In search of kids underwear you can feel good about
By a fine balance
by belinda ray
2007-04-03
Can anyone tell me where to find some ethical underwear?
No, not knickers that will help me make responsible choices. What I want is a pair of underwear that wasn’t stitched together by an 8-year-old girl in a windowless cinderblock building in an impoverished village in (insert developing country here), packaged with excessive amounts of cardboard and plastic and shipped to the USA to be sold for what to us may amount to a pittance, but is, in fact, more than the aforementioned 8-year-old girl is able to earn in an entire month. That kind of ethical underwear.
It’s surprisingly difficult to find, and I need some stat. Not for myself, mind you, although my undergarments are in an extremely sad state of disrepair; seams are fraying, waistbands are shredding, holes are developing in the most inopportune locations and underwires are taking on increasingly artistic, though painful, shapes. But no, the underwear I seek is not for me.
As a mother, I will continue to wear my dingy unmentionables until they virtually disintegrate mid-wear, so that some night when I go to remove them, they will simply no longer be there — not even one CSI-sized fiber leftover to place them at the crime scene. My children, however, unlike me, have needs which must be addressed, and they’ve hit another growth spurt, which means new everything must be obtained.
Of course, shirts, jeans, sweaters, etc. can be found aplenty at secondhand shops (where we try to purchase the majority of our clothing in order to reduce our impact on the environment). Underwear, on the other hand, comes into our lives fresh and new, never before touched (except by the original stitcher and Inspector #12) and is far too often produced in countries with which we are unfamiliar and companies whose business practices we question.
The latest bloomers I bought featured Star Wars characters (including an adorable pair that says “Wookies” right across the butt) and were purchased at a big box store that shall remain nameless. I hate to shop in these places, hate to make these sorts of purchases, but what is the alternative?
As far as I know, there aren’t any local shops that even carry boys’ briefs, and online, though I found a few sites that offer sweatshop-free tees and casual wear, no one seems to be in the business of stitching together ethical intimates for kids.
Perhaps I should start my own company: Eco-undies or Green-briefs. Of course, if my boys would just consent to wear boxers, I could easily make them myself, so perhaps I should get out the sewing machine and force the issue. If I don’t find an alternative soon — something that doesn’t make me feel like I’m purchasing the breathable cotton equivalent of a blood diamond — I might need to go that route. But in the meantime, I’ll try to keep smiling as I pull the Jedi undies out of the dryer, secure in the knowledge that most of our other clothing, at least, is sweat free.
Belinda Ray is a homeschooling mother and freelance writer who finds time to write when her children and their friends have lightsaber battles in the yoga room (but only if the laundry is already folded and everyone’s been fed).
No, not knickers that will help me make responsible choices. What I want is a pair of underwear that wasn’t stitched together by an 8-year-old girl in a windowless cinderblock building in an impoverished village in (insert developing country here), packaged with excessive amounts of cardboard and plastic and shipped to the USA to be sold for what to us may amount to a pittance, but is, in fact, more than the aforementioned 8-year-old girl is able to earn in an entire month. That kind of ethical underwear.
It’s surprisingly difficult to find, and I need some stat. Not for myself, mind you, although my undergarments are in an extremely sad state of disrepair; seams are fraying, waistbands are shredding, holes are developing in the most inopportune locations and underwires are taking on increasingly artistic, though painful, shapes. But no, the underwear I seek is not for me.
As a mother, I will continue to wear my dingy unmentionables until they virtually disintegrate mid-wear, so that some night when I go to remove them, they will simply no longer be there — not even one CSI-sized fiber leftover to place them at the crime scene. My children, however, unlike me, have needs which must be addressed, and they’ve hit another growth spurt, which means new everything must be obtained.
Of course, shirts, jeans, sweaters, etc. can be found aplenty at secondhand shops (where we try to purchase the majority of our clothing in order to reduce our impact on the environment). Underwear, on the other hand, comes into our lives fresh and new, never before touched (except by the original stitcher and Inspector #12) and is far too often produced in countries with which we are unfamiliar and companies whose business practices we question.
The latest bloomers I bought featured Star Wars characters (including an adorable pair that says “Wookies” right across the butt) and were purchased at a big box store that shall remain nameless. I hate to shop in these places, hate to make these sorts of purchases, but what is the alternative?
As far as I know, there aren’t any local shops that even carry boys’ briefs, and online, though I found a few sites that offer sweatshop-free tees and casual wear, no one seems to be in the business of stitching together ethical intimates for kids.
Perhaps I should start my own company: Eco-undies or Green-briefs. Of course, if my boys would just consent to wear boxers, I could easily make them myself, so perhaps I should get out the sewing machine and force the issue. If I don’t find an alternative soon — something that doesn’t make me feel like I’m purchasing the breathable cotton equivalent of a blood diamond — I might need to go that route. But in the meantime, I’ll try to keep smiling as I pull the Jedi undies out of the dryer, secure in the knowledge that most of our other clothing, at least, is sweat free.
Belinda Ray is a homeschooling mother and freelance writer who finds time to write when her children and their friends have lightsaber battles in the yoga room (but only if the laundry is already folded and everyone’s been fed).