LJ Idol - 3 Strikes - Cheugy

[ofearthandstars]

The below is an entry for Week 17 of therealljidol. 

Coral started as an idea, held only in the mind of her Creator, hastily scratched out on a cloth-paper napkin with a ball-point pen in one hand, a glass of vintage chardonnay in the other. Later, she found herself tweaked on ancient newsprint, reborn in three separate visions in charcoal, before her final form was revealed, digital and flawless, in Adobe Illustrator. The Creator sifted through fabric samples, running their fingers over expensive laser cut cottons, fringed chiffons, and embroidered lace, before finally pausing and tapping a thin, thoughtful finger against a bolt of pale pink-orange quality polyester. Coral shimmered with anticipation.

 Soon Coral moved from a full color print on Bristol board to something more three-dimensional, as the Creator pinned fabric to the dress form, and deftly sewed each seam. Coral felt herself coming into shape, the Creator’s breath against her own softness as she was breathed into life. As she became whole, the Creator stepped back and smiled, the sewing needle tucked haphazardly between their lips falling to the Earth. Coral swelled with pride, her tiny gold beads glistening and her soft folds flowing around the headless form.

In the coming days, Coral found herself transferred from the dress form onto the slight frame of a youthful mortal. She knew it was a special occasion, as the world around her was filled with mortals gayly dressed in bright colors and caught up in flashing lights, as if a great storm had descended upon a summer garden. Yet the mortals laughed and chattered, clinking glasses and making polite noises, allowing their bodies to vibrate and fall to the pulse of loud music. Coral waited and was rewarded with a pinnacle moment as her mortal transported them both down a long, straight runway flooded with lights. The room thundered with applause and the thrumming beats of background music. As her mortal spun and turned, Coral flowed and swung about her gracefully. In the audience, Coral could feel her Creator, and knew she was content.

Much later that evening, Coral was returned to the dress form, but she overheard the orders flowing in, and once again was filled with pride. She exulted over the excitement and happiness she brought to the voice of her Creator. She knew and understood that elsewhere in the world, Others were being made in her image. Many would not made with the same high-quality fabric and care of her Creator, but were mirrors and imitations inspired by her, Coral.

The next day, Coral was hung on a rack in the Creator’s design room, and taking her place among the fine frocks there, she felt a tiny bit of dismay as she realized the Creator was moving on to other dreams and visions. But Coral knew, too, she was in the dreams of others. She tried to be content.

~~~

Iha was nearing the end of her shift, her eyes burning beneath the fluorescent lights as she stared at the fabric running warp speed between her fingers. The industrial sewing machine chomped away at the cheap polyblend, and her job was to ensure the seams were perfect as she maneuvered the cloth seams through special cuts and turns. She worked hard to focus, but it was hard due to the burning pain between her shoulder blades. She knew that if she slipped or faltered, it would only slow down her work and create more trouble, or worse, could potentially maim her. She expected that the shift would be extended, as it often was, and based on the large men guarding the door, she only hoped that it would translate into an extra rupee that she could take home to her father. Iha smiled at the thought of home, and the chana masala and rice that would greet her, as she expertly turned the fabric under her palms.

As she finished her task, Iha quietly escorted the partially stitched garment to the next station, where a girl near her own age would begin the beadwork. She watched as the girl stuck a scarred hand into a tub of plastic microbeads and squinted to place the beads around the needle in the poor lighting. Realizing she would be called out if she stood too long, Iha turned and hurried back to her own station. She looked toward the end of the line, where the finished dresses were hung and swung along a mechanized arm. Dozens of pink-orange dresses glittered and glowed beneath the fluorescent lights as they rocked and tilted along the process line, like an army of angry princesses. Iha wondered about the color, which reminded her of the wild coral trees that grew outside of town. Mother called them sunshine trees.

Iha glanced at the door and the men again as she took her place and grabbed more cut-outs, but inwardly she longed to see the sky and feel the warm sun.

~~~

Roberta grimaced as she began opening the boxes in the stock room, using the boxcutter tied to her waist to quickly slice through the thick layers of tape and rip the cardboard apart. Inside were the latest designs, although it hardly seemed a week since Felicia, her manager, had directed everyone to pulled down the old merchandise and put out the new spring fashions. Roberta noted the layers of plastic inside the box and ripped them aside, tossing them towards the giant recycling bin where they would most likely meet other trash. Between the layers she found the new party dresses, their brilliant pink-peach hues erupting as she hauled them out one by one. She shook them gently, locating their tags and hanging them on a rolling rack to all face the same direction. Roberta recalled seeing something like them in one of her mother’s fashion mags, but she couldn’t remember which one, or even the designer. She wondered if it would look good on her, and lightly touched the badge on her lanyard, thinking about her employee discount. She was supposed to be saving her paychecks for tuition next semester, still, the desire to have something cute and fashionable still lingered. Out on the sale floor, young teens rushed from rack to rack giggling and posing, barely able to hear themselves over the music station that Felicia had turned to top volume. Roberta watched a group of them search ruthlessly through the clearance racks before walking out the door. She sighed and grabbed the rolling rack before launching herself towards the front. “Good luck selling,” she grumbled to her rack, knowing that its contents would be replaced in a matter of weeks. Those that didn’t sell would turn up in an outlet, maybe even cheaper, and Roberta didn’t much care what happened after that.

~~~

Raven hated… haaaattttteeed… cleaning out her closet. But Mom was on her ass again about the state of her room, and she knew damn well that the closet couldn’t handle anything more until she’d made some hard decisions. Raven piled her dark hair on top of her head into a loose bun and cranked up her music. She surveyed the closet carefully, trying to figure out what could be reused or restyled with her new purchases, and what was now an offense to G-d herself. She gingerly began plucking out long sweaters and skinny jeans and started her piles: toss, donate, keep. At the far edges of her closet, she found the coral party dress from H&M that she’d worn to Kadie’s wedding at the beginning of last summer. She sneered at its gauche beading and bright color before dumping it in the donation pile – she had a dozen other dresses that wore better, and she wouldn’t have to cover them with a jacket to stay trendy. When she was finished, she threw everything into a black plastic bag.

“Mooooom,” she yelled over her stereo and across the house. “You can drop these off at the charity shop on your next trip!”

~~~

Stephen sighed and swore lightly underneath his breath at the sight of the drop-off bay. The store had been closed all day Sunday, which appeared to be the locals’ favorite day to leave their bags and boxes outside the back door. He didn’t quite understand it, as they were never given a donation receipt that way, but he’d learned that what they desired most was getting their crap out of their sight. Since a line of storms had moved through the previous afternoon, most of the boxes and bags were soaking wet. He took a swig of coffee and grudgingly began the task of shaking water off of things – most of which would have to be thrown out now due to mildew or mold. This was his most hated part of the job, handling often wet, torn, or musty “goods” that were supposed to help the less fortunate. The carelessness of the donors in dropping off ruined items - or letting them be ruined in a surefire summer storm - fractured his faith in humanity. Luckily, some of the bags were situated beneath others and less water-logged. As he moved through the pile, he dumped the contents that were salvageable into a large grey bin.

As the bin filled, Stephen turned through its clothing and cast-offs a final time, verifying that there was nothing else that needed to be taken straight to the dumpster. He paused at the brightness of a shimmery orange-pink dress that stood out from the rest, noticing a rip along the side seam. It was a junior’s dress, a population known to be highly avoidant of thrift stores, but he knew their mothers shopped in their spare time. Tired of the wastefulness, he decided it might be found capable of redemption by someone, if only as a costume, and left it be. When the bin was buried beneath clothes that he thought could be sold within 4 weeks, he wheeled it towards the back and gave it to Lucy, who would sort everything by type, color, and size before hanging it on the overflowing racks of the sales floor.

~~~

Kwesi waited alongside the other traders to bid on the latest shipment of from the West. Towering bales of fabric, covered in a thin sheen of plastic, were slowly pulled from a flatbed truck. Kwesi eyeballed the bales and identified a marker in the few he intended to buy for resell. Sometimes it was the peek of a sports jersey or a brilliant red button-up that caught his eye - his people loved color. But all of the bales were packed indiscriminately, so he would get a mix of men’s, women’s, and children’s clothing, as well as random household fabrics. Some of them his family could help to freshen and upcycle with dyes, others would be a complete waste and have to be resold as filler for furniture, or sent to the landfill.

As the auction started, Kwesi threw up his clipboard to signal to the auctioneer for the bales he wanted, being cautious to not go beyond the amount he’d promised his wife, Akuba, that morning. At the end, he ended up with three bales, as there were so many clothes the trader only wanted to be rid of them. So much came now, most of the resellers had little to bicker over, and much to throw away. It had become such a problem that he sometimes could only sell items for only 1 cedi, bringing in a paltry income. He thought of the landfill, where mountains of the obroni wawu lay in the open-air, some partially burned, and some unable to burn or degrade due to the use of cheap synthetic fabrics and plastics. He frowned at the thought.

With assistance, Kwesi loaded the bales, and headed back towards the market where his wife and daughters were already working with customers. When he arrived, Zuhrah, his youngest, helped him to unload and begin to separate the bales. The clothes smelled faintly chemical, due to a spray used to deter mold during shipment. The family carefully began to arrange the new clothing around their stall, laying the pieces in piles on blankets over the concrete. Customers milled about as they worked, bending down to pick through the clothing, and occasionally chatting up Akuba to haggle a price.

“Agya,” Zuhrah called out to her father excitedly, motioning him to come over to where she was pulling items out of a bale.

Kwesi smiled as he approached. His daughter was now 15, and a good worker, but she still occasionally squealed like a kitten.

“Agya, may I keep this one?” Zuhrah asked, her hands clutching a shimmery coral dress to her chest.

Kwesi looked carefully at the dress. He could probably sell it to a customer with more income than himself easily. But then he noticed the tear in the side seam, and pointed it out to Zuhrah.

“Are you going to mend it, then?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Zuhrah said. “The color is like the sunrise.”

“That it is,” Kwesi agreed. He looked at his daughter and the piles of clothing around them. He knew the dress would be beautiful on her and bring her joy. “You know it will have to come out of your paycheck.”

“Of course, Ayga,” Zuhrah replied, though her warm brown eyes shined brightly.

Kwesi caught her up in a small hug, before reminding her that she was there to work, not shop. She laughed and nodded, tucking the dress in a small bag.

As he walked away, Kwesi thought of the joy in his daughter’s eyes. He did not plan to actually take any money from her paycheck. Some things, he knew, were more valuable than profit.

~~~

A world away, in a dark closet in Milan, Coral sighed and tried to be content.

---

Notes: This week's prompt inspired me to think about consumer culture and the fast fashion industry, which is rife with environmental and human rights concerns. You can learn more at earth.org and humanrightsinfashion.org, including how the export of used clothing harms other countries, such as Ghana. It's okay to stay cheugy, my friends!

Comments

[mollywheezy]

I liked your take on the prompt! Excellently written! :)

[ofearthandstars]

Thank you! My inner environmentalist/social justice nerd needed to have her say this week!

[marlawentmad]

YES! I thought about this often as I chewed on the prompt. I am really glad you illuminated the many stages of the fast fashion trend industry.

[ofearthandstars]

Thank you!

[drippedonpaper]

Wow, you wrote the entry I couldn't find a great way to articulate. I really love this1 And this is also ...I couldn't find the right words, but this is part of why I ..almost don't believe in being in style? It's so sad how fast fashion takes advantage of the workers.

I really love how you made it the story of the dress and how you communicate all the emotions of the people who encounter her and love and then discard the dress.

It reminded me a lot of a dress I own actually. I will just send you the photo of it on FB if you are interested. Great job. I really, really love this entry!

[ofearthandstars]

Awh, you're very sweet, but I loved your entry...and great minds think alike! :D I admit, I do struggle sometimes. I've been thinking lately that I need to go out and buy some new clothes that actually fit well, and aren't suffering from either bleach spots (from cleaning the bathrooms) or other tiny holes or things that just happen to clothes over time. I haven't really bought much beyond yoga pants/loose shirts in the past couple of years, and that was to try to keep myself motivated to exercise. I did glean a few "new" pieces from our local Buy Nothing group, which shares boxes of clothing from time to time, and have passed off some things of mine that just no longer worked for me. Every once in a while, I wonder if treating myself to some new stuff could be excused as self-care, as I also think there is something to finding pieces of clothing or adornments that bring you joy. (But also, when I am also struggling with body issues, it can be hard to find anything that brings me joy.) So, yeah...anyway, in writing it I just had the thoughts of how the entire industry is exploitative/wasteful, and yet there are also all the ways that creating and/or having something we find beautiful can make us feel, and so it's much more complicated than that.

Anyway, thank you for the photo of the dress! I tried to leave the interpretation of what the dress actually looked like, beyond color, a bit open so that others could imagine what they would enjoy!

[stellinas]

Wonderful,original take on a tricky prompt this week, what an imaginative path you took with it,enjoyed it so much xx

[ofearthandstars]

Thank you very much, I'm so glad you enjoyed!!

[banana_galaxy]

I really appreciated the thoughtfulness that went into this. You know, the moment you used the name Kwesi, my mind went "Ghana." I have a Ghanian friend who, although used a Western-sounding name when we met, had changed part of it to Kwesi after a while (I'm not sure what his legal name actually is, and he's gone back to using the Western-sounding name). So I Googled the currency before I read your footnote that actually gave that confirmation too.

I have some clothes that are decades old. I don't really throw things out or donate them. Things only get thrown out when they've ripped and are beyond useable any more.

[ofearthandstars]

I think Ghana is one of the biggest recipients of secondhand clothing, so it made the most logical sense as the setting, especially given the concerns in recent years over the amount of non-biodegradable waste created, and how it's actually disrupted local textile and clothing markets. But I know it's definitely an issue for other countries too, I think I read there are some South American countries that feel similarly overrun with Western cast-offs.

I do try to keep clothes until they are no longer wearable, and I thrift alot, but I do admit that I still buy new on rare occasions - I do try to buy new things that are more lasting in terms of quality and style, but since I'm pretty out of touch with what's "fashionable", I can never be sure. I do my best to try to just wear what is comfortable and feels good.

[banana_galaxy]

I wasn't aware of that, so you certainly shed some light on this topic for me. I think countries in Asia (Malaysia especially?) have gotten tired of the West shipping their plastics recycling off to them, which sounds like a similar issue. There's a lot of this sort of thing that needs to be rethought how we deal with it all, because unmitigated consumerism has become an ecological nightmare.

I've never made conscious choices on what fashion to buy based on environmental concerns. What I buy (whether thrifting or at a regular store) is usually about cost and comfort. Fashion trends haven't been an interest in mine, which I recognise now might be at least partly because of autistic sensory concerns.

[ofearthandstars]

Yes! That is the case in some places. For example, I read that Rwanda banned imports of used clothing. There's an interesting article from Vogue, of all places, of how the U.S. bullied other countries in the EAC into rescinding a plan for a ban, and only Rwanda stood its ground. In short, while some counties have tried to push back, the U.S. and Europe have used other trade agreements or threatened to implement higher duties on that country's imports/exports as negotiating tactics to get their way. Apparently there is also now a huge influx of secondhand clothes from China as well, that adds to this issue.

[roina_arwen]

Very creative, and I love the use of the dress and the fashion world and consumerism tying it all together!

[ofearthandstars]

Thank you! It was both fun and sobering to think about what a global impact the fashion industry has.

[bleodswean]

Wow. This is wrenching. I love the way you put it together and it's very successful!

The drop-off section hit me hardest. We must must must do better when it comes to how we are ridding ourselves of waste and filling the world with it. It really shouldn't be this hard, this shameful, this disgusting. Some small towns have free bins at their community center that are separated usefully. I just don't know anymore. Other than responsible purchasing and slow fashion.

[ofearthandstars]

<3 Thank you! It is disheartening what the charity drop offs deal with - they often get lots of things that are too torn/stained/dirty to resell (they don't launder what they put out), and then often it is ruined, too, by being left out. Usually employees just have too much to deal with. Learning this made me a lot more careful with the things I donate/pass along. I think the best we can do is to try to stop contributing to the issue - buy less new, buy secondhand, upcycle existing items, or take items that need adjustment to a tailor. Of course, part of the problem with fast fashion is that, even though it's made to be affordable, so much of the clothes are now made so cheaply, they simply don't last very long. It's a hard issue to tackle.

[millysdaughter]

I love this.

[ofearthandstars]

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed!

[erulissedances]

I love your take on the fashion industry. It's so true, and people rarely think about it. You've really gone more in-depth than most ever thought about.

- Erulisse (one L)

[ofearthandstars]

Thank you! I kept thinking that there were things I didn't even get to cover! But I knew it would be even longer and I already felt like I was taking a risk with the length.

[dadi]

This is very very good. You caught the spirit of the fast-paced, superficial fashion industry so well!

[ofearthandstars]

Thank you for the kind words!