Fashion Revolution Week: Mean Business, Make Waffles

This is Fashion Revolution Week, hosted by FashionRevolution.org.

First, a bit of an "imaginary heroine" story from The Vivienne Files:

"She returned [from her vacation] to a madhouse. Drinking at lunch, crying in the bathrooms, shouting in the halls – it had all of the elements of a bad soap opera, without the romance…

"So she decided that it was finally time to take over.  She’d considered it before, but wasn’t really all that interested in management. But when she saw how absolutely miserable her co-workers were, she started to plan."

Do you notice something that's not going on in that office?  The drinking, crying, shouting employees aren't doing anything to improve the situation, no matter what their qualifications or skills are supposed to be. As the story continues, the heroine assumes the role of ad-hoc manager by managing.

Here's an older story: the 1921 novel Re-Creations, by Grace Livingston Hill. During her senior year of college, Cornelia is called home due to family needs. At first she is annoyed, but then she realizes how desperate things have gotten and how badly the household needs someone to take on an adult role. (The mother has been hospitalized, apparently from overworking and undereating.)

"It was no use whatever to sit here and cry about it when such a mountain of work awaited her. The lady on the train had been right when she told her there would be plenty of chance for her talent...At least things could be clean and tidy. And there should be waffles!"

What needs to happen to make this family's world better can only be done by doing, and Cornelia has to be the one to get the ball rolling.

So what are we talking about here? Bossing people around? Washing sheets and making waffles? Not exactly...more like...if the mess is all around you, don't wait for somebody else to clean it up. If you have people around you, of any age or relationship, you're modelling behaviour for them, like it or not.  So start somewhere. Stay calm. Use your talents. Make a plan. 

Act (and, if necessary, dress) to show you mean it. In the case of the Vivienne Files heroine, getting people to take her seriously meant dressing up; but for Cornelia, who had a house to scrub down, dinner to cook, and curtains to stencil, it was the opposite.

Ask for help and co-operation, but make sure your helpers get waffles (or pizza, or whatever).

And what might this have to do with Fashion Revolution Week? Simply this: if you're troubled by little or big problems (like fast fashion), decide to be part of the solution; and then do something to show that you mean business. 

People will notice.

What happens when someone takes this advice to heart? Part Two will be posted on Tuesday..

From the archives: Life on a desert island, so to speak

First posted March 2011, edited slightly

I [previously] mentioned that I'd found a copy of Flanagan's Smart Home, by Barbara Flanagan.

The subtitle of the book is "The 98 Essentials for Starting Out, Starting Over, Scaling Back."

That concept is introduced at the beginning of the book, but seems to get lost a bit in discussion of whether the items described are durable, well-designed, and/or eco-friendly.  Flanagan doesn't explain exactly how or why she came up with 98 "essential" items for a home--she does say that she was aiming for 100 but that it came out at 98.  As someone said in a review of the book (I think on Amazon), her magic 98 didn't include a toilet plunger...someone else said they can't live without a roll of duct tape.  We could probably debate the "essentialness" of such things as a salt cellar, an electric blanket, a headband flashlight, and a floor lamp in the bedroom; and whether a microwave AND a toaster oven should be essential (yes, we have both, but I admit they do take up a lot of counter space). Also, "98" refers to the number of different items, not the sheer number of objects. For example, "fork" counts as one item, although most households would have more than one.  "Night table" assumes that you have just one.  "Bookcases" count as one item, but books don't figure into the count at all.  She also recommends vinyl records (Mr. Fixit would appreciate that), but the records themselves aren't counted with the 98.   Neither are personal items or clothing.

In contrast to today's "essentials" (based, perhaps, on what a single person living in a small condo would need), here are the useful items acquired by Joyce Radway in Grace Livingston Hill's Not Under the Law (1924/1925), on the first day that she starts housekeeping in a house about the size of a garden shed:

Wooden box, pile of newspapers, and a few peanut shells (came free with the house)
Thread, needles, thimble, pins
Enough cheese cloth for window curtains
Blue and white chintz
Half a yard of white organdie
Blue and white checked apron
"Canned alcohol and a little outfit [tools] for cooking with it"
Paper plates and cups
A sharp knife
A pair of good scissors
A hammer
A can opener
Some tacks
A few long nails
A broom, a scrubbing brush, soap, a galvanized pail, and a sponge
Several wooden boxes and two nice clean sugar barrels (she makes chairs out of those)
Candles
Two more aprons (she needs them for a temporary job)

But "one couldn't just exist if one was working, one had to have things tolerably comfortable for resting and eating or one couldn't do good work.  So she went back to her little house and sat down to think.  The conclusion of her meditation was that she decided to buy a saw."

So Joyce takes the train into the city and buys:

A Bible (used)
The saw ("the best of steel")
Gray denim for upholstery
Flowered cretonne to cover her box dressing table
"A lot of wire springs, some upholstery webbing, and twine, a long, double-pointed upholstery needle, and several pounds of curled hair and cheap cotton."
Some personal items like a hairbrush and nightgowns
Towels

"It really cost very little to live when one was careful.  As for heat and light, she did not need either at this time of year....Sheets and pillow-cases were not expensive when one bought remnants of coarse cloth and hemmed them; and washing was not hard to do with the outside faucet and drain so near."

One person's salt cellar is, I suppose, another person's saw.

The interest in Joyce's shopping list (fantastical and overly optimistic though it is--living in a garden shed does present some practical problems that GLH never goes near), and the value of the Smart Home book, is similar to the effect that Material World has on its readers.  (The book where people around the world put all their worldly goods out in front of their houses.)  Each one makes you ask yourself--could you live with less?  If you have lived with little, or have been through a bad emergency situation, or have lived with inconveniences such as having to cook in the garage for a season, you might not find the idea of "essentials only" particularly romantic or desirable.  Most of us want enough stuff to be at least comfortable.

But how do you know where to stop?

Do you have a list of 98?  498?  998?

Does everybody need a salad spinner?

What's your take?

Answers to Christmas Books Quiz 2012

This year's Christmas Books Quiz is here.

1. Anyway by midwinter Gandalf and Bilbo had come all the way back, along both edges of the Forest, to the doors of Beorn's house; and there for a while they both stayed. Yuletide was warm and merry there; and men came from far and wide to feast at Beorn's bidding.

The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien (1937)

2. She had suggested they open their gifts on Christmas evening in front of the fire, dressed in their favorite robes. Thank heaven her gift had arrived--and already wrapped, into the bargain. He'd had it delivered to Dora Pugh at the hardware, in case he couldn't be found at his office to sign for it. It was all too easy, he thought. Just call toll-free and talk to someone solicitous and give them a credit card number. It seemed a man should suffer a bit over what to give his beloved. Next year, he would do better.

These High, Green Hills, by Jan Karon (1996)

3. There were several parcels wrapped in white tissue paper, and one very large box with the inscription: "For Fräulein Maria for Distribution." Surrounded by the children I unpacked it, and out came eight pairs of woolen mittens, eight beautiful, soft, gray Wetterflecks, and eight pairs of heavy boots. This was a great surprise, and with a guilty heart, I hardly dared look at Baroness Matilda. But tonight was Christmas, and, shaking a finger at me, she only laughed.

The Story of the Trapp Family Singers, by Maria Augusta Trapp (1949)

4. "Just suppose Mrs. Beck had had to bring him up! What would he have been like?" "She wouldn't!" said Rand. "She'd have put him out on the doorstep...We must take great care to bring him up to know the Lord. Dale, I'm going to start in this Christmas Day telling him all about it! I'll tell him the story of the angels and the shepherds and the wise men, and the Christ who came and lived and died for him! I'll begin right away and I'll keep it up day after day. He's not going to able to say he never heard the truth." "George, how perfectly absurd! As if a baby like that could understand words!" said Dale with a tender smile. "Well, he may not be able to understand words," said Rand stubbornly, "but he's learning them all the time, and somehow he finds out what things mean."

Partners, by Grace Livingston Hill  (1940)

5. The window looked into the courtyard and all there was to see was the windows, storey above story, of the rooms opposite. On the gray Christmas morning it looked incredibly cheerless....While the maid was getting the logs he dressed himself, and then, when she got busy setting things to rights, he sat down and looked at the grim courtyard. He thought disconsolately of the jolly party at the Terry-Masons'. They would be having a glass of sherry now before sitting down to their Christmas dinner of turkey and plum pudding, and they would all be very gay, pleased with their Christmas presents, noisy and jolly.

Christmas Holiday, by Somerset Maugham (1939)

6. "A tree should have tinsel," said Mrs. Jones. She bought some tinsel. "And candles," she said. "Candles are prettier than electric light." She bought twelve red candles....And a tree should have some balls, thought Mrs. Jones, glass balls in jewel colors, ruby-red, emerald-green, and gold. She bought some balls and a box of tiny silver crackers and a tinsel star. When she got home she stood the tree in the window and dressed it, putting the star on top. "Who is to look at it?" asked Mr. Jones. Mrs. Jones thought for a moment and said, "Christmas needs children, Albert." Albert was Mr. Jones's name. "I wonder," said Mrs. Jones. "Couldn't we find a little girl?"

The Story of Holly and Ivy, by Rumer Godden (1958)

7. Imogene had the baby doll but she wasn't carrying it the way she was supposed to, cradled in her arms. She had it slung up over her shoulder, and before she put it in the manger she thumped it twice on the back. I heard Alice gasp and she poked me. "I don't think it's very nice to burp the baby Jesus," she whispered, "as if he had colic." Then she poked me again. "Do you suppose he could have had colic?"

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, by Barbara Robinson (1972)

8. "Greetings, greetings, greetings," said the three children. "What's that about?" said Mrs. Rogers. "You said to greet Aunt Myra with Carols," said Amelia Bedelia. "Here's Carol Lee, Carol Green, and Carol Lake." "What lovely Carols," said Aunt Myra. "Thank you."

Merry Christmas, Amelia Bedelia, by Peggy Parish (1986)

9. Santa Claus appeared to be rather doubtful. But Harold confidently went to work lining up the reindeer. Soon Prancer and Dancer were pawing at the snow, eager to be off around the world. Harold wasn't quite certain of the names of the other reindeer. But he made sure there were eight of them. They were all handsome and spirited animals.

Harold at the North Pole, by Crockett Johnson (1958)

10. It was past Vespers on Christmas Eve before Cadfael had time to make a brief visit to the town, to spend at least an hour with Aline, and take a gift to his two-year-old godson, a little wooden horse that Martin Bellecote the master-carpenter had made for him, with gaily coloured harness and trappings fit for a knight, made out of scraps of felt and cloth and leather by Cadfael himself...."I can stay no more than an hour," said Cadfael, as the boy scrambled down again to play with his new toy. "I must be back for Compline, and very soon after that begins Matins, and we shall be up all the night until Prime and the dawn Mass...." When he noted the sand in the glass and rose to take his leave, he went out from the hall into the bright glitter of frost, and a vault of stars now three times larger than when first they appeared, and crackling with brilliance....This night, the eve of the Nativity, hung about the town utterly still and silent, not a breath to temper the bite of the frost. Even the movements of such men as were abroad seemed hushed and almost stealthy, afraid to shake the wonder.

The Raven in the Foregate (Brother Cadfael Mysteries), by Ellis Peters (1986)

If you and your house were on a desert island

Yesterday I mentioned that I'd found a copy of Flanagan's Smart Home, by Barbara Flanagan.

The subtitle of the book is "The 98 Essentials for Starting Out, Starting Over, Scaling Back."

That concept is introduced at the beginning of the book, but seems to get lost a bit in discussion of whether the items described are durable, well-designed, and/or eco-friendly.  Flanagan doesn't explain exactly how or why she came up with 98 "essential" items for a home--she does say that she was aiming for 100 but that it came out at 98.  As someone said in a review of the book (I think on Amazon), her magic 98 didn't include a toilet plunger...someone else said they can't live without a roll of duct tape.  We could probably debate the "essentialness" of such things as a salt cellar, an electric blanket, a headband flashlight, and a floor lamp in the bedroom; and whether a microwave AND a toaster oven should be essential (yes, we have both, but I admit they do take up a lot of counter space). Also, "98" refers to the number of different items, not the sheer number of objects; for example, "fork" counts as one item, although most households would have more than one.  "Night table" assumes that you have just one.  "Bookcases" count as one item, but books don't figure into the count at all.  She also recommends vinyl records (Mr. Fixit would appreciate that), but the records themselves aren't counted with the 98.   Neither are personal items or clothing.

In contrast to today's "essentials" (based, perhaps, on what a single person living in a small condo would need), here are the useful items acquired by Joyce Radway in Grace Livingston Hill's Not Under the Law (1924/1925), on the first day that she starts housekeeping in a house about the size of a garden shed:

Wooden box, pile of newspapers, and a few peanut shells (came free with the house)
Thread, needles, thimble, pins
Enough cheese cloth for window curtains
Blue and white chintz
Half a yard of white organdie
Blue and white checked apron
"Canned alcohol and a little outfit for cooking with it"  (No, that doesn't mean an apron and chef's hat!)
Paper plates and cups
A sharp knife
A pair of good scissors
A hammer
A can opener
Some tacks
A few long nails
A broom, a scrubbing brush, soap, a galvanized pail, and a sponge
Several wooden boxes and two nice clean sugar barrels (she makes chairs out of those)
Candles
Two more aprons (she needs them for a temporary job)

But "one couldn't just exist if one was working, one had to have things tolerably comfortable for resting and eating or one couldn't do good work.  So she went back to her little house and sat down to think.  The conclusion of her meditation was that she decided to buy a saw."

So she takes the train into the city and buys:

A Bible (used)
The saw ("the best of steel")
Gray denim for upholstery
Flowered cretonne to cover her box dressing table
"A lot of wire springs, some upholstery webbing, and twine, a long, double-pointed upholstery needle, and several pounds of curled hair and cheap cotton."
Some personal items like a hairbrush and nightgowns
Towels

"It really cost very little to live when one was careful.  As for heat and light, she did not need either at this time of year....Sheets and pillow-cases were not expensive when one bought remnants of coarse cloth and hemmed them; and washing was not hard to do with the outside faucet and drain so near."

One person's salt cellar is, I suppose, another person's saw.

The interest in Joyce's shopping list (fantastical and overly optimistic though it is--living in a garden shed does present some practical problems that GLH never goes near), and the value of the Smart Home book, is similar to the effect that Material World has on its readers.  (You know, the book where people around the world put all their worldly goods out in front of their houses.)  Each one makes you ask yourself--could you live with less?  If you have lived with little, or have been through a bad emergency situation, or have lived with inconveniences such as having to cook in the garage for a season, you might not find the idea of "essentials only" particularly romantic or desirable.  Most of us want enough stuff to be at least comfortable.

But how do you know where to stop?

Do you have a list of 98?  498?  998?

Does everybody need a salad spinner?

What's your take?