known as Harper’s Lollipop Tree Dress.
Forget the economics and politics of Harper’s Made in China wardrobe. What has been lost isn’t our connection with clothes, but with the people who make our clothes.
The note from Larry’s friend got me thinking. What if every item of clothing we wore came with such a note.
“Hope you like this Elmo shirt. I stitched the collar.” Signed Li Xin.
Maybe then we would pause before buying a garment, which has traveled tens of thousands of miles, for $2. Maybe then we would think about the workers who stitched our clothes and if it’s possible for them to feed and clothe their own kids while getting paid the tiniest fraction of a onesie.
To me Harper’s Lollipop dress is the most beautiful garment in her wardrobe. From the smile on her face, Harper agrees.
I am sick of looking at me.
I just scrolled through 600+ photos of me to select a few for my new Press Kit page. It was my first photo shoot since my high school senior pictures. Maybe I’ll print out these photos and on the back I’ll write you a personal note about how much fun we’ve had these last four years and how I know we’ll keep in touch because we are totally BFFs. Or maybe I’ll just select the goofiest photos and post them below.
Brian MacDonald of MacDonald Photography shot the 600 photos plus my new book trailer. I wonder if his finger hurt as much from snapping shots as my face hurt from smiling. We did have some fun doing it, as evidenced below, but in general I’m spent after 10 shots. After 10 shots when I try to look serious, I look like I have chromosomal-level problem; when I try to look happy, I look insane; when I try to look fierce…ah, hell, I never try to look fierce.
On occasion, I would have flashbacks of watching America’s Next Top Model with Annie and try smiling with my eyes instead of my mouth.
By the end of the shoot I was losing my mind, grasping for anything that would paint my face with a look other than “If I have to smile one more time I’ll pass out.” If Brian would have pulled out a squeaker, I would’ve slobbered all over myself with excitement. If you would have told me the world’s worst joke, I would’ve struck a pose. Instead, Dan (at left) from Rule29, the creative director of the shoot (think Tyra’s Miss Jay), cranked the music and made me dance.
But what good is humiliation if you can’t share it?
Got any strategies of how to be the subject of a succesfful shoot. Do you think of puppies? Do you smile with your eyes? Do you see with your mouth?
Would you pay $4,995 for Optimus Prime?
That’s how much he’s going for on ebay. This makes me happy because I own this action figure already. Sure, he isn’t in the box and he has swapped a little paint with the Deceptagons. But still, it’s about time the world realized the value of Transformers.
Even if my Optimus Prime were in mint condition and worth $5K, I would not sell him.
Transformers only aired for two years in the early 80’s. Their resurgence in popularity reflects my generations newfound buying power. 10 years ago OP probably went for a few hundred on ebay, but now you could go to the car dealer and buy a real car for what he costs.
What torks me off is that some dork actually bought some of the original Transformer toys and didn’t play with them:
“Wanna come to my house? I got Optimus Prime for my birthday.” And once at the house, “No…No, don’t touch him. He’ll be worth a lot of money in 25 years.”
That’s the kind of kid that needs the crap kicked out of him.
I bought OP with my own money. At the time I was earning $2 per week allowance. My main duty was dusting, an activity that was less about polishing wood surfaces and more about turning jewelry boxes into spaceships and measuring the growth of my fingers by sticking a few of them in Dad’s cavernous wedding band. I also mowed a lot. We basically had a grass farm that took a solid two hours to finish. I didn’t weigh much so when I hit a bump the automatic kill feature would shutoff the engine only to fire it back up when my butt landed.
I worked hard for OP and there are few toys or possessions of which I’ve been prouder to call my own. I played with him all of the time. Together we ransacked the Deceptagons couch fortress and regularly foiled Galvetron’s plans to take over Earth. How much is my Optimus Prime worth?
Way more than $5k.
Wired magazine has a pretty neat write-up on the cartoon and the toys. Apparently, the toys came first and the cartoon was a marketing idea. I don’t care. I still love OP and his loyal band of Autobots. Originally, they were made in Japan, but now, of course, like shoes, they are made in China.
Readers of “Where Am I Wearing?” will no doubt recognize this story about my visit to a blue jean factory in Cambodia. Of course, the book wasn’t accompanied with an over abundance of hand gestures. Enjoy!
And I complained about the hard plastic seats at my school that would stick to my legs in the summer time.
School is in on the island village of Kokata, Honduras (2005)
While there I taught the kids to play baseball.
I’ve heard about authors saying that releasing your book to the world is like becoming a new parent – all that excitement and anxiety.
Since my book and my first child were separated by little more than one month, I believe I have a unique perspective on this and I’m prepared to make the definitive statement on the matter:
Releasing a book is nothing like having your first child. I suspect, if I would have been the one doing the pushing, sweating, and contracting for 23 hours, I would be even more adamant about this, if not offended by the comparison.
Sure, I’m concerned about how my book is perceived by the world-at-large, but what little (I’m lucky) criticism the book has received has only made my skin thicker. My book doesn’t care whether it’s loved or not, it won’t get sick, it doesn’t need its diaper changed, it won’t poop on me, I don’t have to hold its hand while it gets shots, and then feel my heart ache as it cries. My book can take whatever life throws at it because I can take it.
Books don’t feel or love, authors do.
As an author you are putting yourself out there. You dedicate years of work into producing your book. If you didn’t temper your expectations, you might have put all your hopes in dreams into your book. Then you might find yourself foolishly saying, “Releasing a book to the world is like becoming a father/mother.” If so, first, get a life, and then get some perspective.
Our little baby Harper has laid my heart wide open. I’ve never felt more vulnerable, content, lucky, emotional, worried, and happy than I do now that she’s here. I guarantee you that Mark Twain who had four children and Charles Dickens who had ten, loved their kids more than any of their masterworks. I recently read Twain’s biography. He lost three children and I know he would have traded “Huckleberry Finn” or “Tom Sawyer” for just one more day with any of them.
Babies are easier to make than books, but once they arrive they demand much more attention and offer way more reward.
I’m proud of Where Am I Wearing? and I’m excited that quite a few teachers and professors will be introducing the book in their classes this Fall. I hope it will change some folk’s view of the world, but I’m realistic about what it can accomplish.
I’m saving all of my unrealistic expectations for Harper.
With talent like you’ll see in this video, how could a father not have great expectations?
Related: Read Adventure Dad on WorldHum
Bill Clinton has got it. And by it, of course I mean the Most Interesting Man in the World Syndrome.
Jon Stewart on the Daily Show:
The man hopped on a plane to North Korea, freed a couple of ladies, and got back in time to watch the season finale of So You Think You Can Dance! You know who he is…
He’s The Most Interesting Man in the World
And here’s the whole segment:
The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
William Jefferson Airplane | ||||
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Do you know where Lesotho is? I’ll be honest, I don’t.
I do know that it’s in Africa. I look it up on Google Maps every time I wear my favorite corduroy pants that were made there. But I just can’t seem to commit to memory where in Africa Lesotho is.
“Lesotho” doesn’t seem like a real name of a country to me, but more of an assassin’s name in the StarWars. Each time I try to remember where exactly Lesotho is, I start imagining what the assassin would look like: how far his eyes are apart; the type of laser gun he favors; and other such nonsense. I picture the assassin wearing my brown cords blasting princesses and Jedi into smithereens.
This is the way my mind works. It can’t be helped.
So, where is Lesotho, let me look…
I can’t believe I couldn’t remember this! Lesotho is in - and by “in” I mean completely surrounded by - South Africa. There can’t be many countries completely surrounded by one other country. Stick that in your back pocket and save it for Jeopardy. It’s my gift to you.
Speaking of back pockets, let’s get back to my cords. They were made in Lesotho for GAP. The Lesotho-GAP combo might sound familiar because they were recently in the news.
An investigation carried out by the London Sunday Times found that a factory that produces for Gap and Levi’s was dumping their garbage in the garbage dump.
That doesn’t seem like much of a story, does it?
But there are needles and scissors in the factory’s garbage, which are hard on the bare feet of the kids who scour the dump for anything of value.
Dumps in the developing world are awful, awful places where the poorest of the extremely poor try to make ends meet. I visited one in Cambodia and the physical anguish of trying not to vomit or cry while holding my nose was only outweighed by the mental anguish of what I was witnessing.
But what can we expect of the brands or the factories? Should the factories have a special repository for sharp objects?
Heck, I’ve thrown away a dull pair of scissors before and even razor blades. It’s just that nobody is walking across my garbage looking for something of value. Maybe the factories could use some kind of receptacles like doctors have for sharp objects. But I bet they would be dumped and picked through; a pair of scissors can be sharpened and sold.
So, I’m not really outraged by the factory using the garbage dump for their garbage. However, the fact that a river downstream of the factory runs denim…that’s kind of a big one.
From the article:
Dark blue effluent from the factory of Nien Hsing, a Taiwanese firm, was pouring into a river from which people draw water for cooking and bathing.
This news is a blemish on Lesotho’s garment industry, the largest private sector employer in the country, which has been considered a sort of success story and a hope for a brighter future. Bono’s clothing line, Edun, sources as much of their products as possible from Lesotho. In this powerful video, Bono pleads for other apparel brands to follow him in sourcing from the country.
Other brands did follow. And other factories sprouted. They brought the good - jobs . And they brought the bad - denim rivers.
Hopefully the pollution into the river from the factory making our GAP and Levi’s jeans can be halted. Hopefully Lesotho’s economy can grow so parents can get good paying jobs and their kids don’t have to work in the dump.
Development isn’t perfect and neither is the garment industry. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ask more of our brands and the factories they support.
At the end of the video, Bono is seen in a village in Lesotho carrying a crying baby. I’m up late writing this and, for a moment, I thought that it was my own baby girl Harper who is down for the night. The cry sounded exactly like hers.
If that’s not enough reason to do better and ask more, I’m not sure what is.
Kelsey Timmerman is the author of Where Am I Wearing? A Global Tour to the Countries, Factories, and People That Make Our Clothes. He believes that corduroys are nothing more than socially acceptable sweatpants. If you want to learn more about where you are wearing, participate on Twitter or email him at kelsey@travelin-light.com .