A Glass Half Full

I often find myself talking as if the glass were half empty. It gets rather annoying. Despite my rampant cynicism, however, there exists much in the world about which I am truly optimistic. Patagonia is one of those things.

I clearly recall that first encounter with one of their catalogs. The year was 1996, and I had just returned from a three month circumnavigation of the United States, a dirtbag exploration of the continent that included an excursion to Puerto Penasco, Mexico, and several frigid nights spent backpacking a section of the Appalachian Trail in Georgia. Signs of spring may have begun to appear in the south, but winter still maintained a firm grip on Missoula, Montana. After retrieving my wayward pack, which had gone errant somewhere along the bus route between Cincinnati and Chicago, I slogged through the snow up Rattlesnake Canyon to the house where my brother Jeb lived.

Thumbing through a copy of the company’s spring offering in his bedroom, I was struck by two things. The first was an extraordinary photograph of a climber performing a pinch grip front lever beneath a trailhead sign. The second was Patagonia’s announcement that their entire line of cotton clothing would be going organic.

Patagonia inspires me. Whether through the extremely motivational images contained within their catalogs or by their honest admissions about the unavoidable environmental cost of doing business, Patagonia provides me with exactly what I feel is so lacking in this world: something to believe in. To me, Patagonia isn’t just a clothing company. It’s a role model.

Patagonia is a throwback. Their aim is to make stuff that works, not stuff that sells. I bought my first Patagonia garment, an expedition weight Capilene pullover, in 1997. Twelve years later, it’s still goes in my pack on every outing.

The company’s commitment to conservation is unparalleled, yet they are the first to admit that they’re still a business and that everything comes at a price. In a post on the company’s blog The Cleanest Line, a member of their fabric development team is frank about the environmental expense of producing wetsuits. “Don’t settle for marketing “greenwash!”” the article cautions. A link from the Patagonia website leads visitors to the Footprint Chronicles, a mini-site where consumers can trace the journey of specific products and learn firsthand the environmental and social impacts of each purchase. Few companies seek to endow their customers with this level of accountability or exhibit such transparency.

Back in 1996, when Patagonia made the switch, they were one of the first firms to field an entire line of cotton clothing manufactured from organic fabric. They were at the vanguard of a movement, the goal of which was to reshape an industry. Other companies such as Sector 9 and Mission Playground have since followed suit, offering products today that allow consumers further opportunity to foster change through their choice in apparel.

Still clothing is only part of the equation. Patagonia’s whole approach is different. A careers page on their website claims Patagonia is always looking for motivated people to join the company ranks, especially if they share the firm’s love for outdoors, commitment to quality, and desire to make a difference. A paragraph at the bottom of the page reaffirms Patagonia’s ethic. “We work very hard to minimize our impacts on the environment, and we strongly believe that one person's actions can make a difference in the health of our environment,” it states. “In keeping with these values, we'd appreciate some sensitivity to environmental concerns in the preparation of your résumé materials. Please be environmentally responsible in the presentation of your information.”

It is a holistic approach that, to me, is captivating. It gives me pause, forcing me to reevaluate my own approach, my own route, my own line. Patagonia, I feel, is the corporate model of the future; industry that understands it has an obligation to seek ecologic integration as well as profit. It may still be business, but it’s business unusual.