My Favourite Top – Has it Got Something to Hide?

Does my skeleton look big in this?

My favourite top is slash necked and bat-winged. Sounds like some vampire horror story of a garment I know, but I feel good when I wear it.  I love the sophisticatedness of the slash neck – not to be confused with a slashed neck, which is not at all sophisticated, or comfortable – and the relaxed yet elegant cut of the sleeves.  It is effortlessly stylish.  And yet, something has come between me and my top.  I’m beginning to suspect it may be hiding a skeleton in the closet.

I’ve no proof – just rumours.  But all the same it’s got me thinking, where had it been before we met on that clothes rack in Zara, the Knightsbridge branch, all those years ago?  Because, I don’t know if you know this, but cotton, which is mostly what my beloved top is made from, isn’t as soft and fluffy as we’re led to believe.  At least it doesn’t start out that way. 

I mean what would you think if you thought your top, could, in some small way, have contributed to an ecological catastrophe? The disappearance of a sea, no less. I couldn’t believe it.  I know, it’s hard to imagine an innocent, albeit subtly sexy, top could be mixed up in this sort of mess, but it seems the

Cotton - queen of the crops?

evidence is mounting against it.

So, ok, the story goes something like this: once upon a time the Aral Sea, which lies between Kazakhstan, in the north, and Uzbekistan, in the south, was the fourth largest lake in the world. For thousands of years, the local people made use of the Aral’s natural resources – for irrigating crops and fishing – until, under Soviet rule, Uzbekistan discovered the export potential of cotton. Ka-ching!  Jackpot! And so, began the slow draining of the Aral Sea, to irrigate what the present government affectionately term, ‘white gold’.  An apt nickname, considering it rakes in over $1 billion every year.

The thing is cotton’s a kinda thirsty old plant: according to Water Footprint, it takes around 2700 litres of

water to produce the cotton for one lil’ ol’ shirt.  It doesn’t take a genius to work out if Uzbekistan is one of the largest cotton exporters in the world then a whole lotta water is guzzled in the process. The result? On his visit there a couple of weeks ago, the UN and Secretary-General, Ban Ki-moon, said:

“…[H]e could not see anything except a “cemetery of ships marooned in the sand.” As a result of the disaster, people are getting sick, the land is poisoned, and storms blow dust and salt as far as the North Pole.”

Cotton is quite greedy, for a plant

I guess it’s not my top’s fault, but it turns out, the desertification of the Aral Sea is just the tip of the iceberg, or something like that. Cos Uzbekistan’s President, Islam Karimov, poetically described by Sting, the

dictator’s daughter’s fave famous person, as, “…hermetically sealed in his own medieval, tyrannical mindset.”  has, according to the UN and Amnesty International, lived up to this description:

Sting in the tail?

“…boiling his enemies, slaughtering his poverty-stricken people when they protest, and conscripting armies of children for slave labour.”.  Sounds like a grimmerer and grimmerer Grimm’s fairytale.

Hmmm? What’s that? Child slave labour?  I mean if slaughtering and boiling doesn’t capture the public’s attention, then animal or child cruelty surely will – just look at those doe eyes!  Well, according to the Environmental Justice Foundation, due to underinvestment and a shortage of agricultural machinery, 90% of Uzbek cotton is harvested by hand; and a lot of it by wee nippers, who miss up to 3 months of school, to pick the prickly crop – ouch!  The EJF’s Pick Your Cotton Carefully campaign has already encouraged many high street retailers to

Come along, kiddie-winkies!

commit to sourcing cotton elsewhere.  However, last month, fashion hotspots Zara and H&M found themselves in the hot seat, accused of buying Uzbek, and essentially supporting slavery. 

And so it goes on. There are many more tales to tell, from pesticide poisoning to sweat shop labour, but that’s for another day.  I’m not sure this is the end of the road for me and my fave top, maybe we can patch things up.  It just seems to me that it’s part of our responsibility to consider where our clothes – or anything we consume – have come from.  We can learn about each other that way – broaden our horizons.  And it’s a reminder, that although we may feel like our purchasing power is all just a drop in the ocean, even oceans can be finite, apparently.

Mad March & Ethical Fashion Con-Fusion

I’m late, I’m late! Noooo, I’m not pregnant – just way overdue. Where did February go? I just don’t know! But here we are well into March. In Bunhill Cemetery the daffodils are a-shaking their shocking yellow heads; and the bluebells are a-tinkling which means one thing: spring! Ding dong the witch is dead get outta bed…

Spring has sprung and I’ve returned from my year of self-imposed exile to London tan’s Eastend to start a-new. So I began my new London life in style by attending the Fashion Fusion Expo, “a showcase for the very best in ethical and sustainable designers”. A short stroll daan the

I'm off to the sustain-a-ball

frog (that’s authentic cockney rhyming slang …) to the labyrinthine Truman Brewery, the FFE was a little hard to find. But once I found it boy I wished I hadn’t.

I’d been peachy keen to get my teeth into some sustainable style, not to mention “…get up close and personal with … industry experts…” as the website claimed. I mean I’ve just become a fully fledged Holistic Colour & Style Consultant, don’t you know, and I want to make some contacts: designers I can tell my future clients about, that sort of thing. But after costing an arm and a leg to get in – a tenner, Olympia prices! – there turned out to be all of ten stalls; a couple of which looked strangely similar, so they kinda cancelled each other out…

And I’d set my heart on listening to a talk given by Image Consultant, Hannah Jean, who was supposed to be on at 12 noon, Saturday. She has an interesting slant on image and self empowerment and runs a project for teenage girls called Diva-licious – this is the

Curiouser & Curiouser

sort of stuff I want to hear about, the sort of stuff I want to do. But the talks were rescheduled and no-one seemed to know what was happening when: curiouser and curiouser. And by the time Hannah Jean appeared she was even later than this blog, and not all I’d anticipated. So I cut my losses and left.

I did manage to have a chat with some some lovely ladies however, including: Frank & Faith, who were exhibiting an array of simple separates in sustainable fabrics, in lush colours, made in the UK; NV, an “…ethical accessories company … producing entirely handmade, high quality bags and accessories, designed in Britain and created in Calcutta…”; and the Ethical Fashion Forum, who told me, it would be worth attending their monthly socials for networking porpoises… (I went to see Alice in 3D the night before last, and I’m toadally off my head now).

Surely the Fashion Fusion Expo was meant to establish ethical and sustainable as viable alternatives to fast

Green (& ethical) with NV

fashion? Instead it showed that green is not the new black it claims to be, but a pale imitation. My climate change enthusiast (if you can be enthusiastic about such a thing) house-mate had tagged along and insisted the reason for the FFE failure was that there isn’t that much ethical or eco fashion around, full stop. I was like, er, yeah there is! I mean, if the sustainable style message is missing this gal, then there has to be something seriously wrong.

And if events like these are the face of the ethical fashion industry then there’s no wonder people are sticking to their fast fashion fix. Fast fashion comes in enticing, addictive ‘eat me’ ‘drink me’ consumable, disposable packaging; and Green is still perceived as a bitter pill to swallow. For ethical and eco high ideals to be embraced by the high street, and beyond, events like these need to stop being Fashion Con-Fusion – ho ho ho – and start catwalking the talk.  (A bit like me and the old colour & style consulting business!)

Pyjama Saga – The 3Es & Wardrobe Wonderland

Where's the gold rush?

I was thinking: I’ve strayed from the path.  Meandered from my catwalk on the wild side and marauded all over the shop.  And so, I’m back to talk about the 3 E’s of style – all things: eco-friendly, ethical and economical.

2009 was not good on the wardrobe front.  Well… I say that, but in one way, a severe lack of money way, it was.  My impecuniousness mess meant I wasn’t at liberty to go frittering my hard earned dosh willy nilly. 

Coco wore the trousers - in bed...

On the other hand lack of dough means lack of choice. It means you seriously consider shopping in Primark, against your better judgement.  It means charity shops, boot sales and swishes are your big 3 E destinations; which is fine except if you really need something, it’s kinda luck if you come across it second hand. 

In fact, actually finding what you’re looking for is one of my biggest bugbears (I never say that in real life).    I just don’t get how there are so many shops, with so many shelves, featuring so many products, in so many variations and yet finding bog standard men’s-style pyjamas – pjs without ‘sex kitten’ emblazoned across the chest in diamanté – is nigh on impossible.  I have to say my timing – pre Christmas and post Coco avant Chanel biopic fashion frenzy – may have had something to do with it.  But it’s not only pyjamas, I’d like a red scarf. Pink, purple or green, yes.  Red.  No. 

And I’m not alone.  My friend has been searching high and lo for a navy blue duffle coat with red lining a la Paddington Bear, for years.  Having found said item to be a myth she investigated the possibility of having

Can't find those bear necessities...

one tailor-made.  All fine and dandy, if you’re Jonathan Ross, cos she was quoted something like, £500 for the job!  Eeek!  Somewhere like Vogue would say this is an ‘investment’, which it kinda is, unless like some of us you don’t have a credit card; and seeing as I’ve spied things for a few hundred squids in their Cheap & Chic supplements, who knows what planet they bank on. 

So I was intrigued to read this on the future of fashion, 2010 – 2020, in the free Stylist magazine thrust in my face outside Fenchurch Street station: 

“The customer will design their own clothes and accessories online or at store computer terminals.  Within an hour, their unique creations will be ready and thanks to 3D body scanning, they’ll fit perfectly.” 

Modern Millies are happy Millies

Sounds like a return to good old fashioned tailoring, with a Thoroughly Modern Milly of a twist to me.  Imagine clothes which actually fit! Wild, eh? Although I do have some reservations about the turnaround time of an ‘hour’!  Who is gonna be making these clothes – elves?  Or maybe by 2020 the economy will be so far up Sh*t Creek employing nimble-fingered infants will be the norm as parents who went mental with the IVF and got a litter of little ‘uns are forced to send ’em out to work for a pittance.   Cos my next thought is… cost.  There must be a catch 22 ‘ere somewhere…

But before I go meandering any further down Pondering Alley I just want to end this ‘ere entry by saying: it’s pretty darned obvious our consuming passions aren’t being satisfied by the fast fashion industry.  Or at least, if some of us are dead set on chameleon couture, then it needs to be properly disposable, ie, biodegradable, otherwise it’s just more slag for the heap.  And for those of us with a more long term wardrobe plan then it means you should be able to find the perfect LBD in one hit, instead of twenty clangers.

Is a Tweet on the Web 2.0 Worth a Wardrobe of Words?

Too many words.  That’s what some geezer said about someone’s website at the Web 2.0 course, led by Chris from EcoTube, I attended the other week.  And I thought, hmmm, if that’s too many words he’d gawk if he saw me wee blog.  Which is

Can't see the words for the tweets?

probably … no, definitely why it takes me so long to write these posts. 

There is a prima donna ‘writer’ inside of me saying, “Too many words!? There are just as many words, my dear fellow, as required. Neither more nor less.” But I am not entirely convinced of this fact – meandering is and has been a preoccupation of mine you see.

Which is why I let my friend, R, talk me into Twittering.  You can only say whatever it is you have to say in 140

Tweet Attack?

characters or less.  So one is forced to get to the bleedin’ point!  My Twitter adventure, thus far, has comprised of an announcement of my intention to embark on said Twitter adventure, and R pointing out, a week later, that my Twitter adventuring seemed somewhat lack lustre.  Probably because I had tweeted – twitted? twat? twot? – once in that week.  At this point I did consider writing something whip cracking, witty and Wildean about procrastination…[it takes one to know one, you see] only, ironically, I haven’t got round to it. 

Not to mention I have yet to completely purge myself of the suspicion that Twitter is narcissism par excellence – unlike blogging of course, ahem.  Only I read an article by India Knight,  in Easy Living Magazine, who says:

“I love Twitter.  People assume it’s a vast repository of excruciating Pooteresque banalities … But it all depends on who you ‘follow’  … Above all, I’ve been delighted by strangers’ wit, articulacy, intelligence and good humour.  If you’re a writer, sitting at home in front of your computer all day, Twitter is like a huge cocktail party going on all around you … it’s a cynacism-killer for an ultra-cynical age, and utterly marvellous.” 

Being clever and concise is not as easy as it looks when it comes to getting your point across, which is the problem I have every time I go networking.  I have tried and tried to put my Adventuress Undressed manifesto into ten words or less, but I simply stumble over them as I ramble round the houses scrabbling for words in the rubble which was my strap line.

 So I was more than a little intrigued to meet Sheena Matheiken of  The Uniform Project at the Futerra Swish I

attended during Greengaged at the Design Council.  If you take a gander at their website, you’ll see that the concept – wearing the same dress for a year for charity and as an exercise in sustainability – is explained by way of a pictogram equation.  And it says more than a whole menagerie of words ever could. 

Which also brings me to the word ‘swish’, a term coined by Futerra, a communications agency with an eco and ethical edge, to describe the concept of clothes swapping in a controlled environment.  This was my third clothes swapping experience and pretty successful it was too.  I swashed a deceptively simple black

One Dress 365 Looks

pinafore style dress, with pockets, which I have worn countless times since.  Inspired by this new-found

simplicity and The Uniform Project, I have begun to seriously consider the benefits to be had in wearing a uniform of sorts. 

I mean, if you had a dress made to measure, which flattered your figure, you could pretty much guarantee you’d always look good.  I asked Sheena whether she’d return to her former wardrobe habits after the year was up, but she said she found it hard to think past the project right now.  Fair enough when you consider she is having to think outside the wardrobe every day and come up with a new look using the same dress and a clutch of accessories.  But it is this creative aspect which Sheena says has been particularly satisfying, and which I reckon, is an underrated element of the style equation.  Because, when it comes down to it often less is more when it comes to wardrobes, as well as words.

Fear & Loathing in Marks & Spencer’s – Where have all the Good Pants Gone?

Angst In My Pants:
Part 2 – Pants
An ill-fitting or unsightly pair of pants can  curb your enthusiasm no end, just as the perfect pair of everyday drawers can help you work, rest and play. Their inherent power is such that not only do superheroes sport briefs, but some have long since worn them over their tights – with pride.  Like the power behind the throne and all that, the role of pants is kinda taken for granted and they are used and abused with little to no thought, until one dares to bare, or they reveal themselves, usually via VPL or low slung slacks.  But more worryingly still, aside from causing low grade unease, according to the film, More than Pretty Knickers by Eco Boudoir, a really bad pair of pants can be bad for the planet.  Yes, the humble brief can be a toxic, energy guzzling, sweatshop produced menace.

So, armed with the knowledge your knickers could be more evil than Evel Knievel you try to find some kinder, ethical, eco-friendly, everyday underpants at a reasonable cost to you and the environment. 

How bad are your pants?

This, dear reader was my pant plan.  Setting out with a jaunty air of optimism and anticipation at some planet-loving pant action  I entered the underwear aisle of ‘your’ M&S only to have my hopes dashed and my plans foiled.  The place was awash in Fairtrade Cotton t-shirts and vests, yes, but knickers – nada.  I had hitherto not considered such an eventuality and this left me stumped.  The question was: where could I get me some good-for-everything, everyday briefs at an ever so nice price?

Fear not! I not only come armed with some good pants solutions, but also, I have some brief advice as to finding your perfect partner in pants anti-eco-crime.

Colour
The 70s penchant for the beige and brown colour palette has left a certain someone I know marred by the memory of being presented with a pair of brown y-fronts adorned with a fetching stamps of the world print, trimmed in orange – not to mention some vague consternation at his mother’s misguided notion that he was into philately. 

Everyday underwear should be understated, colour wise, I reckon, but, also there’s the whole dirty dye issue, which begs the question, do your patterned pants have something to hide?

The 70s was pants for pants

Fabric
Same guy, same pants, that other 70s obsession, nylon knickers, and a pair of polyester slacks, with cowboy and Indian print pockets – result:  sweat pants.  How a pre-pubescent boy could perspire that much has a remained a mystery to this day, but he has harboured a grudge against them postage stamp pants ever since. 

Cotton, of course, is the fabric of choice – as it’s supposedly kind to your behind, but it’s not always so great for mankind.  More sustainable fabrics like bamboo and Lenpur, a fibre made from cultivated tree clippings, are becoming popular alternatives – whatever doesn’t tickle your fancy is key to fabric choice… ahem.

Style & Fit
Once, on a camping trip with my family, I awoke to find I was wearing a huge pair of man’s olive green, tanga pants.  Was this a Jekyll and Hyde type situation I wondered vaguely. Had I been a fully grown male at night, only to awake my usual seven year old, girl self in the morning?  The truth was only slightly less sinister.  My little sister, her mind ravaged by days of Devon’s version of Deli Belly, had been awakened in the night by some strange grumbling noises she cunningly detected were coming from the vicinity of my knickers – this information from the same person who heard Rudolph get his antler stuck in the chimney.  So, naturally, given her past performance, my bleary-eyed parents took her at her word and finding it to be completely unfounded, continued in their somnambulist states to put me in some over-sized, misshapen, manky coloured dad pants – eergh.  So, yeah, style and fit maketh the pant.  

Go commando? I don't think so...

How to Wear
First wear your own.  Second wear one at a time – the aforementioned sister once wore about ten pairs she had taken a shine to, only for them to slide down her legs, gather in a heap at her feet and slip off into the street as she was being pushed along in her buggy.  Third, wear, some… If you’ve negated to wear your knickers, do not hold your skirt aloft in the middle of the Post Office and announce, ‘Mummy, mummy I’m not wearing any knickers!’ to all and sundry.  The apparent power inherent in going commando is totally diminished by scenes like these, but then again, going commando is pretty overrated unless you’re doing it for the fear factor – for most of us a good pair of pants is like an adult security blanket.

The Good – Bog Standard – Pant Guide
Make your tatty tees into new knickers – supernaturale
Say ‘pants’ to poverty and be a real do-gooder in the Pants to Poverty, Purely Natural, organic and fairtrade pants
Bag yourself some anti-bacterial bamboo briefs – Spirit of Nature

Part 1 – Bras

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Angst in My Pants – Laying the Foundations to a Better Wardrobe & a Better You.

“To put it bluntly, I seem to have a whole superstructure with no foundation. But I’m working on the foundation.”

Marilyn Monroe

Foundations, foundations, foundations

In this time of economic upheaval when we all share a feeling of angst in our collective pants we are prone to retreat to the sofa of self-preservation and comfort-eat ourselves silly. One Friday, when my parents had opted for the Indian take away cure-all, my mother attempted to pay the expressionless cashier with a pair of black lacy knickers she had pulled from the cavernous depths of her handbag. The cashier gazed, unfazed, as my mother tried to convince onlookers that she had not intended to offer her underwear, or any other services hinted at, in exchange for a lamb korma, but carried the offending item with her just ‘in case’. “There’s nothing worse than being without clean knickers,” she explained. Or with, in this instance. And yet she had a point – when it gets down to it, we all need to get back to basics and think: foundations, foundations, foundations.

In my quest for a more ethical and eco-friendly wardrobe the question of underwear has proved somewhat problematic. And I’m not talking fancy fripperies – you know, those cobweb-like affairs made by fairy-fingered folk entirely for the benefit of the beholder, with little care for the Ruben-esque curves they should be holding. I’m talking the bread and butter of your underwear collection, which should be like a lover: comfortable, reliable and effective. And, if like me, you have more dash than cash, affordable too.

Part 1: Bras

We’ll work from the top down.  This week we’ll talk about bras. 

Multi-Breasted Fertility Goddess Syndrome (MFG)

Many a splendid breast is being let down by an unwise choice of bra. A lot has been said about the perils of VPL (‘visible pantie line’ for those of you still unaware), but the subject of the many multi-breasted fertility goddesses roaming the streets is hardly mentioned. MFG is, in my humble opinion, one of the biggest enemies of the stylish ensemble. Yes, the whole deciphering your cup-size thing can be a little daunting, and I guess some, like the woman on the 133, may even be tempted to let them all hang out, long, limp and pendulous – but ladies, the cleavage should always be situated around the upper chest area and not risk being sat on by a fellow passenger.

To be honest I’ve had my fair share of trouble with bras on buses, notably with my first bra (more wishful thinking than breast-ful needing I have to admit ) , which, having so little to cling onto gave up the ghost, released itself from its moorings and displayed its wrinkled, white, deflated self about my neck like a pair of sad old balloons left over from a party. I’m sorry to say my years of bra-blems are not over and I am often forced to endure the errant bra strap scenario, which encourages a sort of lopsided shrug in order to keep it in check – think Quasimodo.

Like a glove...

 

And once you’ve got yourself a reliable bra which fits like a glove, then remember: one bra does not fit all occasions. Obviously there’s the whole strapless / backless consideration, but colour is also important. I once had to swap bras with my sister, in a nightclub lavatory, because she had worn white beneath a black top, resulting in her breasts glowing like Belisha Beacons in the ultra violet lighting – rumour has it she was the inspiration behind Electric Six’s video for Danger! High Voltage.

Bra-sics – Where to go for the green, the good and the glamorous:

Greenfibres Green goddesses go here

Figleaves – Green Leaves is every Eve’s fave eco undies department

Ciel – Organic undies

Sleek ‘n’ Chic – Vintage va va voom

Next time we’ll be talking pants!

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