I am forwarding this piece from the NY Times. It says something about our
economy and maybe globalization, but I am puzzled whether its 'good' or
'bad' or 'both'.
arthur cordell
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Monday, July 19, 1999
Prosperity Builds Mounds of Cast-Off Clothes
The New York Times
Publication Date: Monday July 19, 1999
National Desk; Section A; Page 1, Column 1
PROVIDENCE, R.I. -- Hour by hour, cars and trucks back up to the
Salvation Army's warehouse loading dock on the edge of the prosperous East
Side here and disgorge clothing. Skirts and parkas, neckties and tank tops,
sweat pants and socks, a polychromatic mountain of clothes is left each
week, some with price tags still attached.
Inside the warehouse, workers cull the clean and undamaged clothes,
roughly 1 piece in 5, to give to the poor or to sell at thrift shops. They
feed the rest -- as much as four million pounds a year -- into mighty
machines that bind them into 1,100-pound, 5-foot-long bales. Rag dealers
buy the bales for 5 cents a pound and ship them off to countries like Yemen
and Senegal.
Nearly a decade of rising prosperity has changed the ways that Americans
view and use clothing, so much so that cast-off clothes have become the
flotsam of turn-of-the-century affluence. Americans bought 17.2 billion
articles of clothing in 1998 -- a 16 percent increase over 1993, according
to the NPG Group, a market research concern in Port Washington, N.Y. -- and
gave the Salvation Army alone several hundred million pieces, well over
100,000 tons.
And because so few people make or mend their clothes anymore, among the
changes has been this one, in 1998: The Bureau of Labor Statistics moved
sewing machines from the ''apparel and upkeep'' category of consumer
spending to ''recreation.''
The clothing glut is a boon to the many charities like the Salvation Army
that sort and sell old clothes. ''You choke on sweaters,'' said Capt. Thomas
E. Taylor, administrator of the Salvation Army's Providence center, one of
the three or four busiest of the organization's 119 across the country. No
one in the United States, Captain Taylor said, need ever go without being
properly dressed.
At the warehouse, Judy Keegan was unloading a cargo of dresses, jeans and
shirts.
''I do this regularly,'' Ms. Keegan, who has four children, ages 6 to 15,
said of giving away family clothing. ''I grew up with hand-me-downs, but if
they need something, we go buy it.''
Joanna Wood, a social worker who was choking on linens, brought in a
blanket and comforter.
''The frightening thing,'' Ms. Wood said, ''is I'm a nonshopper.''
Beyond clearing their closets, donors have a monetary incentive for
giving away clothes here. They can claim a tax deduction if they ask for a
form when they pull in. Ms. Keegan took one, Ms. Wood did not.
''The majority don't,'' Captain Taylor said. ''The majority of people
just give.''
Clothing is easier than ever to buy, not only because incomes have gone
up and unemployment has gone down, but also because clothes are getting
relatively cheaper. Clothing prices have risen just 13 percent in a decade,
while the average for all consumer goods rose 34 percent. Prices of women's
clothes are lower now than six years ago.
But the greatest boon to shopping and shedding may be the fast-changing
fashion styles, and not only for women. Few children settle for their older
siblings' outdated Starter jackets and baggy jeans. Elementary school
principals routinely complain of overflowing lost-and-found departments.
These phenomena have swept across the spectrum of the retail economy,
from boutique shoppers to bargain hunters. Conservatively attired in beige,
Susan Brenneman, a 30-year-old software executive, seemed a model of
reserve, moderation and thrift. Then she popped open the trunk of her Volvo
sedan. From Nieman Marcus, Banana Republic and Lord & Taylor shopping bags,
she plucked 6 suits, 8 pairs of shoes, 10 pairs of pants, 5 blouses, 10
belts, 2 sweaters and a raincoat.
The clothes, all spotless and neat, were up to two years old. Ms.
Brenneman said her company's shift to more casual wear put an end to the
suits. Still, wincing at the size of her load, Ms. Brenneman said she was
revising her priorities. ''More quality and less volume,'' she said. In
buying and scrapping clothes, Ms. Brenneman had nothing on a 42-year-old
woman who was rifling through the racks at the 18,500-square-foot Salvation
Army thrift store next to the warehouse. She was wearing last week's
acquisition, a shimmering Navy blue tank top embroidered with the Wilson
sportswear logo, which had cost her $1.
''Clothes, I go through them like water,'' said the woman, who identified
herself only as Casey. ''I change my outfits all the time.''
The tank top, like everything else she buys, is eventually destined for
donation, she said.
''But why pay $25, when you can pay 25 cents?''
In another aisle, Sarah Demirjian, a retired widow, held up a pair of
printed Rafaella slacks. They started at $6 and now, on sale, were $1.
''The person probably wore this once or twice and junked it,'' she said.
''It's the disposable society.''
In their different ways, these women are all cogs in a large,
little-known industry that helps sustain organizations, like the Salvation
Army, that recycle clothes so they can recycle people, from the street into
the work force.
Each of the Salvation Army's centers combines a warehouse and an Adult
Rehabilitation Center. Seventy-one recovering addicts, or ''beneficiaries,''
as the organization calls them, live and work at the Providence center.
''We deal with them spiritually, socially, rehabilitatively and with work
therapy,'' Captain Taylor said.
For the six weeks to many months they are here, beneficiaries are tightly
regimented while the center feeds them, houses them in spartan dormitories,
trains them for work and steers them into jobs beyond the centers. For their
work in the warehouse, they are paid a ''gratuity'' of $5 to $15 a week,
depending on their progress in the program.
Three teams of beneficiaries, about 10 sorters and taggers, confronted
the great clothing glut on the second floor of the warehouse, an old
textile factory. Terrence Mitchell, 41, a resident here for three months
and a sorter, tore open a donor's black plastic bag and spotted a denim
shirt turned inside out.
''Inside out, throw it out,'' Mr. Mitchell said. Most inside-out clothing
has something to hide, usually dirt and stains. He picked up a black
leather handbag, still in its protective plastic cover, still with its
price tag.
''That goes to new,'' Mr. Mitchell said, sending it to a crate with other
items with their original tags.
A Bugle Boy windbreaker was soiled on one side. ''Out,'' he said, tossing
it into a bin that would feed it to the baling machines.
Next, a bag with 20 new-looking bras, in lavender satin, red lace, a
leopard-skin print, all the same size. ''Maybe someone died,'' Mr. Mitchell
said. They went to taggers like Laura Whiteside, 34.
''We get Jones of New York, Evan Picone, Christian Dior,'' Ms. Whiteside
said. ''Here's a Stafford shirt. That's Penney's own brand.''
After three weeks here, Ms. Whiteside had become a lightning-quick
tagger, thrusting item upon item into a table-top machine that pins on a
blue, yellow, green or white price tag -- one color for each week of the
month.
The color coding lets the thrift shops, which price the clothing, know
when an item has been on their racks and unsold for a month. If it has
been, it is sent to the baling machines, or ''ragged out,'' in the parlance
of the workers. Twice a week or so, the bales are loaded into the dealers'
18-wheelers and often into containers for shipping.
''They can go to Guatemala, Mexico,'' said Fletcher Fisher, the warehouse
supervisor and a former beneficiary. ''A lot can go overseas to Africa. We
ship a lot to Canada, and from there they ship it all over.''
Leoson's International in Toronto specializes in trade with the Middle
East. ''We just sold a container to Yemen,'' said Leo Ohanian, the
company's export director. A container is 40 feet long and takes 32
bales, Mr. Ohanian said, or nearly 18 tons of clothes.
''There are two classes in the Middle East, high class and very low
class,'' he said. ''The very low class can't afford the clothing they have
there.''
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