Archives for category: See Green

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I am currently experiencing the worst thrift store jones of my life. I’ve been here for 10 months and I have the shakes bad.

My mom called it junkin’. She dragged me through thrift stores my entire childhood and I became an addict. She would find me the coolest stuff. The vintage 60s Barbie lunchbox she got me when I was in 2nd grade was to die for; wish I still had it. I guess it started in the 50s, when her grandmother used to take her along on early morning walks through the alleys of West LA to go digging through her neighbors’ discard piles (OK, trash).

Most of my friends tell me they don’t have the patience for it, or the knack. I, on the other hand, abhor retail shopping. There’s just no romance in walking up to a rack of 50 identical shirts. Sure, I go thrift shopping to find funky clothes and treasures, but I get a lot more out of it than that. I paid a buck for my favorite black leather belt (wide, 70s), which I bought at a San Diego thrift shop 19 years ago (and it’s still in great shape). The end of it has dog teeth marks. I love that my belt has a dog tug-of-war story!

Aside. Now, I know this is a girl thing. If you’re a guy and you’ve even made it this far, your eyes are probably glazing over. If you’re a woman or if you’ve ever had a girlfriend, you know women can tell you exactly what they were wearing on a certain day at a certain event. That’s because what we wear is an extension of our personalities as well as an indicator of our moods, the message we want to send, or the level of our self-confidence on a given day. Our clothes and jewelry often have very strong emotional associations. (I won’t go into why this is, how awful it is that we’re victims of marketing and societal this and that, whether it’s good or bad. Another day. For purposes of this entry, it just is.)

So when I’m surfing the racks and shelves, I can’t help but ponder the sociological implications of the kinds of things people donate and what they buy in the first place. The associated experiences and emotions. The history. I sometimes imagine the mindset of a woman when she bought something and when she wore it, and I draw conclusions about who she was. I know for a fact that women shop when they’re in weird moods, which guarantees that they’ll buy fun clothes that they’ll just end up donating, never having worked up the courage to wear them. I count on that. A girl who’s barely courageous enough to deviate from beige will walk into a store and, inexplicably, the only clothes that look good to her that day are red. Or she’ll just be feeling sassy and convince herself that she’ll actually wear that halter top sundress with the giant pink hibiscus print when it gets warm enough. Or she’ll read in Vogue that orange is the new pink and come home with an orange miniskirt and go-go boots, determined to reinvent herself. Women shop mad, they shop sad (their judgment is frequently impaired when they’re doing therapeutic shopping). They lose weight or tell themselves they will. They get divorced and replace their entire wardrobes (check). The results of their inexplicable shopping urges and closet purges are destined for the thrift store.

I relive eras, too. It seems like everybody gets rid of their outdated stuff at the same time. In the early 80s, for the longest time, there was a major owl infestation in thrift stores; everything owl, from incense burners to the macrame wall hangings with the requisite stick of driftwood (remember the early 70s?). We had one. For a while, in the 90s, there was a glut of turquoise (and salmon) howling coyotes (and saguaro cactuses) after everybody got over that horrific, vapid “southwest” look of the 80s. (Bleckh.) Junking offers a truly unique glimpse into other people’s lives as well as insight into our culture in general. It’s so much more than shopping; for me it’s a rich form of entertainment.

Of course, then ebay came along. Now it’s nearly impossible to find cool jewelry and knickknacks in the thrift stores since people have caught on. So I go to ebay for such things. It’s fun and efficient, but doing a keyword search for “poodle” in the jewelry category isn’t nearly as magical as discovering a tarnished sterling poodle face peeking out from among discarded VFW pins and mardi gras beads…

So here I am in Paris with not a Goodwill in sight. Who in her right mind could live in Paris and bemoan the lack of second-hand stores? Well, nobody said I was in my right mind. Alas, the French just do not seem to get the “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” concept. Either that or the rent is just too high for such establishments.

The other day I went to the only thrift store I’ve found in Paris, run by a huge Catholic charity, which might explain why they can afford the rent (Emmaus Boutique: 22, bd Beaumarchais). It was lamentable. Tiny place with drab, crap clothes and stuff for old ladies. [Addendum: I went back (you knew I would) and I actually found a couple of cute tops. This place will do in a pinch. Which I'm in...] A couple of weeks ago, I did discover a vintage shop next door to L’As du Falafel (34, rue des Rosiers), the most popular falafel place in the Marais. Saw a powder blue suede miniskirt (70s) there for only 5 euros, but I was late for a lunch date and had to run. I’m going back this week when I have some time. And when it gets truly unbearable (sometime between right this instant and when I go to LA in July), I’ll be checking out Come On Eileen (Thank you PetiteBrigitte!).

If there’s anyone out there who can tell me where I can go to find second-hand or vintage shops in Paris, please tell me. You can die from withdrawal, you know!

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Made you look. (But why did you look?)

I send mass e-mails to friends every now and then with Good deed of the day in the subject line. The good deeds are usually things I’ve blogged about in my Bite-sized Activism category. Things that even people who are really, really busy getting their cars and legs waxed should be able to squeeze into their schedules. The e-mails are rarely acknowledged.

Maybe these people think I’m a pain in the ass (or, as Vincent suggested the other day, maybe my friends just think I’m “an entertaining oddity”). But the thing is, nothing feels as good as doing something good for someone who needs help. Nothing is more enriching.

It’s easy to get overwhelmed these days, with the machine falling apart at the seams. When I send these e-mails, when I bother to collect easy activism options in a category on my blog, I figure I’m doing people a favor. I’m giving them something that will make them feel good (if they do it…).

I read an article called Four things you should do right now on HuffPo today. One of them was perfect for Bite-sized Activism.

Working Assets is a company that has been around for over 20 years. They offer cell phone services, long distance services, and credit cards. A chunk of the money you pay them goes to a number of nonprofit organizations working for peace, human rights, the environment, education, freedom of speech, social justice, and all kinds of good stuff. It comes out of their pockets, not yours.

Here’s their mission statement:

Working Assets was established in 1985 to help busy people make a difference in the world through everyday activities like talking on the phone. Every time a customer uses one of Working Assets’ donation-linked services (Long Distance, Wireless and Credit Card), the company donates a portion of the charges to nonprofit groups working to build a world that is more just, humane, and environmentally sustainable. To date, over $50 million has been raised for progressive causes.

The company also serves as a strong political force, dedicated to giving its customers the opportunity to speak out on critical public issues through its Web site and monthly phone bill.

How hard is it, really, to switch cell phone companies? Long-distance services? To transfer a balance to a new credit card? We’ve all done it. So you have to go online and make a few changes to things like your Amazon profile. Big deal. In the last two and a half years I transferred a credit card balance, moved three times, and changed my name. Trust me, I know exactly what’s involved. It’s doable.

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Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious.*

One day the little red chicken was scratching around in the dirt and an acorn fell on her head. She got the distinct impression that the sky was falling but, being a chicken, she continued to do her usual dirt-scratching thing and, wonder of wonders, she came across a grain of hope. She started squawking about the falling sky to anybody who’d listen (and even those who wouldn’t). She began frantically sending e-mails and posting blog entries to try to reach the king’s court (the king himself being non compos and not particularly receptive). She asked all the other farm animals, especially the ostriches, to help her plant her grain of hope, grow it, reap it, and turn it into something good they all could share.

“Not I,” said the duck.

Fuck the duck. Check out CODEPINK, a women’s peace movement (boys can play too). They’ve organized the Occupation Project, a campaign of sustained nonviolent civil disobedience to end war funding. Or see the elegantly simple global warming protest that Step It Up has organized for April 14th.

I’ve collected more protest options for Americans on the go at Bite-sized Activism.

And I sent an e-mail to the Speaker of the House yesterday. Did you?

*Orwell, 1984

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Americans like to have the facts. One of the things I’ve missed here in France is the good old nutrition label. I was very fond of that label. I know, I’m a freak. Here in France, food packaging seems to display whatever information will fit on the package and/or whatever the manufacturer feels like revealing. (OK, Vincent just told me thay have to put the ingredients on the package.) There are these addictive coconut cookies called congolais. Insanely good. I know there must be about 947 grams of fat in each one. But the label tells me absolutely nothing about their “nutritional value,” so I’ve been in blissful denial, enabled by the cookie maker, and scarfing ‘em constantly since I got here.

The other day, I saw something that got me thinking. A Swiss magazine about consumer issues called Bon à Savoir did a little research in collaboration with a TV show called On en parle. They investigated how far some major grocery chains go to get a number of common produce items. Their goal was to calculate the effect on the atmosphere of shipping produce from its place of origin to store shelves. What they found out was quite disturbing. I may never eat my favorite fruit again… Getting about two pounds of kiwis from New Zealand to Switzerland dumps about ten pounds of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere.

Now, I know most of you can’t read this table. It says “20,000 to 50,000 kilometers to fill the same basket.” The list is far from exhaustive, of course. But let’s just say that if I want to be really green, I’ll be eating a lot of cauliflower, squash, endives, flat parsley, and thyme. Actually, that’s pretty much what I do eat…
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Seriously, though, what can we do with this kind of information? We always knew our bananas got here on boats, but I doubt many people ever really gave it much thought. It was in elementary school that we first learned about things like that. That was the way the world worked. In the context of our imminent environmental apocalypse, however, we do need to think about it. (When was the last time you saw Soylent Green? Remember the dinner scene where Charlton gave Edward G. that limp lettuce leaf, which practically brought him to tears? C’mon, watch it again. It’s too good.)

I’m from southern California, where produce sections look like botanical gardens all year ’round. I always figured most of the fresh veggies I bought came from somewhere in the state, given the climate and the fact that it’s the top-producing agricultural state. A couple of years before I left Merka for la belle France, I had started to notice that sometimes signs in the produce section mentioned where the stuff came from (in teensy weensy print). Sometimes it’s printed on the little stickers.

What I’m getting at is that now I really want all the facts. I want to know the carbon footprint of that tangerine. If there are laws about displaying nutritional content, about what you can and can’t call “low fat,” if grocery stores can tell you the cost per ounce of everything so you can see you get a better deal buying the 28-ounce can than the 15, why shouldn’t we be told how many miles our lettuce had to travel to get there so we can make an informed decision about whether to buy it or not? Some of us very green-leaning types would actually use that information and act on it. Most Americans wouldn’t, of course. At this point. But you can bet your kids and grandkids will. They’ll have to. Or maybe they won’t; they might not even have the choice when they grow up…

I think this calls for a little legislation. I want laws requiring full disclosure about the origins of my food. Not just the produce, but also the stuff in cans, boxes, and bags. I think I’ll suggest it to the people who supposedly represent me in government. I won’t benefit from it here in France, of course, but I won’t be surprised if the EU institutes some such law long before the American government even entertains the idea.

In the meantime, take a moment or two to reflect the next time you’re squeezing kiwis… And as for those coconut cookies… I don’t think there are any coconut palms in France. Guess I oughtta ease up on the congolais consumption. Just as well.

Merci à TechBee pour l’article !

I don’t know who to give credit to for the incredible meatface picture, but I found it in Google images, which led me here.

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Did you know that the largest single demonstration in the US about climate change consisted of about 1,000 people? That is one thousand. Not a typo.

Pathetic.

Bill McKibben and some pals have started a movement they’re calling Step It Up. Or, rather, they’d like to start a movement. And you can help. They have a brilliant idea that epitomizes bite-sized activism. I hate to use a hackneyed phrase, but this is truly elegant in its simplicity.

You don’t have to march on Washington. In fact, you don’t have to march anywhere. This is all you have to do:

1. On April 14th, gather some friends, as many as you can, anywhere.

2. Make a banner (or get one from Step It Up) that tells Congress you want them to cut carbon emissions by 80% by 2050.

3. Have somebody take a digital picture of the whole crowd. Like this (this group chose the Golden Gate bridge as a backdrop):
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4. Send your picture to Step It Up. They’ll create an online collage of all the demonstrations that took place all over the country to show Congress how many people are deeply concerned about global warming.

Could it get any easier than that?

Most of my friends live in San Diego, and I left (part of) my heart there when I moved to Paris. One of the city’s most cherished landmarks is the Hotel del Coronado (where they filmed one of my favorite movies of all time, Some Like it Hot).

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Friends, that beautiful historical building will just be plain old history if the ice caps melt. And before I came here, I lived in Ocean Beach, a hippy-dippy beach community where time stopped decades ago. My beloved OB will be underwater too.

Please “march” down to the beach on April 14th with all your fellow citizens, throw a save-the-beach party, and take a picture.

Go to Step It Up and sign up as an organizer. They’ll tell you how to get your picture to them. If you don’t want to organize a demonstration, they’ll tell you how to join one near you.

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I just have to talk about this. Al Gore and the producers of An Inconvenient Truth decided they would donate 50,000 copies of the movie to schools so that it could be shown in science classes. They made this generous offer to the National Science Teachers Association.

The NSTA said no thank you. Why? Because Exxon Mobil has given the NSTA over 6 million dollars in recent years.

Now, I’m fairly sure this was a calculated move on the part of Al and Co. They could have chosen to go through school districts, boards, state government bodies, or any number of channels to distribute their gift. I have a feeling they knew damn well the NSTA was getting dirty money from oil companies and they wanted to out them. I say good for them. It worked.

Now the big oil donors are erasing the paper trail on this story, which broke a few weeks ago…

If you have kids in school or friends and relatives who do, please contact their science teachers and ask others to do so too. Ask the teachers if they belong to the NSTA. Encourage them to speak up and get involved. Contact the school principals, boards, departments of education and encourage them to go straight to the source and obtain one of those free copies. Write some letters. Time to misbehave again.

It’s the responsibility of government, not special interests, to pay for public education. If our government had its priorities right and allocated more of our tax money to education, maybe our teachers wouldn’t be in a position to have to compromise their principles and take money from special interests. And aren’t there laws that are supposed to prevent special interests from influencing school curricula? There should be.

So is it OK that our kids are being taught in science classes that Adam and Eve are real and global warming isn’t? At what point do people say enough is enough?

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That was Coca Cola’s 2005 holiday season ad campaign slogan. When the Coke-chugging polar bears showed up in 1993, I thought they were a little creepy. Still do. But evidently, they’re one of the most popular symbols in Coke’s 120-year history.

It’s a good thing they have Coke because the rest of their food supply is disappearing thanks to global warming. They’re about to be put on the endangered species list too. That is, if the Bush administration will do it. It means acknowledging that global warming is real. They might not go that far!

This is just to let you know I’m giving gift memberships to Conservation International to friends and family for Christmas (I mentioned it a few weeks ago). Click the pic below to make a donation!
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If you’re at a loss for what to get people for Christmas, GIVE a gift in their name to an environmental organization so the polar bears will LIVE because we all LOVE polar bears. That way you can have a COKE and a smile and a clear conscience.