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HAPPY JULY!  Following a tradition I began several years ago, I’m once again encouraging women to declare their independence this July 4^th and abandon wearing high-heeled shoes. I’ve revised this post for 2024. My newly revised post follows:

I’ve long maintained that high heels are killers.  I never used that term
literally, of course.  I merely viewed high-heeled shoes as distinctly
uncomfortable and an outrageous concession to the dictates of fashion that can
lead to both pain and permanent damage to a woman’s body. Several years ago, however, high heels proved to be actual killers.  The Associated Press reported that two women, ages 18 and 23, were killed in
Riverside, California, as they struggled in high heels to get away from a train.  With their car stuck on the tracks, the women attempted to flee as the train approached.  A police spokesman later said, “It appears they
were in high heels and [had] a hard time getting away quickly.” 

During the past few years, largely dominated by the global pandemic, many women and
men adopted different ways to clothe themselves.  Sweatpants and other comfortable clothing became popular.  Many women also abandoned wearing high heels.  Staying close to home, wearing comfortable clothes, they saw
no need to push their feet into high heels.  Venues requiring professional clothes or footwear almost disappeared, and few women sought out venues requiring any sort of fancy clothes or footwear.  But when the pandemic began to loosen its grip, some women were tempted to return to their previous choice of footwear.  The prospect of a renaissance in high-heeled shoe-wearing was noted in publications like The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal.  According to the Times, some were seeking “the joy of dressing up…itching…to step up their style game in towering heels.”

Okay. I get it.  “Dressing up” may be your thing after a few years of relying on
sweatpants.  But “towering heels”?  They may look beautiful

BUT don’t do it!  Please take my advice and don’t return to wearing the kind
of shoes that will hobble you once again. Like the unfortunate young women in Riverside, I was sucked into wearing high heels when I was a teenager.  It was de rigueur for girls at my high school to seek out the trendy shoe stores on State Street in downtown Chicago and purchase whichever high-heeled offerings our wallets could
afford.  On my first visit, I was entranced by the three-inch-heeled numbers that pushed my toes into a too-narrow space and revealed them in what I thought was a highly provocative position.  Never mind that my feet were
encased in a vise-like grip.  Never mind that I walked unsteadily on the stilts beneath my soles.  And never mind that my whole body was pitched forward in an ungainly manner as I propelled myself around the store. 

But during one wearing of those heels, the pain became so great that I removed them
and walked in stocking feet the rest of my way home.  After that painful lesson, I abandoned
three-inch high-heeled shoes and resorted to wearing lower ones.  
Sure, I couldn’t flaunt my shapely legs quite as effectively, but I
nevertheless managed to secure ample male attention.  Instead of conforming
to the modern-day equivalent of Chinese foot-binding, I successfully and
happily fended off the back pain, foot pain, bunions, and corns that my
fashion-victim sisters often suffer in spades.

Until the pandemic changed our lives, I observed a troubling trend toward higher and higher heels.  I was baffled by women, especially young women, who bought
into the mindset that they had to follow the dictates of fashion and the need
to look “sexy” by wearing extremely high heels.  Watching TV, I’d see too
many women wearing stilettos that forced them into the ungainly walk I briefly
sported so long ago.  Women on late-night TV shows who were otherwise
smartly attired and often very smart (in the other sense of the word) wore
ridiculously high heels that forced them to greet their hosts with that same
ungainly walk.  Some appeared to be almost on the verge of toppling
over. Sadly, this phenomenon has reappeared. 

Otherwise enlightened women are once again appearing on TV wearing absurdly high heels.  Even one of my
favorite TV journalists, Stephanie Ruhle, has appeared on her “11^th Hour” program on MSNBC in stilettos. 
C’mon, Steph!  Don’t chip away at my respect for you.  Dump those stilettos!

What about the women, like me, who adopted lower-heeled shoes instead of following
fashion?  I think we’re much smarter and much less likely to fall on our
faces.  One very smart woman who’s still a fashion icon agreed with us
long ago: the late Hollywood film star Audrey Hepburn. Audrey dressed smartly,
in both senses of the word. I recently watched her 1963 smash film Charade for the
tenth or twelfth time. I once again noted how elegant she appeared in her
Givenchy wardrobe and her–yes–low heels. Audrey was well known for wearing
comfortable low heels in her private life as well as in her films.  In Charade, paired with
Cary Grant, another ultra-classy human being, she’s seen running up and down
countless stairs in Paris Metro stations, chased by Cary Grant not only on
those stairs but also through the streets of Paris. She couldn’t have possibly
done all that frantic running in high heels!

Foot-care professionals have soundly supported my view.   According to the
American Podiatric Medical Association, a heel that’s more than 2 or 3 inches
makes comfort just about impossible.  Why?  Because a 3-inch heel
creates seven times more stress than a 1-inch heel. A noted podiatrist and foot and ankle surgeon has explained that after 1.5 inches, the pressure increases on the ball of the foot and can lead to
“ball-of-the-foot numbness.” (Yikes!)  He advised against wearing
3-inch heels and pointed out that celebrities wear them for only a short time,
not all day.  To ensure a truly comfortable shoe, he added, no one should
go above a 1.5-inch heel. 

Before the pandemic, some encouraging changes were afoot.  Nordstrom, one of
America’s major shoe-sellers, began to promote lower-heeled styles. Although
stilettos hadn’t disappeared from the scene, they weren’t the only
choices.  I was encouraged because Nordstrom is a bellwether in the
fashion world, and its choices can influence shoe-seekers.  Then the
pandemic arrived and changed shoe-purchasing.  During the first year,
sales of high heels languished, “teetering on the edge of extinction,”
according to the Times.  But because the pandemic has now dissipated to a large extent, some women may have resurrected the high heels already in their closets.  They may even be inspired to buy
new ones.  I hope they don’t.

There is heartening news from bellwether Nordstrom.  In a recent catalog, two
pages featured nothing but sneakers.  Other pages displayed nothing but
flat-heeled shoes and “modern loafers.” Stilettos were nowhere to be seen.

Let’s not forget the Gen Z generation.  Most Gen Z shoppers don’t follow the
dictates of fashion. They largely eschew high heels, choosing pricey and often
glamorous sneakers instead–even with dressy prom dresses.

My own current faves: I wear black Skechers almost everywhere (I own more than one
pair). I occasionally choose my old standby, Reeboks, for serious walking. (In
my novel Red Diana, protagonist Karen Clark laces on her Reeboks for a lengthy jaunt, just as I do.)  I
recently bought a pair of Ryka sneakers–so far so good. And in warm weather, I
wear walking sandals, like those sold by Clarks, Teva, and Ecco.

Any women who are pondering buying high-heeled shoes should hesitate.  Beyond
the issue of comfort and damage to your feet, please remember that high heels
present a far more serious problem.  As the deaths in
Riverside demonstrate, women who wear high heels may be putting their lives
at risk.  When they need to flee a dangerous situation, high heels can
handicap their ability to escape. How many needless deaths have
resulted from hobbled feet? 

The Fourth of July is fast approaching.  As we celebrate the holiday this
year, I once again urge the women of America to declare their independence from high-heeled shoes. If
you’re thinking about returning to painful footwear, think again.  You’d be wise to reconsider.I urge you to bravely gather any high heels you’ve been clinging to and throw
those shoes away.  At the very least, keep them out of sight in the back
of your closet.  And don’t even think about buying new ones.  Shod
yourself instead in shoes that allow you to walk in comfort—and if need
be, to run. Your wretched appendages, yearning to be free, will be forever grateful.

 

I like to stay abreast of the news.  To get current info, I’ve purchased online subscriptions to newspapers like The Washington Post.

The Post is currently in a state of upheaval, reeling from revelations about editors and others who run the paper.  But it’s still churning out plenty of news stories.  I like to peruse the list of stories every day, choosing the ones I want to read and deleting the rest.

One of the things I don’t look for in the Post is advice on how to do household chores. I’ve never been much of a fanatic about housekeeping.  Probably a predictable reaction to my mother’s
obsession with it.  I do keep things clean, and I can usually track down what I need.  My sister, on the other hand, happily followed my mother’s path.  When she listed her house for sale, the listing described her place as “impeccably maintained.”  I couldn’t help joking that my house was, by contrast, “peccably maintained.”  (I don’t think that’s a real word.)

Noting the chaos going on behind the scenes at the Post, I was recently astounded to come across advice on “how to iron better and faster.”  A long column set out “ironing tips and tricks.”

My reaction?  I don’t iron!  I haven’t ironed anything in years.  Does anyone still iron?

After moving to San Francisco 19 years ago, leaving behind all sorts of things I used in my former home, I purchased a new steam iron at Macy’s.  My apartment has a built-in ironing board, and I guess I expected to use this iron someday. But I never have.  It languishes in its box, resting on a shelf, eagerly waiting to confront some wrinkled clothes.  The funny thing is that I never wear clothes that need ironing.

I can’t help remembering how my mother was addicted to an old-fashioned heavy non-steam iron she must have acquired in the 1950s.  When I finally made a little money in my newly-launched legal career, I gave her the gift of a brand-new steam iron purchased at the old Sears department store on State Street in downtown Chicago.  Incredibly, she forced me to return it!  To my amazement, she clearly preferred her long-established habit of wielding that heavy iron and watching all manner of
clothes turn wrinkle-free under her watch. 

I confess that in my long-ago past, I did iron a few items of clothing.  I specifically recall ironing
the white cotton blouses we all wore back then. But I happily left cotton blouses behind years ago.  When I worked as a lawyer, I sometimes wore silk blouses that needed special care, but I sent
those to a cleaners rather than tackle them myself.

Today my wardrobe is filled with very little besides t-shirts and jeans and black pants that don’t need ironing.  I can’t imagine standing in front of an ironing board handling a dangerously hot appliance that does nothing more than remove wrinkles. I view that as a tremendous waste of my time.

If you choose to wear clothes that need ironing, I certainly respect your choice.  You must prefer to wear
clothes very different from mine.  Maybe you’d like to read the advice by Post columnist Helen Carefoot.  In her column, she covers topics like “how to use the ironing board correctly.”  Good luck to you in that pursuit! 

Please forgive me if I don’t join you.  I choose to avoid that particular pursuit.  I’m quite fulfilled wearing my t-shirts and non-ironed pants while I take a hike outdoors, watch the latest must-see on TV, or sit in front of my desktop computer, happily typing away.

 

       

Are you a fan of Broadway musicals?  I cheerfully admit that I am. Thanks to my parents, I’ve been an enthusiastic fan since my early childhood.  I must have been only 5 or 6 when our family began heading to “summer stock” in the suburbs north of Chicago.  Where a shopping mall now sits, musical productions introduced me to the excitement of live performances combining music, lyrics, and dialogue.  The most memorable was a production of “Song of Norway,” a musical that opened on Broadway in 1944. It features songs with lyrics set to the haunting music of Edvard Grieg.  Those songs have stayed with me my whole life, and as a bonus, I became a great admirer of Grieg’s music.

My parents first introduced me to a genuine theater experience when we watched “South Pacific” at the Shubert Theater in downtown Chicago when I was only 9.  In the leading role of Nellie Forbush, starring Mary Martin on Broadway, was Janet Blair, an American actress and singer who played this part for three years in a touring production that popped up in venues all across the country.  Chicago was one of the first.  We bought the album and played the songs over and over.  Rodgers and Hammerstein won my heart right then and there.

Around the time I turned 12, while my family was still living in Chicago, my parents treated us to a production of “Oklahoma!” that I’ve never forgotten.  Guess who played Laurey?  Relative unknown Florence Henderson, later of TV fame, who was so good that I made a point of remembering her name. We also saw a memorable performance by the revered D’Oyly Carte Opera Company, featuring energetic Brits in Gilbert and Sullivan’s “H.M.S. Pinafore” and “Trial by Jury.”

When our family moved to LA, and my father died later that year, my attendance at musicals stopped short.  But after I returned to Chicago as a teenager, my fascination with Broadway shows revived. Touring companies kept coming to Chicago, and I discovered that I could either attend them with a paid ticket or attend free by becoming an usher. 

At that time, ushering was a very casual affair.  I could just show up, usually with a friend, and volunteer to usher.  I’d be directed to the woman in charge, who would always say “Yes” and find a spot for me somewhere in the theater, where I would check tickets and seat patrons before finding a seat for myself.  In this way I saw a lot of Broadway shows, both musical and purely dramatic, during the late 1950s and throughout the ‘60s. 

I could of course sometimes pay my own way with my babysitting earnings, and buying tickets became a gift sometimes bestowed by my mother.  In this way, I saw “West Side Story” on stage at the Erlanger Theater (later demolished to make way for the Daley Center), and, to use current parlance, I was blown away by its drama, music, and choreography.  I’d already attended quite a few Broadway shows by that time, but I’d never seen anything like it.

Other memorable musicals I saw during those years included “My Fair Lady,” “The Pajama Game,” “The Music Man,” and “The Most Happy Fella.”  Film actor Forrest Tucker was formidable as music man Professor Harold Hill in his touring production (it ran for 58 weeks at the Shubert Theater).  I bought the LP recordings of all of them and played them over and over on my small Webcor phonograph, trying to learn the lyrics.  (I saw many dramas during these years as well, but those aren’t within the scope of this post.)

During a brief visit to New York City in 1967, my mother and I saw an exciting performance of the original production of “Mame,” starring Angela Lansbury as Mame and Bea Arthur as Vera Charles.  I’ll never forget watching these two phenomenal women dancing together, arm in arm, while they sang “Bosom Buddies.”

Before I changed my life and moved to LA in 1970, I saw a few more Broadway hits in Chicago, including “Man of La Mancha,” “Fiddler on the Roof,” “Camelot,” “Hello, Dolly!” and “Bye Bye Birdie.”

I met and married my marvelous husband (I’ll call him Marv) in LA in 1971.  We shared a great deal, including a love of the theater. During the year we lived in LA, we saw a lot (including a play featuring screen-legend Henry Fonda as Abraham Lincoln).  Remarkable productions of Broadway musicals were, notably, “Company” with an exciting cast and “Knickerbocker Holiday” starring Burt Lancaster.  Lancaster, not known for his singing, wrote in his playbill blurb that he’d learned how to sing from his friend Frank Sinatra.  

Fast-forward 15 years. Marv and I saw countless plays and musicals while we lived in Ann Arbor, La Jolla, and Chicago.  (We also saw the original production of “Grease” during a brief stay in NYC in 1973. That’s a story for another day.)  

But I’ll zoom ahead to London in March 1986.  My sister had visited London shortly before Marv and I decided to travel there that March.  Although I didn’t always take my sister’s advice, this telephone call was different. She enthusiastically praised a new musical production in London called “Les Misérables.”  Based on the Victor Hugo novel, the story is set in 19^th-century France, where Jean Valjean is arrested for stealing a loaf of bread. It follows him after he’s released from prison and goes on to lead an admirable life while at the same time he’s relentlessly pursued by a ruthless police inspector, Javert. 

Sis had seen this new musical, and she couldn’t praise it enough. “I know it’s expensive,” she said, “but it’s worth it!”  Marv was earning peanuts as a math professor, I was “between [my poorly-paid part-time] jobs,” and when I checked, the tickets were $75 each, a real stretch for us.  But because of our love of the theater, and because we’d already seen many plays and musicals in London (beginning in 1972) and never been disappointed, we plunged ahead and ordered those pricey tickets.

You’ve probably guessed what happened next.  We witnessed the original production of “Les Misérables,” transplanted from a smaller theater to the enormous Palace Theatre because of its gigantic success.  Once we heard the very first notes of the overture, introducing the astounding performance we were about to watch, we were enthralled by the phenomenon that has become “Les Mis.”

We were especially enthralled by the astonishing performance of one man:  Colm Wilkinson, inhabiting the leading role of Jean Valjean. Wilkinson, a 42-year-old Irish tenor and actor, gained worldwide fame when he originated this powerful role, first in London and later in New York.  His rendering of the song “Bring Him Home” made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  I’d never heard a performance like his in any Broadway musical I’d seen. 

The entire production, including songs like “I Dreamed a Dream,” “On My Own,” and “Master of the House,” was memorable enough to last a lifetime, and it still thrills me today.  My love affair with “Les Mis” led me to see it twice more back in Chicago, taking my young daughters to witness it with me.

Fast-forward one more time:  San Francisco in 2023.  After moving to SF in 2005, I saw great Broadway hits like “Wicked,” ‘In the Heights,” “The Book of Mormon,” “Something Rotten!” and “Hamilton.”  My younger daughter (another theater-lover) and I joyously went to most of these together.  A year before the pandemic hit, my older daughter (M) asked me to join her to see “Cats” in San Jose in 2019.  Please don’t laugh.  It was incredibly good!  (It’s unfortunate that the ill-conceived film version has besmirched a great musical that, if done well, should be seen and heard live.) 

But the pandemic sadly put a halt to my attending live theater performances.

M has a love of “Les Mis” much like mine, and she knows the history embedded in it (she earned a summa cum laude in French literature and history at Harvard).  When a touring company announced that it would appear in San Francisco this year, M knew she wanted to see it again. 

Soon I was invited to join M, her husband, and her daughters at a performance in late July, and I jumped at the chance.  The pandemic had lessened its grip, and I promised my younger daughter I’d wear a mask throughout the performance.

So I was thrilled last month to see “Les Mis” for the fourth time, about two decades after the second time in Chicago.  The production was exciting, and all five of us loved it.  Midway through, I began thinking about the man who had inhabited the role of Jean Valjean in my first go-round and searched my memory for his name. “Colm,” was it?  During intermission, I glanced at my phone and searched for both Colm and “Les Misérables” in 1986, and I came up with it: Colm Wilkinson.

As we left the theater, I began to tell my family how I’d seen the original Jean Valjean in London, Colm Wilkinson, and just how wonderful he was.  As we approached our parking structure, a woman walking near me must have overheard and looked at me in disbelief.  Clearly a knowledgeable fan of “Les Mis,” she skeptically asked, “You saw Colm Wilkinson in London?”  “Yes,” I replied, nodding.  “My husband and I saw Colm Wilkinson in London in 1986.”  This woman (I’ll call her W) repeated, with emphasis, “You saw Colm Wilkinson in London in 1986?”  I nodded again.  Startled and amazed, W felt the need to say something.  She blurted out:  “Congratulations on your life!”  I smiled and nodded again, thanking her for her stunning turn of phrase.

I was indeed stunned by this phrase, one spoken by a complete stranger.  On reflection, I want to thank W for saying that I should be congratulated for my life.  In many ways, I have indeed had a remarkable life.  Watching Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean in London in 1986 constitutes just a tiny part of it.  It was an astounding performance, and I’ll always remember it.  I was extremely lucky to see him that night.  But all that Marv and I did was buy our tickets and sit in the audience, thrilled by his performance.

I honestly hope that the whole scope of my life—what I’ve done to effect positive change for our planet, to sponsor worthy political outcomes, to help people in need, to work for equal rights for all Americans, to be a good wife, mother, and grandmother–in short, to live the kind of life I’ve always tried to live–is what truly deserves, on balance, a small measure of congratulations. 

To begin, let’s define “cashmere.”

The 1985 edition of The American Heritage Dictionary states simply:

1. Fine, downy wool growing beneath the outer hair of the Cashmere goat.  2.  A soft fabric made of wool from the Cashmere goat or of similar fibers. [After Kashmir, a region in India.]

The Cashmere goat is described as a goat “native to the Himalayan regions of India and Tibet, and prized for its wool.”

We can probably find a lengthier, more recent, description in Wikipedia, but the old definition is just fine.

Now, let’s consider the disturbing role that cashmere sweaters played during my high school years.

I attended a Chicago public high school decades ago.  My school was filled with a wide variety of students stemming from a number of different ethnic groups. Some of my fellow students were aspirational and willing to work hard to achieve success both academically and socially.  In many ways it was an inspiring environment.  Unfortunately, however, a bunch of cliques held sway, dubbing each student “popular” or not.

I was generally viewed as one of the popular kids.  I was a member of the most desirable social clubs, I was elected to class office—twice–and I was chosen by Mrs. Keats to join the mixed chorus.  (Mrs. Keats admitted you to the mixed chorus only if you were either a great singer or you were a good-enough singer who was also popular. I fell into the latter group.)  So I was spared the worst treatment doled out by the cliques.

But it was an evil system, allowing the social clubs to blackball potential members and do countless other destructive things.

One of the most destructive focused on the clothes we wore. I have no knowledge of the boys’ clothing choices.  But I do remember that most of the girls were eager to acquire what they viewed as fashionable clothes. Often these were pricey, and not everyone could afford them.

Chief among the clothes in this category were cashmere sweaters and, frequently, matching woolen skirts. (Yes, girls were required to wear skirts to school in that benighted era, even when Chicago temperatures dipped below-zero during our frigid winters.  This was one more example of gender-inequity.) 

Emphasis on cashmere was particularly noticeable.  When gift packages were opened at birthday parties, the cry would go up:  “Cashmere!  Cashmere!”

After my father died when I was 12, my family of three lived on a modest income, no longer supported by the breadwinner my father had been.  I became quite frugal, choosing not to add to my mother’s budget problems.  But, ironically, because my mother’s family owned a women’s apparel store, I was able to wear clothes not terribly different from my friends’.  I simply had fewer of them. 

My mother, raised in her family’s retail business and now working part-time in their store, thought it was important to wear the right clothes for every occasion.  So I wasn’t completely shut out of the cashmere game, and I owned one or two cashmere sweaters. But what about the girls who couldn’t afford to buy them?

Once I began working and had my own disposable income, I sometimes added a new cashmere sweater to my wardrobe.  Truthfully, cashmere can be soft and warm, making it desirable in cold climates.  But I stopped buying new cashmere sweaters years ago.  Please read on….

Let’s look at the way cashmere is promoted.

In March 2023, I wondered just how cashmere sweaters are currently bought and sold.  Knowing what I do now (see below), I wouldn’t consider buying a new one for myself.  But cashmere sweaters are readily available.

Checking the website for one store in the mid-price-to-upscale category, Nordstrom, I discovered the following:

Hundreds of cashmere sweaters were listed on the website in a wide range of prices, beginning at about $100.  Among the highest prices I came across were a Balmain brand for $1,995 and a Loro Piana brand for $2,050.  Some of the sweaters had reduced prices as winter sweater-wearing weather wound down.

Nordstrom partially redeems itself by having a policy called “Sustainable Style,” in which at least 30% of an item is made up of “sustainably sourced” materials.  A few sweaters include “recycled cashmere.”  Without doing further research, I assume that the store is aware of the price we pay for luxury goods, not merely in dollars but also in the harm they can cause to the environment.  (Of course, “fast fashion,” which is generally cheap, is also harmful.  But that’s a story for another day.)

Patagonia is a high-quality retailer featuring outdoor clothing.  With a history of concern for the environment, it has recognized the harm inherent in cashmere and has stated the following on its website:  “We use recycled cashmere (blended with 5% virgin wool) because of its soft, lightweight warmth.”  The website says a lot more, which I’ve added below.

Now let’s consider something I’ve been hinting at:  The harm done to the environment by the production of cashmere.  I’ll hazard a guess that most of you are totally unaware of this harm.

In her 2019 book, inconspicuous consumption: the environmental impact you don’t know you have, Tatiana Schlossberg devotes a chapter to “the yarn that makes a desert.”  This chapter is a cleverly written discussion of the worldwide demand for cashmere, along with the destructive path the breeding of cashmere goats has caused.

Schlossberg focuses on Mongolia and its Gobi desert, where nomadic herders have been shepherding their cashmere goats for thousands of years.  These goats have “some of the world’s warmest, softest hair,” which “used to be considered a true luxury item.”  Unfortunately, the goats also damage the soil, harming the plants they eat and changing grassland to desert.  The result is, according to Schlossberg, that 90 percent of Mongolia is at risk of becoming desert unless management practices change.  Climate change plays a part, but “right now, the goats are directly implicated.”

Increasing demand for cashmere has driven down the price, so the herders breed more goats, and the supply of high-quality cashmere has shrunk.  “To be sure, there is still a lot of really expensive cashmere out there,” but there is notably a desire for cheap cashmere, particularly in the US.  Schlossberg makes clear that it’s not the fault of the consumer that some cashmere is now cheap, and “it’s not wrong to want nice things or to buy them, sometimes.”  But…”we can’t all have unlimited amounts of cashmere if we want to live in a world that isn’t spinning into a desert, in order to keep us swathed in cashmere at cheap prices because that’s what we’ve decided is important.” 

She adds:  “It’s all part of the same problem, and it’s not just cashmere.  It’s everything we wear and how we use it.”  [Please see my August 2022 blog post on the issues related to cotton, “Totin’ Cotton,” https://susanjustwrites.com/2022/08/18/totin-cotton/.%5D

Now let’s look at the Patagonia website, which confirms everything Schlossberg has written:

“In the 1960s and ’70s, cashmere was used as a luxury material for overcoats, suits and sweaters. As people became familiar with its soft, warm feel, demand for the material grew. Today, cashmere is widely used throughout the industry as a commodity fiber, which is leading to the overbreeding of cashmere goats, a decrease in fiber quality and the desertification of the Mongolian region where the vast majority of cashmere goats live.

“Patagonia uses high-quality recycled cashmere to buck this trend and reduce the environmental cost.  We started using recycled cashmere in 2017 after reviewing our supply chain and noticing an increase in the overgrazing of cashmere goats in Mongolia. Today, we collect pre-consumer scraps from European factories and send them to a sorting facility where they are meticulously sorted by color and then put in large machines that shred the fiber. We blend those fibers with 5% virgin wool to create a strong, undyed yarn that we use to make sweaters, beanies, scarves and gloves.”

Patagonia adds:  “Innovations like Cashpad—a mechanical recycling program for cashmere and wool textile waste—are helping us scale up the production of recycled cashmere. In coming seasons, we hope to incorporate it into more of our products.  Together, let’s prioritize purpose over profit and protect this wondrous planet, our only home.”

By the way, even Patagonia isn’t shy about asking high prices for its cashmere sweaters.  A women’s “recycled cashmere” cardigan is listed on its website at $269.

Some concluding thoughts

It’s heartening to learn that changes are happening in the retail world.  “Recycled cashmere” may begin to diminish the harm done by breeding cashmere goats simply to add to the world’s supply of cashmere sweaters.  “Consumerism”—the desire to acquire more and more things–still rides high in our world, but we appear to be moving towards more enlightened consumerism.

Looking back on my high-school years, I clearly see that our fixation on cashmere was all wrong.  We honored the wrong values.  Instead of clamoring for cashmere sweaters and other pricey material goods, we should have set other goals for ourselves.  I believed in the value of an excellent education, and I worked hard to get one, but I should have aspired to do more than that.  “To make the world a better place,” as the current phrase goes. 

I was aware of poverty in Chicago, and I was vaguely troubled by the unequal position of minorities in the city, but I never tried to achieve change.  It wasn’t until much later that I recognized the need to do so.  Instead, during high school I bought into the desire to wear cashmere sweaters.  Although I was not among the more affluent students–those who could afford countless luxuries–I never thought about those students who couldn’t afford any of them.  

Looking back, I regret that I had such a limited outlook on the world at that time.  I like to think that I’ve lived the rest of my life in a way that has tried “to make the world a better place.”

I’d like you to know about a prize-winning poem that inspires all of us to “make ourselves good.”  In short, it inspires us to make ourselves into the kind of people we strive to be—every single day, for as long as we can.

First, the poem:

Make Yourself Good

By Meredith Alexander Kunz

“Do not act as if you had ten thousand years to live.”

–       Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 4:17

Remember that this moment

Is all you have: 

Each flying second

Your personal eternity

To make with it 

What you can

On this earth. 

Each flash of consciousness 

Your own, your true possession,

The source of your power 

To choose, and choose well,

In this temporary existence.

Focus on this alone and stay true.

That’s what you need to remember

To concentrate on what must be done.

God or atoms? No difference. 

Each of us must make our own way.

And that inner daimon—

That guardian-spirit 

Inside you, inside us all,

Knows the path to virtue 

And the good. 

When we listen, 

We find happiness.

Some days, some years even,

We will be down and out, 

Dispossessed, beaten up

By the whims of the world,

Liable to gnash our teeth, 

Fill our brains with worry, 

Fear, desire, resentment.

But still: We hold the keys to mastery 

Of all that really matters.

It’s a lesson for the ages: 

“While you have life in you, 

While you can,

Make yourself good.”

Check yourself. 

Channel Marcus.

And if you’re veering off course into

Love of status, money, looks, things—

If you’re consumed 

By trepidation

Of what lies ahead, 

And dread of what

Surrounds you,

Stop—

And recall the philosopher-king 

to rule them all. 

He’ll set you right. 

And you’ll start the next day

Ready for the fight. 

Now for some background:

The poet, Meredith Alexander Kunz, is a writer and editor who has worked in journalism, higher education, and the technology industry.  Her writing has appeared in newspapers and magazines including Newsweek, The San Francisco Daily Journal, The Stanford Report, and The Industry Standard.

In 2013, she published Words That Carry Us, a collection of her poems.

A mother of two daughters, she created The Stoic Mom blog (www.thestoicmom.com) in 2016 to explore the many ways that caregivers and kids can benefit from practicing modern Stoic life philosophy. You can follow her blog on Substack at https://thestoicmom.substack.com. 

Meredith is also a contributing editor for The STOIC magazine and has shared her writing, talks, and interviews on the Stoicism Today blog, podcasts, NPR-affiliate radio, and conferences.  

—-

Meredith submitted her poem “Make Yourself Good” to the Odes to Marcus Aurelius international competition held by Modern Stoicism and The Aurelius Foundation to celebrate the Stoic emperor’s 1900th birthday.

The poem won second place in this international competition. 

Her goal: To get to the heart of Marcus’ Meditations, and what she hopes to keep in mind each and every day.

Her own audio recording of the poem is online on You Tube.  You can click on this YouTube video to hear her read her poem:  https://youtu.be/oLyBZLKyIa0 

In the 1976 film Network, a TV newscaster named Howard Beale announces on TV:  “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!”  He’s irate, angry with the state of the world, and he tells his viewers:  “I want you to get up and yell ‘I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore.’” 

I re-watched Network recently, and Howard Beale’s words have stuck with me.  Until now, I’ve written very little about politics, but the current state of things has pushed me to finally speak up.  Like Howard Beale, I’m mad as hell, and I don’t think I can take this anymore.

TWO KEY POINTS:

1.  THE OVERWHELMING IMPORTANCE OF VOTING

Much of our country is now in the grip of—or is moving toward–minority rule.  State legislatures like that in Texas have assumed minority control, and they are dictating their desires to the entire state, whether the majority agrees with them or not.  One example is their outrageous legislation banning a woman’s right to choose, a right that was until June enshrined in the rulings of the U.S. Supreme Court for nearly fifty years.

How can we escape this move toward minority rule?  Lawsuits have been filed, and activists have been clamoring for the U.S. Congress to act, to protect the rights of the majority and thereby protect democracy in our country.

While these lawsuits proceed in the courts, and while the GOP members of Congress sit on their hands, let’s focus on what WE CAN DO.  Every voter in this country must VOTE.  Nothing will change until the majority exercises its right to vote. We urgently need to energize voters to vote—even where voting is hard. Turnout is vital.

Many of us are enraged by the new restrictions placed on voters by the minority-dominated legislatures.  These restrictions, primarily directed toward voters of color, can also diminish the voting rights of older voters and the disabled. 

What can we do?  We can–and we must–encourage all of these voters to vote.  And we need to get them to the polls.  If that means that we need to organize a battalion of vehicles to transport them to the polls, then we should do that.  If that means that voters must deal with the unfair restrictions placed upon them by the new rules, then that’s exactly what they need to do.  Until the unfair rules change, they need to follow the rules.

It may not be easy for everyone to vote, but we need to emphasize how vital it is. Let’s tell voters:  Don’t go to the polls expecting short lines or people handing out bottles of water.  Be prepared for long lines of voters like you.  Bring water and food from home while you wait.  If you’ve been able to use a mail-in ballot in the past, don’t assume you can use it now without following whatever draconian rules have recently been enacted.

Why?  Because you need to follow the rules if you’re going to change anything.  Specifically, to change the people elected to the legislature and the other elected positions that are up for grabs.  Even if you’re in a gerrymandered district, go out and vote.  Lose a day’s pay if necessary.  Wear the most comfortable shoes in your closet.  Bring an umbrella if the forecast is for rain.  In short, do whatever you need to do to exercise your right to vote

The new Texas laws, passed by a legislature dominated by members who do not represent the majority of citizens in their state, make Texas the “poster state” for minority rule.  We need to keep Texas in mind when we encourage people to vote anywhere and everywhere.

I’m encouraged that many groups and individuals are taking steps to promote greater turnout.  Increasing enthusiasm and higher voter registration numbers, especially among women, are immensely encouraging signs.

•  MAKING SURE YOUR VOTE IS COUNTED

We have an even greater challenge:  Confronting those who advocate that we do not honor the outcomes of rightful elections.  These candidates and others will not commit to honoring the will of the voters.  Win or lose, they want to proclaim victory and remain in power forever, creating a one-party state.

We need to do whatever we can to clamp down on this alarming trend.

These “election deniers,” who have falsely claimed that the ex-president won the 2020 election, appear up and down November ballots throughout the U.S.  Many are contending for local and state offices, like the state offices that run elections–the secretaries of state–that are frequently ignored by the electorate.  They have the potential to wreck the orderly administration of elections throughout our country. 

I’m especially disturbed by these efforts to undermine local elections because I have relevant personal experience.  For decades, I worked as a fair and unbiased precinct worker, poll worker, and election judge, and I’m appalled by what’s happening in our country right now.

In 1975, I moved to Wilmette, a North Shore suburb of Chicago, with my husband and one-year-old child.  At first, I didn’t have a job as a lawyer or as a law school professor (both of which I’d previously done), and I had no other meaningful employment outside the home. Because I had a lifelong interest in politics, I immediately searched for ways to get involved in politics in Wilmette.

It turned out that Wilmette was embedded in a largely Republican part of Cook County.  Village officeholders were chosen in nonpartisan elections, but other officeholders, such as our member of Congress, faced highly competitive elections.

Wilmette was in New Trier Township, which covered much of the North Shore, and I came across the New Trier Democratic Organization, filled with energetic Democrats who hoped to get more Democrats elected locally, statewide, and nationwide.  I allied with NTDO, volunteering to work in my precinct to elect Democrats in the November 1976 election.  In the beginning, I went door-to-door to learn who was likely to vote for Democrats.  I would then mark up a publicly-available list of voters and give it to my precinct captain, helping to get Democratic-leaning voters to the polls on Election Day.  Soon I became a precinct captain myself.

Even after I was hired to teach at a downtown Chicago law school, I chose to work part-time only, primarily to spend time with my children but also to be able to pursue other interests.  My darling husband (always supportive of whatever pursuit I chose) was a university math professor who could work on his math at home and otherwise had a flexible academic schedule, and he would often assume responsibility for our children.

So I continued to devote time to volunteer efforts related to electoral politics.  I eventually worked my way up to sit on the NTDO executive committee.  (More about that—and our pivotal endorsements–another time.)  Although I generally supported Democratic candidates, I respected Republican candidates and officeholders and those who worked to support them.

Two of my favorite efforts were 1) serving as a poll worker, monitoring the proceedings at an election site on Election Day, and 2) serving as an election judge, working as one of the two parties’ judges, checking in voters and tallying up votes at the end of the day.

Politics in Wilmette remained highly competitive, but this competition never interfered with the orderly conduct of elections.  On the contrary, everyone worked smoothly together, and I always felt welcome wherever I worked.  Even in the most Republican-dominated part of town, I enjoyed sitting beside and chatting with Republican judges.  Those of us who represented both parties at the polls respected each other and got along remarkably well.

The contrast with electoral politics in 2022 is enormous and truly frightening.  If the election deniers take over running local and state elections, they will not respect their opponents.  They will not tally votes fairly.  They will attempt to work toward their goal of a one-party state.

If they win, what will politics be like for our children and grandchildren?  Will our democracy survive?  Or will tyranny triumph?

Please become aware of election deniers running for office in your community and work to defeat them.  The prospect of their running future elections is horrifying.

As Timothy Snyder has stated in his book, On Tyranny, if we are to avoid tyranny, we must tell everyone:  “Believe in truth.  To abandon facts is to abandon freedom.” 

We must “defend our institutions” and do all we can to “beware the one-party state.” 

Finally, Snyder has challenged all of us:  Be as courageous as you can.  If none of us is prepared to die for freedom, then all of us will die under tyranny.

This is why I want you to get mad.  This November, voting is more important than ever before.  We need to get out there and vote.  To help others to vote.  And when we vote, we need to oppose those who would undermine our freedom.  Our democracy hangs in the balance.

This may sound silly.  But The New York Times recently focused on a problem you’ve probably never thought about:  “the cotton tote crisis.”

What?  How can cotton tote bags create a crisis?

The Times described a woman who decided to count all of the free cotton tote bags she’d accumulated in her closet.  They totaled 25.  She complained that they’d been foisted on her at a variety of stores and hotels:  “You get them without choosing.”

This woman’s complaint is preposterous.  No one is compelled to accept a cotton or any other kind of tote bag.  When I’m doing errands, like shopping for groceries or other items, I bring along tote bags I already own.  I’ll sometimes take an empty backpack and fill that up with groceries, books, or the like.

But I do admit that I like tote bags and have acquired a lot of them.  Counting them seems absurd, but I’ll bet I have at least 25.  I especially like those that promote my public library, art museums, reading, and causes I support, like the environment.  My favorites at the moment?  One from the Save-the-Redwoods League, another from the California State Parks Foundation, both sent to me in return for a small donation.

But the question remains:  Is there really a crisis?

It turns out that there is a crisis.  But it’s a crisis that goes far beyond one’s possession of a heap of tote bags.  The crisis arises out of possessing everything that’s made of cotton.

Why?  Because cotton is itself an environmental hazard.  First, growing cotton takes up a lot of land, and it has “a big carbon footprint.”  As Tatiana Schlossberg has explained, producing the world’s cotton supply for use in textiles results in over 100 million tons of carbon dioxide emissions every year.  It also uses a lot of chemicals like insecticides and fertilizers.  But according to Schlossberg, the biggest problem with growing cotton is how much water it uses. [Schlossberg’s 2019 book, Inconspicuous Consumption: the environmental impact you don’t know you have, is worth reading.]

The media are currently full of stories about the increasing worldwide shortage of water.  Global water supplies are seriously stressed.  Drought in the western United States is notably causing huge problems, leading to harsh restrictions on water usage that will probably hit residents who’ve blown off the warnings for years.  Farmers will bear most of the impact, causing predicted shortages in our food supply.

The story in the Times backs up these conclusions.  It notes the many problems with cotton, quoting a University of Maine professor that cotton is “so water-intensive.”   Others state that another serious issue, forced labor, is involved in the production of cotton.

As for tote bags, according to the Times, a Danish study concluded in 2018 that an organic cotton tote needs to be used 20,000 times “to offset its overall impact of production.”  I’m not quite sure how that figure was arrived at, but, okay, let’s agree that we don’t need all of the cotton tote bags that are currently produced.  Stores use them as “mobile billboards,” possibly helping them boost their sales. Charities use tote bags to promote their more virtuous goals.  But cutting back in either case is probably a good idea.

Think about alternatives.  The string bags popular in Europe might be adequate for your needs.  If you’re handy with needle and thread, try cutting up old clothes and sewing them into colorful tote bags. Keep using the bags you already have.  But don’t forget: Plastic bags are far worse for the environment and should never be considered a desirable option.

At the same time, we don’t need a lot of the fashion items that use cotton.  That inexpensive dress from H&M? That sharp cotton shirt from Macy’s?  Another pair of Levi’s? Yes, these may look great, but I’ll bet that your closet’s already full.  Let’s not buy any more than we need.

Can we substitute other textiles for cotton? Suggestions abound.  Recycled cotton may be an alternative.  Hemp is another.  Recycled plastic water bottles?  Yes!

The real goal here:  Reducing the production and sale of unnecessary items made of cotton. Clothes, of course. Tote bags, too.

Please keep this question in mind:  How many pairs of jeans do you really need?  Think about it.  The same answer ought to apply to tote bags, cotton and otherwise.

In the midst of the doom and gloom surrounding us on a daily basis, I offer some news that may brighten your outlook.

There are certainly more consequential things to write about.  But let’s think about something else for a change: the pivotal role of grandmothers in the animal world. 

Yes, grandmothers.

In a recent issue of National Wildlife, published by the National Wildlife Federation, writer Mark Wexler highlights the role of giraffe grandmothers.

I’ve always viewed giraffes as the most graceful and charming of animals.  I’ve probably been swayed by photos of giraffes bending their long necks towards and around each other. But according to Wexler, until two decades ago, giraffes were believed to be basically aloof and lacking any social structure. 

Guess again.  Biologists at the University of Bristol have reviewed over 400 scientific studies of giraffe behavior and reached a very different conclusion.

It turns out that graceful, elegant, apparently aloof giraffes have highly complex social systems.  Most notably, these often include small groups led by older females, who spend as much as 30 percent of their lives after their reproductive years.

The biologists suggest that giraffes fit the “grandmother hypothesis,” the idea that females in certain species survive beyond their reproductive years so they can help raise later generations of their offspring. 

It now appears that giraffe grandmothers play an important role in raising young giraffes.

Biologists have previously noted this behavior in only a few other mammals.  Which ones?  Orcas, elephants, and–of course–humans.

The behavior of older female orcas is highlighted in a new CNN series about Patagonia.  Colorful footage reveals orca grannies teaching baby orcas how to survive in the treacherous waters along Patagonia’s Atlantic coast.  Others have noted this kind of behavior among elephants.  And I hope we’re all aware of the vital role played by human grandmothers.

The lead author of the British study, Zoe Muller, is baffled that giraffes, “such a…charismatic…species,” have been “under-studied for so long.”  She believes that we can use this newly-revealed understanding of giraffe behavior to bolster the population of giraffes in the wild. 

Apparently, giraffe population has been in decline for many years—by 40 percent since 1985.  But now that we have a better understanding of how this species behaves, Muller believes that conservation measures may be more successful.

I’m hoping that the active role pursued by these grandmothers will help our beautiful co-inhabitants of planet earth survive in greater numbers.  I’d hate to see giraffes disappear from our planet, wouldn’t you?

So let’s celebrate giraffe grandmothers.  And let’s hope that the worldwide population of giraffes will increase rather than decline. 

Our own grandchildren will be the happy beneficiaries.