Ethical style mini post

Hello everyone,

This week has been more than a little bit full on with both a black tie event and a stag do to contend with. I'm sure I will write posts about both. But since I'm late posting this week (sorry) here's a little midweek mini-post to keep you going!

I've been meaning to write a post about ethics in fashion for a while now. Particularly about the human and environmental cost of fast fashion. But the thing is there is so much to say and I am nowhere near as knowledgable or eloquent as some of the people already writing about this.

So rather than writing myself I wanted to use this post to point you towards a peice of powerful writing I've read recently, an amazing artist and a place where buying a jumper actively does good. A pick an mix ethics blog if you like. I hope you enjoy it.

First up : This amazing guest blog by Stylewise on Seasons & Salt took my breath away when I read it a couple of weeks back. It's an astounding call out to people like me who talk proudly about the ethically sourced items in their wardrobes but still let themselves buy clothes they know have a price in human cruelty. This line hit me where I live:

"Here’s the deal: people should be treated like they matter, because they do. It’s not a great moral accomplishment to ensure that workers are treated fairly, it’s simply the right thing to do."

Seriously. Read it - it's wonderful. 

Secondly: Sometimes it takes a picture to really bring something home to me. The images below are from a collection by Alke Schmidt about conditions in texile factories. Her work is challenging and amazing - there are some more examples on her site here.

Up third is this jumper

You can buy it here.

This is what the website says about it: The Bradbury is a day centre for the over 50s. Our expert knitters meet once a week for a knit and a chat over a cup of tea. This jumper was hand-knitted by Heather. The ladies donate profits to the centre, allowing them to welcome in more of London's older people.

£65 well spent I reckon.

I'll be back with my usual long form stuff on Friday, have a good week folks!

Why my wedding certificate is sexist

It's not a clothes post I'm afraid (I've given myself permission for some not to be - but my most recent challenge post is here) - but it is a follow up from the (surprisingly popular) post I did a couple of weeks ago about why I changed my name when I got married. If you want to you can read it here.
 
I feel like I'm talking a lot about weddings at the moment. This is because two of my best friends are getting wed next month, and a good number of other friends are engaged. We've had lots of chats about frocks, the right balance between looking like yourself and your photogenic best and (inevitably) I've banged on about how lovely my wedding was. There are loads of things I feel strongly about in terms of the pressures put on brides to transform into a generic fantasy princess (whose fantasy? WHOSE?) that I'm sure I'll post about at some point but today I'm going to talk about wedding certificates and why in their current format they are more than a little sexist.

I really enjoyed my wedding day - I'm lucky in that I was the first of my friendship group to get married and so I didn't carry the weight of comparison that many people have when planning their weddings. I hadn't seen a single friend worry about table decorations, wedding favours, bridal make up or invite design - so consequently I didn't either. Where I thought it would be fun to make an effort (handmade boxes of bulbs as wedding invites for example) I did, and where I didn't give a shit (bridal make up, save the dates, Pimms on the patio) we just didn't bother.

As a result there was very little ritual to our wedding but loads of love, almost everything I value about the day looking back was a loving contribution from someone important to us, the flowers, the cake and the photography were all done by people we loved. The ivy and roses on the windowsills a last minute addition from some friend's midnight trip to a local park with some secateurs when our budget couldn't quite stretch. The evening buffet was made the morning of the wedding by my parents, sisters, brother -in-laws, nieces and nephews on trestle tables outside the caravans and tents they were staying in. 

It was simple, disorganised, chaotic and perfect. It was genuinely an amazingly happy day. But there was one little incident that nearly derailed the whole thing for me, and that was about our marriage certificate.

Matt's dad contributed one of the few traditional elements to the wedding; he hired a beautiful old car. I remember being a bit 'whatever' about this when he suggested it. I don't massively care about cars, but he loves them and this was something he wanted to do for us so I said yes. And I'm very glad I did - it was lovely to drive across in our open top car to the venue. To climb a fence in my wedding dress to get to the campsite loos cos I was busting, to drop the f-bomb and have my Dad say (I swear the only time he's ever been shocked by my swearing) "Elizabeth - in your wedding dress!” Brilliant.

That little bit of time in the car with my Dad before the ceremony; the moment of calm was great. I don't know if other fathers and daughters have deep and meaningfuls on the way to the ceremony. We didn't - not really our style - frankly we'd have appreciated some Garth Brooks to loudly sing along to, but actually that quiet drive was exactly what I needed.

And so when I got to the venue I was ready to get bloody wed!

But instead I found myself in an argument with the registrar about the wedding certificate. She'd started to fill it out with Matt, and when he'd given her my father’s name for the certificate, she'd queried why it didn't match my birth certificate, and then held off to talk to me.

Did you know that legally you're supposed have to have your father’s name on your marriage certificate? As in whoever is named on your birth certificate. You can't have your mothers.

It doesn't matter what your personal circumstances are. How little your father did, or how much your mother. It is the law.

I know I'm not the only person to have felt this like a knife in the gut. The legal element of my marriage, the document I had to sign couldn't have the person who had raised me's details on it - but it could include the name of someone with no part in my life. 

Now I understand why it couldn't include my stepfather's name, I think it's silly and old fashioned, but technically he didn't adopt me. Yes he opened my 11 plus results, bought me tampons, kept me fed and emotionally stable when Mum was in hospital with cancer, yes he picked me up after countless nights out, banned me from going out 'dressed like that' and taught me to cook lasagne. But legally he isn't my father - so I get it, it's a legal document - it's dumb but I'm basically ok with it.  

I'm not ok with having to have my biological fathers name on the certificate rather than my mother's. That's old fashioned, it's sexist and it's completely pointless.

All the reasons for recording a marriage, to track bloodlines and histories, to determine inheritances, in this day and age are served as well my mother's name as by my father's.

Now you can (and I did) choose not to have your father's name on the certificate. My options were this - his details or a line though a box. His history or nothing.

Just lines through a box where my mum's name should be

My husband's entry speaks of history and a connection to his family, in mine I appear as a foundling. Anyone looking at that document, the legal expression of our love and commitment could assume I came from nowhere, was unloved and uncared for. And that couldn't be further from the truth. My mother raised me, raised all us girls, and my step brothers and sisters too. And she's invisible in my paperwork after she's done the job of giving birth to me. 

So I stood there in my wedding dress. A dress that I had bought ex display, that my mother had painstakingly taken apart, cleaned, put back together and re sewn 100's of beads onto. being given a choice beween someone I loathed's name on my marriage certificate or no-ones. Trying to bargain with a registrar who couldn't change anything even if she wanted to to get my mum's name, or my stepdads on that document.

Eleven years after my wedding I am still incensed by this. I'm really glad I didn't know about this before my wedding day, as if it hadn't been for all those people I loved, who'd worked so hard to make our day perfect waiting to watch us get married I don't think I would have been able to bring myself to do it. I know that in reality I rarely look at my wedding certificate. It is largely a symbolic document, but it's a symbolic document in which the woman who raised me doesn't warrant a mention. Where there is no legal avenue we can follow to get her acknowledged as my primary care giver. Where somehow everything she's done is considered insignificant.

Giving birth, teaching me to read, to bake and to sew, the toys and dresses she made me, the conversations, the long walks as I tried to figure out who I was and who I wanted to be, the financial sacrifices, all of it. And she doesn't even get her name in a box that would otherwise have a line through it. 

It didn't ruin my day - there was too much love in the room for that. But it did (and does) make me angry every time I think about it.

It's not good enough really is it?

Normally this blog is about living with less. I started it to raise awareness about families of disabled children living in poverty. You can find out about my challenge here and donate to make a difference here 

Will the capsule work in winter?

So I’ve been feeling a bit grotty this week. Matt’s had a rotten cold, it’s rained nearly every day and I can feel winter creeping closer minute by minute.

When it’s cold outside comfy warm clothes are more important than ever. So my mind has quite naturally turned to my winter wardrobe. I've just realised that the challenge is going to be much harder on me this coming winter than summer was, because in winter (normally) I am all about layering. 

I find wrapping up in loads of different layers and textures really comforting. It’s really unusual for me to leave the house between November and February in less than 2 scarves. I regularly wear legwarmers over woolly tights and 4 or more layers on my top half. Think 1940’s bag lady/ Bloomsbury aunt and you’ll begin to get the picture.

I also love a good coat, a red belted number one day, a sequinned flapper jacket the next, with my beloved parka with its massive poacher’s pockets doing heavy duty too.

And then gloves, fingerless gloves in particular are a small obsession for me. I love them, chunky ones over thin ones – lovely, lovely warm wrists – which are so important given the amount of time Squeak and I spend tramping around outside.

I just love piling on layer after layer, snuggling into a big coat and heading out into the cold. Watching my breath crystalize in the chill winter air and having my face be numb and cold while the rest of my body is toasty – perfection.  I totted up the number of items in my favourite winter outfit from last year and it came to 12. In one outfit! And I’ve only got 35 all year. So either I need to be ok with smelling a bit fusty all winter whilst wearing my one winter outfit – or I need to come up with a different strategy for this winter!

This baby is my layering soulmate. Good work tiny person.

And having given it some serious thought I’ve decided that I have too much love and respect for my friends and colleagues to go for the stinky option. So I’ve stepped away from thinking about fashion and wrapping up and tried to think about what will work with the stuff I already have in the capsule. And found my mind kept drifting back to the way I used to dress in my early 20’s.

Until about 6 years ago I couldn’t be trusted with a pair of tights for longer than a couple of hours – I’m just so clumsy. I still at the age of 35 fall over – stone cold sober- at least once a week! These days when I ruin a pair of tights I can just get a new one – but back then surviving on a play worker’s salary that just wasn’t an option. So I wore trousers under my dresses all the time.

I had a bit of a play with this over the last week and discovered I still really like it, it’s comfortable, it’s warm, and it allows me to dress like a girl even though I still galumph all over the place like an 8 year old boy. 

So I bought myself a pair of grey jeans to test this out with and ended up wearing them all week! 

 

My new jeans. Obv this is a stock photo & not me - I don't allow photos of my arse as a rule!

They got a day off on Wednesday when they went through the wash, but besides that they have been doing some seriously heavy duty. If you follow me on instagram (@edarcherthinks) you'll be seeing a lot of them.

So 11 items left (12 if the sandals are swap outs which most of my sponsors seem to agree is sensible). How would you suggest I make sure I stay warm and can still enjoy a tramp around with the dog this winter?

While you’re thinking about how I stay warm. Think about how difficult it is for families to ensure they keep themselves and their families warm on a limited budget. I started this challenge because I was disgusted to realise how many families of disabled children go without heating or clothing in order to meet the extra costs of raising a Disabled child. Contact A Family are working tirelessly to change this. If you want to make a donation you can do so here.

Isn't that baby photo awesome? I didn't take it. Here is how to find out about the chap that did....  photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45665234@N00/3711466241">buh buh buh baby</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">(license)</a>

Who are the experts on hardwearing clothing?

Do you want to know how to make sure your clothes are as hardwearing as possible? 

Which brands you can trust to sell you stuff that won't fall apart after a couple of washes?

I think I've identified the right people to go to for advice!

If you are a regular reader you'll know that I'm finding it tough to manage the challenge of sticking to 35 items of clothing for the full year. Not because I'm bored (though sometimes I am), but because my clothes don’t seem to be up to it - not even 4 months in and my t-shirts are limp, and one of my pairs of shoes has basically disintegrated. It is all in all a bit disappointing. (It also led to me having this rant about feminism and fashion)

Any way a couple of weeks back I was at a work meeting and hung around at the end to catch up with some colleagues. We got to talking about the challenge and my reasons for doing it. We were laughing about the fact that despite me having been in the meeting for ages I was still soaking wet. 

One of my colleagues started to tell me about the clothes he was wearing. And for once I listened to a man giving clothes recommendations rather than just tuning him out.

Now usually when men talk to me about what I should wear I smile nicely and ignore them. There is really only two ways they can go with this:

1) Telling me what they think 'looks nice'. *takes a deep breath* Stop right there. I don't exist to ornament your life. Consider how long you want to live before you say another word. 

2) Telling me how they make their clothes last longer. I’m pretty cynical about this as a result of 14 years in a relationship with a man who fixes his clothes with cable ties and gaffer tape. I mean the clothes still technically function but......

So why did I listen to this particular man? I'd love to say it's because he's a trusted colleague, wise and forward thinking all of which he is, and that's why I listen to him on work matters. But I listened to him on clothing for a different reason. He's a wheelchair user.

Why do I mention this? Because over the course of my career I've known a lot of people who use wheelchairs and I've learnt their clothes have to be very very robust. In fact Scope reckons clothes cost an extra £100 a month in wear and tear if you use a wheelchair, £1200 a year! So you can imagine having hardwearing clothes becomes a real priority.

If you are a wheelchair user starting a capsule wardrobe try reading this blog from wheelchair mommy

Dependant on the level of mobility you have in the rest of your body it can actually be quite a workout getting your clothes on. So your clothes need to be easy to get on & off, ideally waterproof or water resistant, they need to be breathable, and they need to be pretty tough. Wheelchairs have all manner of parts you can catch you clothes on and transfers on and off the chair provide loads of opportunities to damage your clothing.

So in a conversation about hardwearing practical clothes, I knew Phil had some real knowledge to share - if he was recommending clothes he'd been on Safari in - they'd definitely have the toughness they'd need for a year with me.

The brand he recommended (Rohan) do some pretty nice stuff too.

But it got me thinking that rather that looking all over the internet for advice about hardwearing clothes I should be talking to the people I know put their clothes through their paces about what works for them. So if we're out together and you use a wheelchair you are going to get asked where you buy your clothes - be warned!

Where do you suggest I find hardwearing (& nice) clothes?

If you want to read more about the extra cost people with disabilities face the extra costs commission report is here.

Did you know Contact a Family’s 2014 Counting the Costs research found that 65% of families of disabled children are going without essentials like clothes to cover these extra costs? 

Some of those families who go without clothes to cover the extra costs have children who use wheelchairs - many do not. I'm always reluctant to talk about the challenges faced by wheelchair users because I'm wary of that 'ramps are the answer to equality' chain of thought that used to be how we thought of accessibility. Some of the extra costs families face are because of entirely different types of additional needs. Sometimes their children's childcare costs more, because they need adaptations to their homes not just ramps, but things like blackout blinds to minimise the impact of their child's sleep condition, or because travel to appointments is expensive and parking costs when you get there even more so.

You can help by donating to contact a family here.