A Penny for Your Thoughts.
A pile of ripped paper, red and gold stars and a Santa hat torn in two. The remains of a feast, with grease-marked paper hats, joke cards and cracker bangs. A rapture of ribbons and a handful of one-joy-only plastic toys: a green yoyo in the likeness of Kermit the Frog, a brittle pink eraser, a one-laugh-wonder jelly man with sticky fingers that you throw against a wall. A whistle, blown deafeningly by the youngest child at the table and put down, never to be used again. A confectionary of Yuletide plastics that offer a momentary hit of pleasure – a puzzlement of distraction.
But at what cost? Bulging landfills and a quest for ‘cheaper’ that devalues the time, energy and materials that goes into making something.
As humans we tend to like ‘stuff’. Adding decorative touches to our homes, treating ourselves to a new outfit or replacing your worn out set of sneakers with something more on trend is a normal human phenomenon – and no one is here to shame you on that.
There’s a reason we like new stuff. In fact our brains are hardwired to like novelty. A new phone, a new friend, a new dress style is often quick to catch our eye. And of course there’s the correlation of newness to innovation, which isn’t inherently wicked. Changes that improve our quality of life, or that address pressing environmental and social ills can’t be knocked. So yes, a solar-powered vehicle, biodegradable packing, fuel or plastic alternatives offer new ways to address old problems. But is there any merit in a single-use cup / straw / water bottle / belly button fluff remover. Which makes me wonder – whatever happened to all those fidget spinners? Here one day, conquering the pre-teen market, and now?
Since I started working at Mungo, I’m proud to show off the work that we do. I explain to friends and family about the commitment to quality, the driving force of sustainability and the architecturally astounding weaving mill in Plettenberg Bay where Mungo textiles are made.
But it always comes back to a single question.
“So how much for a Mungo towel?”
When I reveal the price there’s often a quick in breath. Sometimes a silence.
Recently at an evening out I was asked about the cost of Mungo bed linen – one of the higher ticket items. I explained that linen threads are time-consuming to produce. That flax produces fibres that are inelastic and difficult to weave with. That its cultivation is limited geographically, requiring a cool climate and moist soil – hence why most has to be imported from Western Europe. Although cultivating linen involves a more toilsome process, the final product is of heirloom quality. The finished feel is unmatched – light yet strong, crisp yet soft.
It comes back to the need to better understand all the forces that wove your product into existence. The soil. The seed. The farmer. The combing, spinning, reeling, drying and dyeing. The warpers, weavers, cutters and finishers. There are many hands at play.
So the truth is that yes, your Mungo might cost you a bit more than what you’d find at a big chain retailer. But Mungo doesn’t compromise on the cost or quality of the raw materials, the treatment or wages of the staff, the working conditions, or the work of their CSR, just to drive down the price or compete with cheaper imports.
Taking a moment to edit my thoughts, I came across an Instagram post:
“Maybe we should stop asking why real food is so expensive and start asking why processed food is so cheap?”
Which brings this set of arguments to a head: that all production comes at a cost. It’s just about deciding which one you value more – the human cost or the one on your swing tag.
So this festive season, how about gifting something that lasts a lifetime (if not at least several years).
Or better yet, just write them a heartfelt card, and stamp it with a kiss.
Read next: Behind the Seams | The Hidden Cost of Fast Fashion
