The Basics

My hairdryer is about to meet its demise. It chokes along and spits a burst of hot air if I push the cord at just the right angle but it's clear that the device's days are numbered. I have no illusions of possessing a mechanical inclination but the idea of just tossing it is unattractive so I considered trying to fix it. However, the thing is designed as a few pieces of interlocking plastic so I'm pretty sure that if I took it apart, I'd never get it together again in a way that would be at all safe to use. Thank you, planned obsolescence.

The only local place I can think of to get a new one would be Collier's, my local drug store. Sadly, they sell no hairdryers. In fact, they sell few health and beauty aids at all. Two brands of make-up and a few types of shampoo take up a short aisle next to school supplies. This isn't a rant against them for limited selection. They stock Burt's Bees and Almay, two companies which do not test on animals and get some good rankings from tests by the Environmental Working Group on some of their products. I don't need 10 brands of lip-balm if there is a safe, cruelty-free one for sale.

The point is that I'm realizing that local shops don't generally sell much in the way of basic, everyday goods. You can't get a hairdryer or underwear locally. Specialty goods- luxury yarn, handmade pottery, higher-end clothing, sure. The cheaper versions of those things, as well as the 2 dozen other dull, daily-use items that reside in our homes and offices, are the domain of Wal-mart and Target and other big-box stores.

They can either dictate what price they will buy them from the manufacturer or buy in such massive quantities that there is no way a small shop can offer a similar price. If you want a unique t-shirt, your local boutique will have it and you'll pay the higher price because it's unique. A package of 3 white tee's however, is not a draw. The shop would have to charge more than most people would be willing to pay, especially when the mega-retailer sells them for next to nothing. They can. They paid very little for the item and can make up a small profit margin on the other 10 goods one is likely to get while in the store.

So what is the solution on the hairdryer? I don't want to cave and buy another poorly constructed one. A friend suggested thrift stores so I'll be trolling those, hoping one shows up before mine finally gives up the ghost. Until then, swearing and twisting the cord just so will have to do it.

(Note: It was later suggested that I just do without a hairdryer. Duh! This never occured to me. We'll see how I do with flat hair.)

Not Alone

Other people's reaction to our resolution has been mixed:
"That's...uh...different."
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
and the occasional overwhelming enthusiasm.

In response: I suppose it IS different, it's not impossible (though at times, highly inconvenient), why is slowly becoming clearer than the original idea that this is generally a Good Thing, and the enthusiasm is always appreciated.

Solidarity is always nice when people are thinking you quite odd so it was nice to get this link from my sister yesterday. Some nice, financially secure, folks in Seattle are doing there bit to keep their local bookstores afloat in the current crappy economy. They aren't shopping 100% at local stores but they are conscious of the tenuous position of small shopkeepers and are actively spending money in a way to keep the community alive that they enjoy.

As great as that is, this British woman gets top honors. Eight years ago, she made a New Year's resolution (yay!) to shop on only one street.* She did it to support the shops and has ended up saving money, eating better, and enjoying socializing with shopkeepers. The whole experience was so positive that she has continued to do her shopping on one road for eight years. Wow.

There is a common thread in the interviews with these local shoppers. They like walking to the stores, chatting with the shopkeepers and participating in the local community. When was the last time you walked to Barnes and Noble or Best Buy and had a chat with the owner? Or did you go from house to garage to car to parking lot, pick up your goods and pay for them with maybe a sentence or two exchange with the checkout clerk, and go back into your car, garage and home?

Isn't that a little lonely?

The alternative is to reduce your carbon footprint, get some exercise, interact socially and be a part of the community where you live. If you buy locally, the money stays local and you are probably indirectly helping local charities or arts that your shopkeeper supports.

Or you can shop at the chain store from which most of your money will be sent off to parts likely unknown. But hey, you'll probably save a few bucks on your purchase. That might cover gas, part of the gym membership, and a little 'feel good' purchase to make up for the lack of community belonging.

*In Britain, most towns have a High Street where there are a lot of different shops in a row. Americans: think Main Street. But not the abandoned strip or square of vacant buildings that is likely at the center of your city. Main Street in the 1960's, before the invention of the strip mall and move of commerce to the then fringes of town.

Ice Storm, pt. II

I have one other confession to make from the time of the storm. I shopped at a chain grocery store. The co-op was closed and I chose not to drive north to see if the Asian markets were functioning or not (unlikely). I chose to shop at the chain and have my apples when I wanted them.

There. I own it.

Now that a recovery week has passed and things are opening up again, it is a little worrisome to see the rate at which different stores recover. The chain grocer and Wal-mart (I'm told) are back up to normal stocking in produce and dairy. My co-op still looks decimated. Where did the food for the chains come from so fast? Who put it out when most were still without power and safety at home? In a sustained crisis situation, would we all have to rely on Wal-mart to feed us?

Peril and Comfort

I, like most of northwest Arkansas, just spent a week without power. After an amazingly beautiful, amazingly destructive ice storm went through the area, everything relating to normal everyday life stopped. Hot showers, central heating, refrigerated foods, stop lights, schools, work, shops.

After a few cold meals, hurriedly grabbed from the warming fridge, eaten by candlelight in the steadily cooling house, one wants a hot meal. Not needs I grant you, but wants.

I sinned last week. A friend brought a meat-based, warm meal purchased at a chain fast food restaurant. So many no-no's for this food conscious, vegetarian, local consumer.

I ate it gratefully, happily and without regret.

In times of discomfort, I have learned, I will sacrifice my principles to feel better. Hm. I ain't proud, but I'm trying to be honest.