Novelty

Hi friends! Everything is awry. I caught COVID without going anywhere. My keyboard is broken, so everything takes 3x as long to write. I am searching everywhere for the kind of return-to-productivity spirit that I was expecting to be imbued with at midnight on January first, like the transformation scene in Cinderella, and…. it didn’t happen. I feel the same as I did at 11:59 pm, which is largely sleepy, stir-crazy and a bit vitamin-D deficient.

Over the last few weeks we have lost so many cultural luminaries, and while I’m not firmly tethered to the zeitgeist I do feel the weight of these significant losses, especially when placed next to what their potential replacements would be. When such voluminous presences leave earth, it’s akin to when you’re jumping on the same trampoline as someone bigger than you, and you have to kind of reel it in while they fly up so that you don’t get thrown entirely off by the weight of their departure. I’m just trying to stay close to the ground right now on this very *eventful* trampoline, looking for my next opportunity to jump. 

And with that graceful metaphor, I seamlessly segue into what I wanted us to think about with this issue, which is: Novelty. 

There are two major lanes to sustainability; first is materials, things like the Re:down or Pinatex whose conception as a solution is inspired by improving the existing options for production by replacing or crowding out the more pollutive or harmful alternatives.

The second, and perhaps arguably even more important, is systems. Systems design is what inspires innovative materials in the first place, and systems themselves are what often perpetuate the most harm in the long term, because materials in the end are just an element, whereas systems are a philosophical way of operating.

The example I would offer for this is that Shein, everyone’s least favorite lightning-fast-fashion retailer, has started using recycled polyester in some of its products, and surely that is meant to mean something by how proudly they advertise this. But until they address their carbon footprint, excess production, slave labor practices and a litany of other system-wide operational practices, no level of innovative material will impact the destruction they bring to the planet.

So, if we can make a bigger impact with system design than with only materials, what can we philosophically address within those systems that will significantly change the direction we are leading the planet? Dear reader, I have thought long and hard about this recently, and the answer I offer you is: Novelty.

Americans (and most of the Global North behind us) love novelty. We like new. We like things that give the feeling of luxury, but without the cost. Some examples of how we can increasingly woven novelty into the fabric of our every day lives over the last 20-50 years:

• I can buy strawberries at any time of year in nearly any grocery store in any part of the U.S., even though strawberries are naturally supposed to be harvested in June.

• If I order my favorite bagel sandwich from Baz right at this moment, touching my phone only four times, it will be at my door in 15 minutes.

• Luxury fashion houses, meant to be the peak aspiration of quality and rarity, now deliver on the same contemporary calendar and cadence that the L.A. denim market used in 2005. 

• If I order the most expensive piece of clothing* on Net-a-porter before 10 a.m. (I won’t, just because I’m soooo busy!), it will be hand-delivered to me by 5 p.m. today. 

I am old enough to remember when all of the above - except perhaps for evergreen strawberries - became a novelty, and while there are lots of conveniences that stand to improve the lives of many, most of these novelties are completely excessive, unnecessary, and perhaps most importantly, have become the baseline expectation of most Americans. We have set a new standard of unrealistic expectations, and because we are humans we stand to only push these standards even further as we become inured to the current ones.  

With each push to make novelty a baseline convenience, we get lazier, dumber, worse at solving problems, worse at planning ahead, worse at considering each other (strangers included). 

And the novelty becomes less thrilling, inspires less serotonin, and is forgotten more quickly before we move on to the next novelty. 

Retailers crowd stores with seasonal merchandise months in advance of the season, then mark it down before the season has truly begun, then disappear unsold goods into a black box to make room for next seasons yet-unwearable goods. The industry initiative created at the start of the pandemic to address this calendar, #rewiring fashion, largely disappeared from conversation once retailers saw customers return to their regular shopping habits, and I have not heard it mentioned in more than a year. 

And the cost of this novelty - from the timeline to the materials to the labor needed to execute it - is human life, animal life, nature, and our collective future, but it also has further reaching ramifications than this because this convenient novelty is conditioning us to care less and less every day about what we consume, how, and why.

So my community challenge for us in this letter is to collectively reimagine the design of a system that places novelty above all else. Surely, the value of removing novelty needs to be constantly explained, communicated. The value proposition of a systemwide improvement needs buy-in, needs advocacy, needs explaining. 

But we can get there, yeah?

*This was the first and only time I have ever used the “sort by: Price High to Low” button and it was actually quite fun

Last weekend on Instagram, I crowd-sourced ideas for little acts of kindness we can show friends and strangers during These Dark Times™, and boy did everyone deliver.  Leandra suggested including them in this newsletter, and truly who am I to say no? Here is our amazing, uplifting, crowdsourced list of things to do for your friends, loved ones and strangers when you’d like to show them some loving care:

• A drizzly.com delivery of a bottle of wine (they also sell gift certificates)

• A fruit delivery box from Rincon Tropics

• Food or food assembly kits from Goldbelly

• A Venmo that covers a lunch or coffee for the day, inspired by Rachel Cargle’s #FriendcareFridays

• Babysitting for a few hours or for a night, so your friend can get out without their kids

• Tonics and supplements from Anima Mundi

• A virtual tarot reading, my favorite reader is Rose Garcia

• A phone visit with a good conversation or vent session

• Playlists! Remember mix-tapes??

• A gift certificate for a massage (if this was Zagat the symbol here would be $$$)

• A care package of Ghia for your non-alcoholic friends

• A package of sheet masks and kombucha 

• Order delivery to their house for dinner

• Make and deliver soup, don’t ask if they want or need soup just do it

• Send handmade Valentine’s Day cards

• Send them a letter so that their mailbox is not just bills and junk 

• The gift of sleeping in (the *dream* of sleeping in!)

• Bake banana bread and deliver it as a surprise

• Make frozen cookie dough balls and a few fresh baked cookies and deliver it

• Send candles or a bouquet that matches their taste

• Something directly from your garden like veggies, flowers, or a baby plant

• Sending ice cream

• If you know your friend’s kid is isolated with COVID, a package of toys or distractions

• Pho and flowers :)

• A virtual lunch date to break up the monotony of WFH

• Little things around the house like sharpening knives or replacing watch batteries

• A book that made you think of them (I like Bookshop.org which funnels orders to indie bookshops)

• Share your Bouqs.com subscription with your friends

• Jazz up thrift store finds and share them with your friends

• One respondent messaged me to say that she lost her husband last summer, and when people were delivering or sending thoughtful gifts, what she appreciated most were the ones that required minimal unpacking, managing of packaging, etc. Such an important thing to remember that the experience of receiving the gift can often be as impactful as the gift itself. 

Thanks for being here.