Thomas:
I thought I would immediately judge this as bad, given my predeliction
towards simplicty. However, as I read it through, I found myself with
conflicting pro's and con's. On the one hand, it is a classical example of
Reagan's trickle down theory, in that somewhere down the line of excessive
consumption, the poor actually benefit by having access to clothes that they
could never afford. And if there was not this surplus, those lives would be
more difficult and impoverished.
On the other hand, one must question a system of production, advertising,
distribution that is obviously so wasteful. At some level, my mind is
stunned by these images the article described, even though I use second hand
clothes. The only other image I can think of that has impacted me so
strongly is waste disposal. In which pictures of barges filled with garbage
are towed out to sea and dumped or semi trailers are taking garbage from New
York to Virgina and filling massive landfills.
In a recent book I was reading, there were graphic depictions of animal
farms in Georgia and North Carolina in which animals are raised by the
thousands and effluent ponds are so large and smelly that whole counties
literally reek from the smell.
In the concept of markets, being the best mechanism for supplying goods and
services, one wonders were we leave the sane and responsible and enter into
the netherlands of excessive and destructive. If this is happening in 1999,
one has to ask what the situation might be like in 2030 or 2100?
At some point there must be a place where intelligent planning is more
effective than market forces. The question is; "How do we get from here to
there?"
Respectfully,
Thomas Lunde
----------
>From: "Cordell, Arthur: DPP" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
>To: Futurework <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
>Subject: used clothes
>Date: Thu, Jul 22, 1999, 2:50 PM
>
> I am forwarding this piece from the NY Times. It says something about our
> economy and maybe globalization, but I am puzzled whether its 'good' or
> 'bad' or 'both'.
>
> arthur cordell
>
> =====================================
>
>
> Monday, July 19, 1999
>
>
> Prosperity Builds Mounds of Cast-Off Clothes
>
> The New York Times
>
> Publication Date: Monday July 19, 1999
> National Desk; Section A; Page 1, Column 1
>
>
> PROVIDENCE, R.I. -- Hour by hour, cars and trucks back up to the
> Salvation Army's warehouse loading dock on the edge of the prosperous East
> Side here and disgorge clothing. Skirts and parkas, neckties and tank tops,
> sweat pants and socks, a polychromatic mountain of clothes is left each
> week, some with price tags still attached.
>
> Inside the warehouse, workers cull the clean and undamaged clothes,
> roughly 1 piece in 5, to give to the poor or to sell at thrift shops. They
> feed the rest -- as much as four million pounds a year -- into mighty
> machines that bind them into 1,100-pound, 5-foot-long bales. Rag dealers
> buy the bales for 5 cents a pound and ship them off to countries like Yemen
> and Senegal.
>
> Nearly a decade of rising prosperity has changed the ways that Americans
> view and use clothing, so much so that cast-off clothes have become the
> flotsam of turn-of-the-century affluence. Americans bought 17.2 billion
> articles of clothing in 1998 -- a 16 percent increase over 1993, according
> to the NPG Group, a market research concern in Port Washington, N.Y. -- and
> gave the Salvation Army alone several hundred million pieces, well over
> 100,000 tons.
>
> And because so few people make or mend their clothes anymore, among the
> changes has been this one, in 1998: The Bureau of Labor Statistics moved
> sewing machines from the ''apparel and upkeep'' category of consumer
> spending to ''recreation.''
>
> The clothing glut is a boon to the many charities like the Salvation Army
> that sort and sell old clothes. ''You choke on sweaters,'' said Capt. Thomas
> E. Taylor, administrator of the Salvation Army's Providence center, one of
> the three or four busiest of the organization's 119 across the country. No
> one in the United States, Captain Taylor said, need ever go without being
> properly dressed.
>
> At the warehouse, Judy Keegan was unloading a cargo of dresses, jeans and
> shirts.
>
> ''I do this regularly,'' Ms. Keegan, who has four children, ages 6 to 15,
> said of giving away family clothing. ''I grew up with hand-me-downs, but if
> they need something, we go buy it.''
>
> Joanna Wood, a social worker who was choking on linens, brought in a
> blanket and comforter.
>
> ''The frightening thing,'' Ms. Wood said, ''is I'm a nonshopper.''
>
> Beyond clearing their closets, donors have a monetary incentive for
> giving away clothes here. They can claim a tax deduction if they ask for a
> form when they pull in. Ms. Keegan took one, Ms. Wood did not.
>
> ''The majority don't,'' Captain Taylor said. ''The majority of people
> just give.''
>
> Clothing is easier than ever to buy, not only because incomes have gone
> up and unemployment has gone down, but also because clothes are getting
> relatively cheaper. Clothing prices have risen just 13 percent in a decade,
> while the average for all consumer goods rose 34 percent. Prices of women's
> clothes are lower now than six years ago.
>
> But the greatest boon to shopping and shedding may be the fast-changing
> fashion styles, and not only for women. Few children settle for their older
> siblings' outdated Starter jackets and baggy jeans. Elementary school
> principals routinely complain of overflowing lost-and-found departments.
>
> These phenomena have swept across the spectrum of the retail economy,
> from boutique shoppers to bargain hunters. Conservatively attired in beige,
> Susan Brenneman, a 30-year-old software executive, seemed a model of
> reserve, moderation and thrift. Then she popped open the trunk of her Volvo
> sedan. From Nieman Marcus, Banana Republic and Lord & Taylor shopping bags,
> she plucked 6 suits, 8 pairs of shoes, 10 pairs of pants, 5 blouses, 10
> belts, 2 sweaters and a raincoat.
>
> The clothes, all spotless and neat, were up to two years old. Ms.
> Brenneman said her company's shift to more casual wear put an end to the
> suits. Still, wincing at the size of her load, Ms. Brenneman said she was
> revising her priorities. ''More quality and less volume,'' she said. In
> buying and scrapping clothes, Ms. Brenneman had nothing on a 42-year-old
> woman who was rifling through the racks at the 18,500-square-foot Salvation
> Army thrift store next to the warehouse. She was wearing last week's
> acquisition, a shimmering Navy blue tank top embroidered with the Wilson
> sportswear logo, which had cost her $1.
>
> ''Clothes, I go through them like water,'' said the woman, who identified
> herself only as Casey. ''I change my outfits all the time.''
> The tank top, like everything else she buys, is eventually destined for
> donation, she said.
>
> ''But why pay $25, when you can pay 25 cents?''
>
> In another aisle, Sarah Demirjian, a retired widow, held up a pair of
> printed Rafaella slacks. They started at $6 and now, on sale, were $1.
> ''The person probably wore this once or twice and junked it,'' she said.
> ''It's the disposable society.''
>
> In their different ways, these women are all cogs in a large,
> little-known industry that helps sustain organizations, like the Salvation
> Army, that recycle clothes so they can recycle people, from the street into
> the work force.
>
> Each of the Salvation Army's centers combines a warehouse and an Adult
> Rehabilitation Center. Seventy-one recovering addicts, or ''beneficiaries,''
> as the organization calls them, live and work at the Providence center.
>
> ''We deal with them spiritually, socially, rehabilitatively and with work
> therapy,'' Captain Taylor said.
>
> For the six weeks to many months they are here, beneficiaries are tightly
> regimented while the center feeds them, houses them in spartan dormitories,
> trains them for work and steers them into jobs beyond the centers. For their
> work in the warehouse, they are paid a ''gratuity'' of $5 to $15 a week,
> depending on their progress in the program.
>
> Three teams of beneficiaries, about 10 sorters and taggers, confronted
> the great clothing glut on the second floor of the warehouse, an old
> textile factory. Terrence Mitchell, 41, a resident here for three months
> and a sorter, tore open a donor's black plastic bag and spotted a denim
> shirt turned inside out.
>
> ''Inside out, throw it out,'' Mr. Mitchell said. Most inside-out clothing
> has something to hide, usually dirt and stains. He picked up a black
> leather handbag, still in its protective plastic cover, still with its
> price tag.
>
> ''That goes to new,'' Mr. Mitchell said, sending it to a crate with other
> items with their original tags.
>
> A Bugle Boy windbreaker was soiled on one side. ''Out,'' he said, tossing
> it into a bin that would feed it to the baling machines.
>
> Next, a bag with 20 new-looking bras, in lavender satin, red lace, a
> leopard-skin print, all the same size. ''Maybe someone died,'' Mr. Mitchell
> said. They went to taggers like Laura Whiteside, 34.
>
> ''We get Jones of New York, Evan Picone, Christian Dior,'' Ms. Whiteside
> said. ''Here's a Stafford shirt. That's Penney's own brand.''
>
> After three weeks here, Ms. Whiteside had become a lightning-quick
> tagger, thrusting item upon item into a table-top machine that pins on a
> blue, yellow, green or white price tag -- one color for each week of the
> month.
>
> The color coding lets the thrift shops, which price the clothing, know
> when an item has been on their racks and unsold for a month. If it has
> been, it is sent to the baling machines, or ''ragged out,'' in the parlance
> of the workers. Twice a week or so, the bales are loaded into the dealers'
> 18-wheelers and often into containers for shipping.
>
> ''They can go to Guatemala, Mexico,'' said Fletcher Fisher, the warehouse
> supervisor and a former beneficiary. ''A lot can go overseas to Africa. We
> ship a lot to Canada, and from there they ship it all over.''
>
> Leoson's International in Toronto specializes in trade with the Middle
> East. ''We just sold a container to Yemen,'' said Leo Ohanian, the
> company's export director. A container is 40 feet long and takes 32
> bales, Mr. Ohanian said, or nearly 18 tons of clothes.
>
> ''There are two classes in the Middle East, high class and very low
> class,'' he said. ''The very low class can't afford the clothing they have
> there.''
>
> ============================================
>
