c is for cat

Rules for Anchorites

Letters from Proxima Thule


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Here's local for real:

A friend of mine back in Tallahassee had a shirt she grew. (She really enjoyed telling people that; Tallahassee is a much less crafty area than your island, and spinners and weavers were fairly rare) She grew four colors of cotton (off-white, tan, two very distinct shades of green; it would have been more, but at the time she couldn't find red cotton seeds), picked it, ginned it (using her pasta machine; she published an article on how), carded it, spun it, wove it, and sewed it herself. That's local. And the only thing she paid for was the seeds. (You can actually get the pattern here -- the model isn't her, and the shirt isn't the one she made, though.)

She also kept sheep and goats for fiber, raised peacocks and chickens, had a clay oven she and her husband built out of clay dug from the side of the road, and of course kept a large garden -- while both she and her husband worked full time and she was in grad school (ok, she had worked at the university for a long time, and was taking grad school pretty slowly, and her degree was in textiles, and she got a bunch of credits for stuff she was doing anyway). It wasn't about locavorism, it was about doing stuff they loved. And they beat the hell out of this kind of trendy shit.

(Remarkable people. I miss them. They did things like things all the time.)

I'm with you. This isn't anything like being able to actually source clothing locally.

And snark: If the woman in the article were really serious about it, she could have raised the silkworms herself.

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