Patagonia: Buy Less, Reuse More, Recycle
This morning was discouraging, until I watched this video. I know I’m a bit late to the game on this; but it’s still worth writing about.
As I looked at this morning’s top industry headlines, I once again felt like advertising is the annoying kid at the party clamoring desperately for people’s attention. Shoes that make music, innovative uses QR codes, brands going on hugely expensive road trips – all for the sake of convincing people to buy more stuff. It’s satiating and unsustainable. Then I saw this article:
Many consumer goods companies have environmental initiatives. Think of Dell’s e-waste recycling program, for example. Or P&G’s commitment to 100 percent renewable energy. Or the Chevy Volt, even.
But, as laudable as these are, you might argue that they are secondary to a larger problem. All these companies still want us to buy more products. If a consumer goods company truly wanted to be sustainable, they might suggest that we consume a little less, or at least price their goods at a cost that reflects their true impact.
Couldn’t agree more! One of the core reasons I’m in advertising is to help reduce consumerism. How that works itself out is messy and often murky at best. Sometimes it’s in small adjustments to a piece of work, sometimes it’s in large adjustments to a brand’s purpose. Either way, it’s an uphill (but worthwhile) battle.
Occasionally, something like Patagonia’s Common Threads initiative comes along and blows the lid off the whole thing. It’s not just a small win, it’s not merely a minor tweak; it’s a huge shift resulting in a moment of beauty. I know that language could be seen as hyperbolic, but I genuinely find this idea and the videos associated with it to be a thing of beauty.
Teenage Brains – From National Geographic Magazine
Although you know your teenager takes some chances, it can be a shock to hear about them.
One fine May morning not long ago my oldest son, 17 at the time, phoned to tell me that he had just spent a couple hours at the state police barracks. Apparently he had been driving “a little fast.” What, I asked, was “a little fast”? Turns out this product of my genes and loving care, the boy-man I had swaddled, coddled, cooed at, and then pushed and pulled to the brink of manhood, had been flying down the highway at 113 miles an hour.
“That’s more than a little fast,” I said.
He agreed. In fact, he sounded somber and contrite. He did not object when I told him he’d have to pay the fines and probably for a lawyer. He did not argue when I pointed out that if anything happens at that speed—a dog in the road, a blown tire, a sneeze—he dies. He was in fact almost irritatingly reasonable. He even proffered that the cop did the right thing in stopping him, for, as he put it, “We can’t all go around doing 113.”
He did, however, object to one thing. He didn’t like it that one of the several citations he received was for reckless driving.
“Well,” I huffed, sensing an opportunity to finally yell at him, “what would you call it?”
“It’s just not accurate,” he said calmly. “ ’Reckless’ sounds like you’re not paying attention. But I was. I made a deliberate point of doing this on an empty stretch of dry interstate, in broad daylight, with good sight lines and no traffic. I mean, I wasn’t just gunning the thing. I was driving.
“I guess that’s what I want you to know. If it makes you feel any better, I was really focused.”
Actually, it did make me feel better. That bothered me, for I didn’t understand why. Now I do.
I frequently drove 100+ mph as a teen. These days, I consider that to be not so smart (I also don’t own a car anymore). My changed outlook worries me. Is “getting old” an inevitable part of getting older?
The research cited in this article is a fascinating explanation of what happens in teens brains as they evolve, and how “getting older” doesn’t have to mean “getting old.” I don’t necessarily agree with all of his premises or conclusions, but it’s a very interesting article.