So I'm tooling around Buckhead (a neighborhood in Atlanta) the other day, after dropping my older daughter at an event, and I take a turn down some little side street (yes, I love side streets!) that I hadn't been on before and there, right in front of me, is Patagonia, the outdoor apparel and gear store about which I just read in the
Stonyfield Farm guy's book. {Pages 30-40 summarize the journey of eco-committed Patagonia-founder Yvon Chouinard).
I had never been in a Patagonia store before, and no wonder, because it turns out this odd, off-the-beaten-path location in a particularly tony part of town is the only one in all of the Southeast.
Looks like a regular mall store, really, at first. Not as down-to-earth and inviting as REI, for instance. But I persist, and walk around the store, touching the garments and awaiting the inevitable attack of the salespeople. Two strappingly handsome young guys appear at my side and we start to talk. I tell them I just read about Patagonia in the book and then I ask them the question that has been blazing in my mind ever since I read that Patagonia is such a great place for employees that for every job opening, it gets 700 applications.
"So, are you really as happy as you're made out to be?"
They both look at me a little funny, and one of them says, "You mean because we work here?"
"Yes," I answer. Oh, don't I have a way with handsome young men? This is why I spent almost every single Saturday night as a teenager watching Love Boat (which would explain why I shouted to my children when they were little and looking to me to entertain them, "Find something to do! I am not Julie McCoy, Cruise Director!")
The two guys look at each other for a second and then almost simultaneously answer something like, "Yeah, we are, actually. Patagonia is a truly great company."
Then the one guy adds, "But I only work here half the year."
"What do you do the other half?" I ask. Perhaps a student, I guess, inside.
"I lead Outward Bound expeditions."
Oh. Naturally.
Anyway, my stroll to the back of the store reveals a whole section devoted to activist information, books, even a big table for sitting and reading or perhaps having save-the-river-and-change-the-world meetings. I grab a handful of handouts and find myself knee-deep in
Patagonia activism and grant information. These folks live by their mission statement:
Build the best product, cause no unnecessary harm, use business to inspire and implement solutions to the environmental crisis.
I took one note during my walk through the store, the one I show in the photo above (and, by the way, that little round white imperfection on the dress on the right is called a hickey in "printing jargon" and most companies would toss that batch--it caught my eye, in a positive way, that Patagonia didn't).
Anyway, organic cotton items are consistently expensive. Patagonia, owner of Beneficial T's, North America's largest distributor of organic cotton T-shirt blanks, has some very cute organic cotton dresses in a handful of colors for 50 bucks each. Now, 50 bucks is not petty cash but it's not a fortune, either, when you consider the other organic cotton options in the marketplace right now. And at least it's from a company that donates 1% of sales (or more) to hundreds of grassroots environmental groups all over the world.
Patagonia brochures often include the line, "Lead an examined life." Its Environmental Initiatives 2007 brochure goes further:
1. Lead an examined life. (Know the consequences of our actions.)
2. Clean up our act. (Once we understand our actions, change them.)
3. Do our pennance. (Give back.)
4. Support civil democracy. (Activist groups on the front lines are the most effective agents of change.)
5. Influence other companies. (Lead by example.)
What a blueprint for businesses, and for individuals as well. What would happen if I approached my life as a business, and truly examined every single aspect of it for efficiency, effectiveness and adherence to my mission statement?
What mission stement?! I clearly need a mission statement.
All this happened before I made it back out the front door, waving goodbye to my handsome young friends and promising to return one day soon. And although I love the outdoors, I do have to be honest. Camping in my backyard kind of creeped me out, I get a little nervous by a dog off the leash, and I'm still trying to figure out how to use a compass. I'm not sure how much gear I'll be buying at Patagonia. But I am impressed with what I've discovered about the company. And I do like those little dresses.
So I'm tooling around Buckhead (a neighborhood in Atlanta) the other day, after dropping my older daughter at an event, and I take a turn down some little side street (yes, I love side streets!) that I hadn't been on before and there, right in front of me, is Patagonia, the outdoor apparel and gear store about which I just read in the Stonyfield Farm guy's book. {Pages 30-40 summarize the journey of eco-committed Patagonia-founder Yvon Chouinard).
I had never been in a Patagonia store before, and no wonder, because it turns out this odd, off-the-beaten-path location in a particularly tony part of town is the only one in all of the Southeast.
Looks like a regular mall store, really, at first. Not as down-to-earth and inviting as REI, for instance. But I persist, and walk around the store, touching the garments and awaiting the inevitable attack of the salespeople. Two strappingly handsome young guys appear at my side and we start to talk. I tell them I just read about Patagonia in the book and then I ask them the question that has been blazing in my mind ever since I read that Patagonia is such a great place for employees that for every job opening, it gets 700 applications.
"So, are you really as happy as you're made out to be?"
They both look at me a little funny, and one of them says, "You mean because we work here?"
"Yes," I answer. Oh, don't I have a way with handsome young men? This is why I spent almost every single Saturday night as a teenager watching Love Boat (which would explain why I shouted to my children when they were little and looking to me to entertain them, "Find something to do! I am not Julie McCoy, Cruise Director!")
The two guys look at each other for a second and then almost simultaneously answer something like, "Yeah, we are, actually. Patagonia is a truly great company."
Then the one guy adds, "But I only work here half the year."
"What do you do the other half?" I ask. Perhaps a student, I guess, inside.
"I lead Outward Bound expeditions."
Oh. Naturally.
Anyway, my stroll to the back of the store reveals a whole section devoted to activist information, books, even a big table for sitting and reading or perhaps having save-the-river-and-change-the-world meetings. I grab a handful of handouts and find myself knee-deep in Patagonia activism and grant information. These folks live by their mission statement:
I took one note during my walk through the store, the one I show in the photo above (and, by the way, that little round white imperfection on the dress on the right is called a hickey in "printing jargon" and most companies would toss that batch--it caught my eye, in a positive way, that Patagonia didn't).
Anyway, organic cotton items are consistently expensive. Patagonia, owner of Beneficial T's, North America's largest distributor of organic cotton T-shirt blanks, has some very cute organic cotton dresses in a handful of colors for 50 bucks each. Now, 50 bucks is not petty cash but it's not a fortune, either, when you consider the other organic cotton options in the marketplace right now. And at least it's from a company that donates 1% of sales (or more) to hundreds of grassroots environmental groups all over the world.
Patagonia brochures often include the line, "Lead an examined life." Its Environmental Initiatives 2007 brochure goes further:
What a blueprint for businesses, and for individuals as well. What would happen if I approached my life as a business, and truly examined every single aspect of it for efficiency, effectiveness and adherence to my mission statement? What mission stement?! I clearly need a mission statement.
All this happened before I made it back out the front door, waving goodbye to my handsome young friends and promising to return one day soon. And although I love the outdoors, I do have to be honest. Camping in my backyard kind of creeped me out, I get a little nervous by a dog off the leash, and I'm still trying to figure out how to use a compass. I'm not sure how much gear I'll be buying at Patagonia. But I am impressed with what I've discovered about the company. And I do like those little dresses.