A New England Summer

Reading is what I did all summer. I wanted to stay in. I wanted to get 8 hours of sleep everyday. I wanted to write elegant code. I wanted to learn more ML algorithms. I wanted to go on walks. I wanted to go visit the native plants in this new land. I wanted long silences and life changing conversations. I wanted to earn my opinions. I wanted to meditate. I wanted to cook in my balcony while listening to the birds and traffic. I wanted to plan imaginary trips to where the trains go, but never leave my desk. I wanted to stumble upon Lemaire’s garments on The RealReal. I wanted to make every recipe Saida has on her website. I wanted to take a super nap every Saturday at noon. I want to drink juice at the Whole Foods bar (in my own reusable cup) every Sunday after doing sun salutations early in the morning. I wanted to make friends with ALL the dogs in the apartment I live in. This is me. This is my summer. Fashion has taken a backseat. Not out of choice, but out of circumstances. For once, I got a real hot summer. All my dresses were held hostage by the cross country movers who refuse to get here on time. When they did arrive, they were deemed not work appropriate by the power plant safety codes. This is hardly a tragedy worth complaining about, but on a blog, it’s alright to fuss about the small things. The movers finally forced me to adopt a capsule wardrobe. All the sustainability fashion blogs I read didnt help me convert. Not the essays on minimalism from the internet rock stars. Not all the people I know who consume less out of circumstance. Not my beloved numbers that I like to micro-analyze. The movers imposed it on me and it worked. Let me start from the beginning.

Chapter 1 : The West

Coming from the East, I always looked to the West for absolute freedom. For instance, no body imposes a curfew after which I can’t step outside my home. No body tells me what to wear. No body tells me what not to read. No body tells me to not think. No body asks me to not have opinions. No body forces me to do all the chores for the men in my life. Nobody asks me to alter my habits to align them with the man I am married to. Nobody forces me to go to temples and pray. Nobody harasses me on reproduction. Nobody shoves a default way to think about an issue down my throat. Nobody forces me to “be feminine”. I have the choice to make up my own mind. This is personal freedom. I cherish it. America handed this to me for the past 10 years and I do not take it for granted. Along the way, I learnt about the climate crisis. I learnt about the ecological crisis. I learnt about climate refugee crisis. I learnt about environmental racism. I learnt about the impact of high carbon lifestyles. Some ways of living my life cause direct / indirect harm to other humans. I started recognizing where the boundaries of my freedom should lay. ” If you can only be tall because someone’s on their knees, then you have a serious problem.” – Toni Morrison. ( Any one with 100,000$ worth of assets are the global elites. 42 million people who fall into this category emit more greenhouse gasses than the 3.8 billion people who are the most disadvantaged. Folks who contribute the least to this crisis are the ones who suffer the most. The climate crisis is a social justice issue). I started to see harm in the 3X way of life that is sold to us as the dream. And slowly, I am beginning to realize that individualism sometimes gets in the way of the solutions designed to mitigate the harm. Corporations seem to consider environmental responsibility as an infringement on their freedom to make profit. The folks who consume excess are quick to make a claim for the victim-hood when nudged to consume less. { Back in India, the older men in my life have been claiming that the men are the true victims of the #metoo movement. Having neutral conversations is exhausting. My parallel lives are beginning to look alike. } This much individualism, is too much. I quickly learnt it with reckless abandon and have been struggling to simplify my needs ever since. I no longer idolize absolute freedom as a concept. I have since found refuge in the Eastern philosophies while I cherish the personal freedom the West have afforded me. This is the an East-West difference I wear up my sleeve.

The American West coat – East coast dichotomy is slowly dawning upon me. For instance, the lean start up mindset of the Silicon Valley is not tangible here. But then, there is a work life balance – which is a first for me. The way of life was more free style in California. I see a trace of tradition and elegance on the East Coast. California exposed me to some very liberal and dystopian views. New England is where I made my first libertarian friends who will vote for who ever opposes gun control. West coast had diversity in race. The town I now live in is predominately white with quaint buildings. How ever, it’s too soon to make big sweeping statements about the differences and similarities. First impressions are just that – shallow. But I do have some observations on style that I care to write about. The West coast vibe is casual. A trajectory towards unisex, comfort, not-so fitted, sustain ably made, minimalism, uniforms, norm-core, understated luxury, …. are “cool”. I once attending a funding meeting with a VC. “Wear a hoodie. Do not open your mouth till you sign the NDA”, were the instructions sent when I asked about the dress code. Folks usually complain about billionaires, millionaires and the middle class people dressing the same way. “LinkedIn is lame but we need it to figure out ones social standing. You can’t tell from how they are dressed”, I once overheard at an Xmas Party. Everlane, Allbird, Patagonia, Levis, Blue Bottle coffee in a reusable mug, Tesla, … are beloved. There is no dress code but the style DNA is not invisible. There is a common sensibility and a pragmatism about it. That is why I landed here to a state of shock. The folks here are dressed to gradients of the Ivy League style. Shoes are made of leather and are patina-ed. The shirts are crisp and sharp. Trousers are well cut. Did I see a tie ? Wow, I thought those were extinct. On the Friday, everyone wears dark wash jeans and are extra cheerful. It’s been a warm and wonderful summer so far. The the memories of the winter seem to haunt these people like a relentless ghost. “Winter is coming”, is said often. They seem to aggressively enjoy the summer. Every weekend has a plan. When I don’t make plans, they seem to get FOMO. After all, the sun will be gone and a snow storm has the power to erase the memory of the summer. Nobody here forgets the impermanence. While I am enamored by the beauty of the land, I have mixed feeling about the new style code. In the Bay, I wished for more elegance and style. Now that I got it, I crave for a more casual style code. My biggest sartorial craving is to wear a t-shirt. Why is it that I always want something else ?

Chapter 2 : The tale of living out of a suitcase

The movers I chose, weren’t very punctual.

They promised a 9 day moving window. They took 45 days.

I started my new life with a plant that I carried in my arms and a few things in my carry on. Thanks to this excellent foresight into “need”, we slept on the floor and became urban backpackers. I have often romanticized extreme minimalism and adored it from a distance. I finally got a taste of it. It is sweet, salty, sour, bitter and has a certain umami. The knowledge that it’s temporary makes it a cool experiment to be in. If this was a more permanent state, I would be screaming about my deprivation from the rooftops. I played volleyball in a silk shirt and did weight training in oxfords. We bought an Instapot and tried out all sorts of one pot meals. We used an olive oil soap for body, hair, counter tops and dishes. It was an interesting period of time. The high from a fresh start drowned any discomfort from the inconveniences. I actually did fine without my stuff. I was productive. I was happy. I seem to learn this lesson on minimalism often and forget it at the first chance I get.

Chapter 3. I mended

A hotel we once stayed in, gave me an emergency sewing kit which I stored away in my carry on for years now. The crotch on my trousers ripped during a volley ball match. I could come home and mended my pants in under 5 minutes while possessing ZERO sewing skills. If I had my entire closet with me, I would have shoved these pants to the back of my closet and let them hibernate. Living out of a carry on made me act. I want to learn more techniques.

Chapter 4. New In

Rain coat.

90$, second hand.

Coz on any given day out here, there is a 50% chance of rain.

I wanted a navy blue or a red one.

Sustainability experts advice us to wait and buy the right item so that you only have to buy once. To love it for life.

I was waiting for months with no luck. Black is my second choice but it works. This is my most lent out garment. I am glad it matches every color any human could wear. Rain coats, rain boots and umbrellas should be bought to be lent out maybe ?

Snakeskin Loafers

120$, second hand.

Before the movers got here, having one pair of shoes that were semi wet from walking in the rain made me impulse buy these shoes. There are problems with the make of the shoe, but I needed a dry pair and it muddled my resolve to walk away from them.

pink repettoes

150$, second hand.

Sustainable fashion is a marriage between two entities : Sustainably made & Sustainably consumed. The industry should make it without causing harm. The consumer should consume under her/his ecological budget. When these two entities match, it’s the greatest love story. When one dominates other, it’s patriarchy all over again.

With shoes, I haven’t been able to consume sustain-ably. I have nothing to say as to why I need these. I cant even think of a lie to make up a need that doesn’t exist.

I declare my shoe excess publicly to ensure I never shame anyone about their consumerism.

Raw denim

40$, second hand.

I need at-least two pairs of denim in my closet. This is a genuine need.

Chapter 5. Clay, Soil, Dirt

Being born into a farming family teaches a certain reverence to the soil. “This soil is out mother”, sort of statements would be heard in our home, in the literature, in our films, in our poetry, on the tongues of our elders, in our scriptures, … The fables told through the history reinforce this idea. They mythological goddess Sita was found while tilling the soil. Our warriors smeared dirt on their foreheads before heading into a battle, in a manner that was considered symbolic to a blessing from the Earth that wants to be conquered. (I have seen athletes do the same.) “Daughter of this soil” is a phrase that sounds like jingoism but in it’s true sense, an ecological identity. The carbon and the nitrogen in the human body comes from the food we eat. ( Unfortunately, most modern agriculture uses fertilizers made of hydrocarbons from fossil fuels unless your farmer uses regenerative techniques. ) I used to make clay pots during my childhood. We would go scouting for the best clay we could find. We would dig till our fingers found a texture they liked. We made bricks. We made pots. We made statues. It was a childhood hobby for us village kids. We learnt about the soil. All of this belongs in my past. My urban life disconnected me from the ecosystem. I stopped reading the fables all together and mocked my great-grand-mother’s wisdom. That innocence is lost to me forever. There is no going back there. But the reverence of the soil can be re-learnt. My compost bin kick started it. Sustainability made me take note of the abusive land practices in use. (“Regenerative farming is the solution”, say it out loud ). When I was leaving California, I was getting nostalgic about the soil, yet again. How can I leave the backyard ? How can I leave the trees I planted ? I vowed to bring the soil back to life. How can I leave it ? Who will take care of it ? What will happen to my worms ? What will happen to my compost bin ?

During the open house, a forest ranger can in through my front door. It was respect at first sight. I begged him to take over. We shook hands and he has been giving me an education ever since. The lease I drafted had a clause : “The tenant agrees to be a good steward of the land”. Is it as simple as people vowing to make the land better than when they found it ? He used to be a chef. He learnt about the climate crisis and changed careers. He convinced me to take my sour dough starter along. He said “you will be taking the Californian yeast which has a different flavor profile which will intern interact with New England yeast”. How often do you hear a sentence like that ? In addition, I wanted to take some soil along. He talked me out of it. “Buy some pottery instead, if it is a remembrance you want”, he said.

This is my work mug. In the first 5 minutes of the documentary on Heath Ceramics, we see her say “I wanted to design something for the American way of life. Not the dishes that were used in Europe from the aristocracy. But much more peasant oriented. It could be for Sunday best but for everyday too”. I don’t think Edith Heath’s wares are priced for the peasants. But I will take one 40$ mug please. It’s beautiful, sustainably made, usable and durable. It’s not the “good china that you save because it might break”. Coz nothing owns you like the fragile stuff. It goes from “fun to use” to “careful not to break”. This one is usable. More importantly, I have my fingers on Californian clay all day long in-spite of my not being in the garden.

Chapter 6. RIP my old blog

It’s gone.

I picked a genteel solution proposed by a privileged group – arguably the safest group when it comes to climate crisis. They said “buy better things”. I said “aye aye captain” and started writing a blog about it.

The group of people who suffer the least from this crisis, should not be solely responsible for drafting what the reasonable solution should be. The people who will be the worst impacted get to decide. They should decide how far is too far. They should be the ones drawing battle lines. They are the ones who loose the most and they get to set the pace. My role is to be an ally. To listen. To learn. To change.

Who are the “they” ?

Unfortunately, I see the misery in my circle of humans. 16 family members including my grandparents are bankrupt due to the droughts and the farms that they nurtured for 50 years are now gone. Folks in their 80s and 70s are not wired for a career change in new environments. Some of them have children to retire to. Some of them are pawning their possessions, refusing help and living in extreme frugality. My mothers farm is in drought. My ancestral home is abandoned because they get water once every 3 days. Some of our neighbors in our village left their homes and now live with their relatives in the city. With every flood, there is the dengue fever that hits us. Our home is in the red flood zone and will soon be un-insurable based on the climate models. The second order ripples of this, is felt as farmer suicides. Folks I know have become climate refugees and climate orphans.

I own an DSLR camera and have a hobby of clicking photographs. None of the photographs I ever took, ever got printed. Except for one that got used for a funeral of a farmer who committed suicide.

If I get asked “what are you doing to mitigate the climate crisis ?” my answer can not be “I am buying better things second-hand”.

You are not stuck in the traffic. You are the traffic.

– Unknown.

Distractions posing as solutions are dangerous because they silently compound the harm.

I was green washing.

So I quit.

A pen name and a new start was necessary.

I want to do better. Much much better. The place I am right now is the start.

I want to live a low-carbon lifestyle. I want to do good work in energy science. Once I save enough money, I want to retire from tech and do regenerative farming.

Maybe I will hit my goals this time ?

I want to achieve it all in the lifespan of this blog. The pathway to my goals is worth writing about.

Who what am I?

My answer: I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I’ve gone which would not have happened if I had not come. Nor am I particularly exceptional in this matter; each “I,” every one of the now-six-hundred-million-plus of us, contains a similar multitude. I repeat for the last time: to understand me, you’ll have to swallow a world.

– Salman Rushdie in Midnight’s Children.

Chapter 7. A women with 300$ per month to play with

This chapter follows the previous chapter with intention. ( Or am I tone deaf? ) I claim affiliation to the farming community. I may grieve for my family. But here I am, talking about my disposable income and how I plan to spend it. This is how privilege works. Living in an industrialized nation that has reaped the economic reward off the back of colonization, slavery, resource exploitation and high emissions per capita provides me with this privilege. Working in tech provides me with it. My life has retained it’s normalcy. The Amazon is burning. Island populations have no where to go when the sea swallows their land. My mother’s income is now cut in half. We are in the midst of a mass extinction. Greta arrived on a sail boat. Today morning, I did yoga, went to the farmers market, drank juice in a reusable cup, plan to watch a movie, read a book, work a little and get some extra sleep. The “crisis mode” of living in a climate crisis, is not tangible. I am not on the front line of the harm. The farmers are. The underprivileged communities are. The indigenous communities are. The disadvantaged communities are. Humans living in the tropics are. The children are. The grandchildren are. …. I only KNOW OF people who are on the front lines. I ain’t the one there. I am in the group of people who produce disproportionate amount of emissions knowing that there is no social justice for climate. On the other side of the coin, living here has given me the power to make choices. I can choose to do something about the climate crisis because I am not busy with just survival – food, shelter and safety. The onus is upon me to do more.

I need to write this section. I need to be more opaque about my spending. Me pulling second hand well made goods out of a black box must not be very helpful to folks who read my blog. If I ought to write about sustain-ably acquired goods, I ought to address the biggest concern of all : the cost, the time and the effort put in. I do not know how to quantize effort. I started expanding my knowledge base and building a second hand shopping pipeline 5 years ago. I often write python scripts that go crawl the internet for what I need. It had an overhead at the start but today, it’s become effortless. With time, reporting minutes spent, is not indicative enough. Time expands or contracts based on how much joy we get out of the process. Money is easier to measure and report. What went into each dollar made and the opportunity cost of not spending it of-course makes this subjective too. This blog is written from the perspective of a woman who has allocated some money to play with.

Herodotus says, make big decisions by discussing them twice: once while drunk, once while sober. That is how I arrived at this number.

300$ per month.

This has been my disposable income for years now. Every other category of need and responsibility is accounted for. Until a recession hits or I loose my job or some other extenuating circumstance, this is the number I would be working with.

“Beauty is the first test: there is no permanent place in this world for ugly mathematics.”

– G. H. Hardy, A Mathematician’s Apology

The wise people often advise : “don’t spend on things. Spend on experiences instead”. From an environmental perspective, buying average amount of stuff might be better than air travelling for experiences. Road trips and train trips are a different matter of course. I wish the quote can be edited to “don’t spend on things. Spend on services”. We would create more jobs without bankrupting earth’s resources, value caregivers and learn more human centric skills. To be honest, I like spending my money on things. Some objects are tools for living. I like my tools to be well made. Beauty and craftsmanship is an experience/service. You can not produce excellent work without knowing what excellence is. You develop a taste for makers. From this view point, “buy better” is a shopping mantra that can improve the quality of life. But the only way we get any value out of it is by using it. Stuff I don’t use, inherently becomes worthless and makes me a hoarder. When beautiful things provide with a disproportionate amount of joy in comparison to all the other streams of happiness available … it’s trouble. I care about what I buy it, why I buy it and how I use it. These are questions are worth answering. As long as it’s with in my ecological budget, there is nothing fundamentally wrong with consumption. An ecological budget teaches me how not to live my life to reduce harm. But taste dictates how to live it. I would be very interested in analyzing my purchases. I would like to record how I split my money between Stuff/Experience/Service and observe the changes over time. We will talk about money, on this blog. So here we go.

Few things I spend every month :

1. Nytimes subscription – 4$.
2. Medium – 5$.
3. Hair vitamins : 30$

Once-a-year expenses that recur :

Sk-2 : 160$. Vitamin C : 12$ . Rose Hip seed oil : 10$. Foundation : 100$. Lipstick : 32$. Shower cap : 13$. Husband’s yearly birthday present : 250$ White tea : 150$

I am left with : 3600 – 1195 = 2405 / year ( A very handsome amount ).

Gifts, clothing, plants and books have been one of my biggest spending areas for the last decade.

This year, I want some of this money to go to my tailor and cobbler. I want to create a garment from scratch : design it, pick out fabric and find a seamstress who can make it. I want to buy pink and red socks. I want to support Indian sustainable fashion industry in some way. I want to organize a clothing swap and serve wine to my attendees. I want to go visit museums and attend more cultural events. I want to attend a workshop reachable without air travel. I want to spend more on presents I give. There is a canvas bag on my wish list that I want to save up for and buy when it appears on the second hand market. I want to take a creative writing class. I want to go on a foraging expedition that ends in making cocktails with what you pick, led by a naturalist I know in Delaware. My Macbook is freezing on me when ever I connect my camera for import. I ought to budget if I want to go through with these purchases.

Here is where the decision making comes in. This is why the wise folks say pick quality over quantity. I got to prioritize what improves the quality of life and edit out my list. I got to be mindful of my ecological budget.

{ Another way to think about NOT doing this sort of do-what-ever-with-300$-per-month. I agree with his wisdom. }

Chapter 8 : Recording Outfits

The measure of knowledge is not in knowing, but in application.

I want to be using 80% of my closet 90% of the time.

What does “I wear it all the time” mean ?

What does “I love this garment” mean ?

Data is the best evidence. Data is the way to disagree. Data is the way to agree. Data is the starting point to analyze a situation. If I can record what I wear, I can answer a lot of questions.

This blog will hopefully record clothes that get worn, worn-in and worn-out.

I love reading personal style blogs for this reason. Every person is an entity and every OOTD they put out is a data point. Over time, we learn something about them.

Chapter 9: What I have been reading

Textiles. For the last decade, I have idolized scandi chic and minimalist fashion. With it, my knowledge of textiles and thereby the appreciate for anything that is not poplin, twill, denim or wool went to a zero. I may have told myself that anything that is not the simplest industrialized solution, is not applicable to me. Then, I read this line :

“Industrialization, with its constant gentrification of the burgeoning middle class, and the 20th century’s Modern art movement – which pushed decorative arts into a subcategory labelled ‘frivolity’ – solidified the tenet that textile arts were feminine and thus less important. Subsequent and serious financial investments in painting and sculpture further rendered the status of textiles questionable.”

It’s true. If this is a reason why I don’t appreciate it, I want to remedy it. Wearing textiles for sake of appreciating them is not my current personal style but it fits my curiosity stream.

There exists a book called Minimalism in Fashion. The author correlated women’s liberation to garments becoming simpler, muted color palettes, relaxed silhouettes and less pressure to ornate. The book was based on European history. I know little to none about Indian fashion’s relationship with minimalism except for this one story :

Mahatma Gandhi’s freedom satyagraha, the protest against colonialism, asked the Indians to eliminate dependence on goods made by the colonizers and adopt the native simple hand spun khadi garments. This story is often told from the view point of the wealthy : “Indians burnt the British clothing and wore khadi in protest. It became a uniform during the movement”. The wealthy immediately switched out their wardrobes and would be seen wearing blazers on top of their khadi for special occasions. From a more average Indian’s perspective, “Indians did not have the money to make frivolous purchases. Most of them could not go and burn clothes to replace them with new. They wore their old garments and pledged to buy khadi for future needs”. ( Doesn’t this ring a similarity with how folks started decluttering fast fashion to replace them with sustainably-made clothes ? ) When Gandhi realized the financial burden of what he was asking, he immediately downsized his own wardrobe. He simplified what he wore. He embraced the scalable version of the solution that wasn’t only applicable to the wealthy, but to majority of the population. Indian women in the movement started wearing plain khadi sarees in the natural color of cotton. My great grandmother attended one of his rallies. She had no money of her own to donate but gave a gold bangle of hers. She told me that frugal living helped her let go of the attachment. That gold bangle was the most expensive thing she owned. Women did not have property rights during that time and she didn’t have any say in household budgeting. She learnt the words “for the good of the land”, from his rally. It stayed with her though life and she used it in decision making. At 82, she went to the voting booth to cast her vote and was turned away since she was registered in a different constituency. She immediately got on a bus, rode 3 hours one way, and cast her vote. “For the good of the land, you don’t waste your vote”, she said. She knew the value of every freedom she gained over time. We have another grandmother who donated her gold chain necklace to the freedom movement. My bachelor grandpa saw her do so, and immediately proposed marriage impressed by her magnanimity. I used to hear such stories in my village. But then, I never perceived voluntary simplicity beyond that one generation. I am looking for more stories. Maybe this book will provide me with some ?

Chapter 10 : Summer of Inspirations

Living in land-of-fair-skin worship has had its impact. Reading (Sapiens / A brief history of everything) helped me the most. I read about how beauty standards changed in tune with white supremacy and colonization. Any physical feature that resembled the European standard of beauty – light hair, sharp nose, blond eyes, fair skin, wide shoulders, lean limbs, tall stature, …. automatically got classified as beautiful. It rendered the native populations in the colonized nations – “people with no beauty”. If I fail to see beauty in dark skin, I am giving into the white supremacy ideology. Anti-racism is something to be learnt. Art can help. I have been actively trying to diversify the images I consume.

{ As an experiment, I went out and bought a skin foundation that was 2 shades darker than my skin tone. I wore it every day for a month to observe it’s effect on me. It was an interesting experiment to say the least. I went from “omg, I don’t look good” to muddled opinions to “f**k it” to “this is me. I accept” to “what am I doing?” }

Colors and their interaction with each other. Zoom into any painting and the micro world is vastly more interesting than the overall look of the work. I can go home and try to get colors to interact this way in out outfits. I fantasize hand embroidering small accents inspired by paintings. ( So much to do in life !! )

Climate Twitter

The number of scientists who has made activism their night jobs is inspiring.

A master list on Twitter.

Climate Instagram

Science can point us in the right direction. The community leaders have been stepping in and inspiring us to walk the required path. This is a tireless job and thankless work. They keep going. Thank you for existing and choosing this line of work. My favorites :

Kiss the Ground.

Aja Barber.

The slow factory.

Holly Rose.

Polly Barks.

Cleaning.

I do not have a calm mind. Cleaning helps. It’s meditative. I go into a black box. I feel rested after. I like the end product – a clean house. How is it that some baking soda mixed with vinegar, gives me this sort of return ? My need for cleanliness does not stop with the walls of my house. I need the entire world to be clean – the soil, the water and the air.

The downtime.

I love Saturdays. It’s the one day where I have the luxury of time. I get to do what ever I want, when ever I want. It’s like the childhood vacation in your grandma’s village where everything moved slowly and you experience the good kind of boredom. It’s like the time you went to camp and sat by the campfire staring at the stars. It’s like the time you first fell in love and got an entire hour to talk to him with no interruptions. It’s like the coffee data with yourself where you order pastries and flip through magazines. I stay in. I slow cook something and use the time to read/write/sleep/watch a show. Having time is the ultimate luxury.

The Climate Strike

We are just getting started. To everyone who has been protesting against the status quo, thank you. America ranks low on the Climate Vulnerability index. I doubt that most of you on the urban streets have tangible harm coming your way in the short term. That fact that you do so much, for social justice, makes me extra thankful. Thank you for caring about my family. It inspires me to pay it forward. A capsule wardrobe is the least I can do given how much this world continues to give me.