A man is truly ethical only when he obeys the compulsion to help all life which he is able to assist, and shrinks from injuring anything that lives. —Albert Schweitzer
I had a wardrobe crisis occur a couple of weeks ago. I looked down at my shoes, the one pair of black, slip-resistant shoes I’ve worn every day for over a year and a half, and saw a hole. I knew what was coming next. Because of the unbalanced nature of my walk, the right shoe always wears a hole in the same place: the inside seam where the upper meets the sole. Every time. The hole starts small enough but expands quickly and is not repairable. I was going to have to buy new shoes.
I hate having to buy clothes. I especially dislike having to buy new clothes as long as there is a reasonable and ethical alternative. Shoes, however, are the one thing I’ve learned to buy new, and to spend a little money. Sure, I could go to a discount shoe place and get a pair for$20, but I’m lucky if those last six months. I want a pair of shoes that lasts at least a year, longer if I don’t wear them every day. Shoes are a justifiable expense. Sort of. I still look for sales and ended up actually purchasing two pair so that neither wears out quite so quickly. I shouldn’t have to buy shoes again for at least three-four years.
That logic doesn’t apply to everything in my wardrobe, though. There is very little in my wardrobe that is less than five years old. I have a couple of sweaters that I’ve retired after 15 years of wearing and washing. About half the black shirts I wear every day are over ten years old. When I do occasionally need to replace one, thrift stores make more sense than do department or fast fashion stores. By shopping for previously worn clothes, I’m keeping something out of a landfill, which is often as much as 30% discarded clothing. It’s an ethical thing for me, not really a standard to which I hold anyone else.
If you’ve seen me, you know my personal style is not exactly on-trend. I soon could be, perhaps. Marc Jacobs has officially declared 1980s retro back in style. The problem with that, on a personal level, is that I’m about 436 sizes larger now than I was in the 80s. Even if I still had all those stylish (cough-cough) threads from back then, there’s no way that I would still be able to fit my ample dad body into clothes that did a good job of making my butt look almost attractive (something that was much more a concern then than it is now). Does that mean I can ethically justify buying new clothes that look like the clothes I wore 30 years ago? Probably not.
Having an ethical wardrobe is more important to me than having a stylish ensemble for every day. There are multiple reasons for holding that view, but fundamental to that reasoning is that I don’t want to get dressed every morning knowing that what I’m wearing was assembled by a child in Bangladesh who is thrilled to be making $73 a month and is using all that to help support his/her family. Yes, I really do think about those things in the dark at 4:00 AM. I’m also not a fan of adding to Amancio Ortega’s $57 billion empire (he own’s Zara, among other fashion-related things). I’m especially not a fan of ripping off designers, which is what fast fashion retailers do on a daily basis.
The ethical implications of what I have in my closet are significant. I’m not ignorant of the ethical challenges that occur in the fashion world. I know that what I buy individually, while it may seem small and insignificant on one level, becomes part of a greater whole. When I make a purchase, no matter where or what it is, I am aligning myself with a larger group of people making like-minded decisions and it is in the rise and fall of those groups from which trends are set. If I want to encourage a trend away from cheaply-sourced materials, then I have to refrain from buying cheaply sourced materials. Likewise, buying clothes manufactured in New York’s garment district, for example, encourages domestic production in an environment where workers are more likely to be treated fairly.
Still, if the 80s are indeed coming back … how do I not get in on some of that action? I felt good about my fashion choices back then. I had multiple pairs of Levi’s 501 jeans back then, and they were still being made in Northern California at the time. Levi’s has moved production south of the border though and I’m not sure one can even find 501 jeans in the store anymore. Shopping directly from Marc Jacob’s isn’t a financial option, either. How do I enjoy this momentary global lapse of stylish sanity while still holding to the ethical standards I’ve set for my wardrobe?
A couple of years ago, a Canadian artist, Sarah Lazarovic, wrote a book, A Bunch Of Pretty Things I Did Not Buy. This very interesting young woman went a full year without buying any new clothes. None. I know a lot of people who would begin to hyperventilate at the thought of going more than a week without making a new purchase of some kind. The book is quite interesting and, while everything she has to say may not align with someone else’s specific situation, she did come up with this interesting pyramid she calls the “buyerarchy of needs” to help one make a bit more sense of their fashion purchases. While she is not preaching a strict ethical behavior, the implications and applications are there. Take a look:
The concept is pretty straight forward. Buying something new should be the last option. Using what you have, perhaps even repurposing what you have, should be where we all start. There’s no good reason why we should be completely turning over our wardrobes every few months. If you’re looking at a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing, consider borrowing from someone who’s already been there. Kat and her friends swap clothes back and forth, both adult and children’s. Thrift, and I would add Vintage, shopping are my personal preference (though, I would warn, not everything in a vintage shop is necessarily original from that period). Making things yourself is one of those things that varies from person to person. I’m useless in that department.
Does that mean that I still don’t watch labels for where garments are made? No, not at all. Even when I’m thrift or vintage shopping I still look at labels and avoid those I know are unethically sourced. But, following the precepts of this pyramid brings us a lot closer to having an ethical wardrobe than we might achieve on our own.
Again, the standards I set for myself are not necessarily applicable to anyone else. You have to decide for yourself whether an ethical approach to shopping is even a concern. But for me, whether I’m buying a new pair of shoes or a t-shirt to replace the one that just disintegrated in the wash, how I shop matters. A lot.
The Sexy Party Is Real
Warning: Explicit Content
In life, you have people that love to party. That’s me. People that love God. That’s me. People that love sex. That’s me. People that love people. That’s me. And people that make mistakes. That’s me also. —R. Kelly
The sexy party you dreamed about is real, but chances are you’re not invited
Update: The response to our application took a bit more than the 48 hours advertised, but late last evening the email finally came through:
Your subscription has been updated, and you can log in by going to http://litterbox.killingkittens.com/(deleted for privacy)
We are quite surprised! We’re definitely not members of high society and if they were checking our bank balance they were almost certainly disappointed. This makes us wonder exactly what their criteria for membership are? If we can get approved I wouldn’t expect the bar to be set too terribly high. Although, at the same time, it may simply be that they don’t have many members from this part of the country and are looking to grow. That would rather make sense to some degree, I suppose.
What I do know is that there were several hits on this website (particularly this story) from London and New York shortly after it was published. I’m guessing that they looked at our photography page as well, though both of our personal pages are locked down and private. Did they talk to our friends? Did they confirm employment? Did they do any kind of background check? If so, no one has told us.
So, we’ll continue and see what happens. Should we find out more, we will most certainly let you know!
Here’s the original story:
Yes, that’s really explicit.
No, it’s not who you think it is.
No, it’s not them, either (whoever “them” may be). Just stop trying to guess. Identity is irrelevant in this situation. The picture is an illustration, an attempt to get your attention, as if the term “sexy party” didn’t have it already. The picture also defines the level of party we’re talking about. This gets deep so hold on and try to enjoy the ride.
Back in 1990, before many of you were even old enough to think of such things, Stanley Kubrick captured the world’s attention when he set the movie Eyes Wide Shut around an underground community of sensual desire involving luscious and lavish masked sex parties. That theme has been used and re-used hundreds if not thousands of times since then for masked, sexy parties, especially at night clubs in large cities where women wearing lingerie out for the night isn’t really all that big a deal.
If you tell me that you’ve not thought at least once about what it would be like to attend such a party, I’ll call you a liar. We all have. And I’ve even heard tell of a few instances where someone tried to re-create that masked party theme, but they were never as lavish (a warehouse as the location? C’mon …) and never quite as sexy (is there anyone here not using Viagra?) as one might imagine. Sexy parties the magnitude of those seen in Kubrick’s movie are so rare, so difficult to produce, that we’ve often wondered if they actually exist at all.
Apparently, they do. We just live in the wrong place to be invited to the party.
In the deluge of articles being thrown at me, I came across this one a couple of weeks ago with the intriguing headline: The Roving Sexy Party Coming To The Hamptons This Summer. Okay, a headline like that is going to get my attention every time. Although, there is a bit of immediate disappointment in that it mentions the Hamptons, that lovely summer homestead of the super-rich to which we mere mortals are not allowed access. Everything is gated. Everything is by invitation only. The Hamptons are not for we mortals. I’m not sure even Bernie Sanders can get in here.
What’s happening, though, is a coming to America of a British sex party concept that apparently has been working quite well across the pond. We’ve always suspected that those uptight Brits were a bit more cheeky than they let on and it would seem now that we have the proof.
The sponsoring organization has a rather morbid name, though, Killing Kittens certainly doesn’t sound sexy, and if it’s a party it doesn’t sound like the kind that is legal in the United States. But then, perhaps that’s part of the cover. Who would think to go looking for an underground event with a name that invokes feline homicide? The actual events, though, do not involve the harming of any animals, except for maybe your boyfriend.
When I went searching for more information about these parties (because, you know, journalistic curiosity and all that) I found the explanation on their Facebook page (yeah, that’s really underground) more helpful than anything on their website. It reads, in part:
Killing Kittens was launched in 2005 to both address and grow the demand from young, attractive, charismatic couples and single girls for decadent, hedonistic, female focused parties.
Killing Kittens parties create an environment for people, especially girls, to explore their sexuality in a daring yet safe and controlled environment without the seediness associated with the traditional ‘scene’. The parties are held at intriguing and glamorous international locations; from a New York penthouse to a yacht in St. Tropez. They have attracted the rich and famous and generated immense media excitement as being at the centre of the world’s newest and coolest underground party scene. Marie Claire declared that Killing Kittens has now become synonymous with the world’s ‘sexual elite’.
Again, I’m not so convinced about this whole “underground” thing if Out, The Cut, and Marie Claire all know about it. Those are not exactly low-circulation rags, there, ya’ know? If everyone knows about the parties, are they still “underground?”
What’s interesting, and likely most attractive about the Killing Kittens parties is that they are female-focused. In fact, the whole company is owned by one Emma Sayle, a British socialite who just happened to go to the same school as the Duchess of Cambridge. This gives the parties a very different edge from the pictures Kubrick planted in our minds. With the women in control, the party isn’t as likely to be as much of a sausage-fest, but it is also likely to be a bit more lively as women, especially those in the Hamptons, are still enamored with the S&M flurry started with Fifty Shades of Grey and now continued, so I’m told, with the HBO series Billionaire (I understand the 12th episode is where things get spicy). The parties are apparently popular among “pussy whisperers,” that is, women who have same gender flings just for the summer.
Yeah, let’s make that phrase go viral. Go ahead.
My curiosity not yet satiated (is it ever?), I visited the Killing Kittens website to see just how filthy rich one had to be to even join their little club. Turns out, it’s not all that expensive, at least not up front. Their basic membership is $15 (US) a month. They do have a free option, but that doesn’t include party invitations and without the party invitations what’s the point? They also offer a special designation for those over 45, if one wishes to make that disclosure. That doesn’t seem all that exclusive, does it?
So, I went ahead and signed us up for a couples membership just to see what would happen. The first step was rather straight-forward personal information like one would find on any dating site: age, height, body type, religious preference, drinking, smoking, etc. They encourage uploading pictures for the vetting process and promise that those pictures will be kept private. Nothing unusual, nothing overtly erotic, and nothing expressly limiting that would have me bailing out and running in fear of my life. Yet.
I’m betting that the vetting process will somehow eliminate us from consideration. Hell, this article is likely to eliminate us from consideration; it’s not like I’m hiding what I write. Still, the more insight we can get into this allegedly underground playground for the super-rich, the more we can stoke our own dreams of perhaps one day being elite enough to attend one of these oh-so-exclusive parties.
Not that we would know what to do once we got there. Nope, not us. Not a clue. Totally innocent here. Totally. This is just journalistic curiosity. I promise.
Or maybe we just have our own party. I have ice cream. Vanilla.
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