Sensible Shoes

I am incapable of buying sensible shoes.

I believe this is why - or at least one of the reasons why - I have so very many shoes. I go shopping - frequently - on a quest for sensible shoes. Comfy shoes. Shoes that will carry me through a long day of walking uphill while pushing a stroller, grocery shopping while bribing with treats, playing at the park in all its dirty, sandy, glory, and simply being me: a woman who might be a mother, but still likes to think she has a little style.

That's the problem: as soon as I get to the store, the sensible shoes look so frumpy compared to the stylish ones. And the sensible ones always seem to be more expensive! So I end up getting the cute metallic pumps, or the fun white heels with the floral embellishment, on sale, of course, and coming home sans sensible footwear.

Also, I really don't look good in flats. They make my legs look like tree stumps. There I said it. I try them on, stand in front of the mirror, and lumberjacks everywhere salivate.

Yesterday, I noticed Trove, one of my all time favourite stores, is having a sale.

All footwear and handbags 50% off.

You have no idea. The panic/excitement/must shop must shop/shop or perish shop or perish refrain was almost unbearable. I made a promise to myself to bypass all the pumps and pretty handbags and only look at their collection of sensible, eco-friendly footwear. They have tons, and I've had my eye on a few flat (ish) pairs.

In I went, squeezing through the aisles with my double stroller, both children placated with goldfish crackers and promises of a trip to the park.

I tried on every single pair of sensible shoes in the place. Ask the salesgirl.

I also tried on a pair that seemed to be a compromise between sensible and stylish.

What do you think?



I hope you like them, because these are the ones that followed me home. (Who doesn't adore that commercial?)

They're called El Natura Lista and they're made of eco-friendly materials, recycled when possible and sustainable, too. The company also runs and contributes to humanitarian efforts, which I think is nifty. Also, they make funky shoes. Check out the site. http://elnaturalista.ca/

The ones I bought have a tiny heel, so I suppose they're not exactly suitable for long hikes on wilderness paths, but I'm not really the wilderness path type. I like to stick to the sidewalks so I can still look in the shop windows.

Also, they're red. (The photo doesn't quite reflect the fabulousness of the red. In person, they're deeper, more black cherry than apple.) So I suppose they won't go with everything. Then again, Stacey on What Not to Wear is always insisting red is a neutral, and saying things like "Shut up! I love a red shoe."

So, shut up, I suppose! I love a red shoe, too.

xo Marissa

Nautical Disaster

So, I have a friend whose husband is actually in the navy (the navy? the seaman's club? see, I'm really dumb about all things nautical, and you'll see just how dumb in a moment ...) and she was kind enough to point out that in my last post, I mention that I was on a boat and everyone was asked to go "starbird". Which is how it's pronounced. But really, it's starboard.
I stand corrected! If I were the captain of the ship, I would have a very confused crew, indeed. (Or would I? Because I would say starbird and it would sound like starboard so everyone would know where they're supposed to go. Hmmm. I guess I'd be the only confused one. Which is why I'm not in the navy. Or the seaman's club. Or even a yacht club member.)
Ahoy!

Treehugger Tuesday and the Importance of Being Earnest

This past weekend, I read in Margaret Wente's Globe column that if the entire world switches to organic produce, it would be a catastrophe.

And here I thought going organic was going to save the world! Sheesh.

This article gave me something to think about. And this is what I think:

The organic movement is getting commercialized to the point that it might be costing consumers more than it's worth, in certain cases. (For example, who really cares if your cookies are organic? White sugar will kill you. The pesticides will probably just help you not know what hit you when you go.)

Also, if what Wente says in her article is true, organic farming in its current form is not necessarily the most sustainable practice in the world, in every single case. Damn it.

But what Wente's article isn't taking into account is that there's a potential we're heading for global catastrophe anyway. (I apologize that a blog entry with a title as cute as Treehugger Tuesday is getting so morbid, but it has to be done.)

So which way do you want to go down - while aerially spraying fields with pesticides and having your apples radiated and shipped from Chile, or while buying food from the farmer's market down the road and eating veggies and fruit that have been grown with local love? (Come on, let's all start singing kumbaya.)

I think our choices should all be earnest ones. I think we need to think about what we do and why we do it - and, perhaps most importantly, how we do it - rather than just accepting what's lumped on our plates. I think if we all thought a little more about our actions - from where we get our veggies to where our garbage goes when we throw it "away" - the world would be a few steps farther away from imploding.

That said, I do think we need to take a balanced approach when it comes to the organic movement.

When everyone starts doing something at once, it can be a bit alarming. I was once on a whale watching boat and the captain announced there was a group of minke whales cavorting at starbird (at the time, I knew what that meant) and everyone ran starbird and the boat nearly capsized.

The same goes for organic, and everything eco-friendly, I suppose. We need to be balanced in our choices. Is local more important than organic? Is fair trade more important than either of those? (I don't know about you, but the fair trade chocolate square I nibbled on earlier tonight did not seem to make its way immediately to my hips the way un-fair trade chocolate seems to ...)

Either way, if you're making a choice between local and organic, organic and fair trade, at least you're making a mindful choice, rather than grabbing strawberries from California when they're at their peak right here in Ontario and not thinking twice about why that might be a bad move.

Or picking up a chocolate bar that may or may not contain some decidely unchocolatey ingredients. Like, for example, melamine. (Honestly, I don't think I'll ever get over that one.)
Enough said.

Happy Tuesday! Hug a tree!

xo Marissa

Thunder From Down Under

Treehugger Tuesday seems the perfect spot to talk about John Butler, who I saw perform at the Phoenix last night.

John Butler makes me feel like being a hippie isn't lame. (Even though I am kind of alarmed by his super long fingernails, which my husband explained he uses as guitar picks. And he is a really good guitar player. But still.)

Anyway, any man who can sing as passionately about his wife and daughter as he does about treating mother earth with respect is alright with me. Last night's version of my fave song, Peaches and Cream, was even better than this, but it was the only one I could find on You Tube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5p-05HvAhc

So here he is, the man who inspired the Riley character in my book because, well, as my lovely gal pal Lisa once put it, who wouldn't go for the cute Australian musician guy? (Not me, of course. I go for the cute computer nerd type with the rockstar alter ego. Much safer in the long term. Also, no wierd long fingernails, because you don't need those for playing air guitar.)

xo Marissa

Waste Not, Want Not

I missed Treehugger Tuesday this week because I was away in Bloomfield. (I saw Gord Downie walking down the dunes at Sandbanks with his three kids, which made me feel like I made a pretty cool vacation-spot choice. Unless, of course, Gord isn't cool anymore. He was at a beach with his three kids, not partying like a rock star. Then again, I was sitting on the beach with my two kids and not partying like a rock star either, so there you go. Sandbanks must be the vacation spot of choice for people who used to be cool. But aren't anymore.)

We spent the week in a small cottage with my dad, stepmom, and two of my brothers (the youngsters, they're 13 and 16, and they don't think I'm cool either). Then there was my husband, myself, my two-year-old son and my one-year-old daughter. It was a little tight, but we made it work. In fact, I never once felt cramped.

This is my dad's style. Why rent a huge cottage when you can rent a small one and be just as happy? As the week progressed, I noticed some of my dad's other waste-not-want-not habits I'd forgotten about, since it's been a while since I lived with my old man. (Or partied like a rock star, for that matter.)

He throws nothing away. Nothing. They should ship him to Toronto to teach us how to deal with the garbage strike. There'd be no need for park dumps and pesticide blow outs if he were around. The man saves leftover tablespoons of homemade dressing in teeny jars to use the next day or add to a new dressing. (He makes his own, since preservative laden store bought stuff doesn't taste as good as throwing some olive oil, rice vinegar, garlic, and basil together in a jar. Obviously.)

I saw him save an inch of tortilla wrap with a smidge of grated cheese inside that my son didn't finish for lunch. He later had it as a snack. (My son, not my dad. Although my dad probably would have eventually consumed it rather than see it go to waste.) Every morning, he made me a bowl of fresh fruit. Every morning, I suddenly decided I was back to being a teenager and left in on the table, untouched, in favour of a cinnamon waffle. He'd doggedly put the bowl in the fridge, and I'd always eat it later.

If we didn't finish a bottle of wine, he'd funnel it into a smaller bottle so it wouldn't oxidize over night. (Admittedly, this wasn't often a problem.) Seriously, he saves everything. At first, I looked on in bemused wonder. But as the days passed, I began to realize my dad is probably the most sustainable person I know. Some might call him cheap. He is part-Scottish, after all. But from now on, I'm going to call him eco-friendly. (I have to admit, watching him in all his item saving glory made me feel a little nostalgic. I still remember visiting my grandpa's apartment as a little girl and there being a clothesline across the kitchen, hung with rinsed out paper towels.)

I think the rest of the world is starting to catch on to the fact that being eco-friendly saves money. In the face of economic crisis, big companies like Walmart (they installed motion detector lights in their freezer section and saved millions) and Home Depot (switching to energy efficient light bulbs proved to be a huge money saving boon) are making environmentally minded choices because of the bottom line. Sure, it would be nice if we all decided to be eco-citizens because it's the right thing to do, but there's really no point in arguing about sizable reductions in carbon emissions, is there?

Last year, a good friend of mine, who works as a project manager for the Humber River Watershed, asked me to be her date to the Charles Sauriol Environmental dinner. The keynote speaker was Ray Anderson, whom I looked up on Google and discovered was the CEO of a company called Interface. Interface is the largest carpet manufacturer in the world. Definitely wasn't enough to give me goosebumps. I was sure the dinner was going to be fun, but listening to the owner of a carpet company in Georgia speak ... well, I was going to drink a few extra cups of coffee after dinner just in case.

But from the moment Ray opened his mouth and began to speak in his Georgia peach accent (can you call a man a peach? Trust me, this man is one.) I was riveted.

He spoke of reading in Paul Hawken's The Ecology of Commerce that industry leaders had the power to change the world, environmentally speaking, and deciding that he was going to. Change the world, I mean.

At first he started small, but none of his changes proved to be thus. Recycling carpet trimmings into new carpets instead of sending them to the landfill saved hundreds of thousands of tons of waste, for example. Since 1995 he has reduced the waste his company produces by a third, and his plan is to produce no waste by 2020. (I don't have enough room to wax ecstatic about all the things he does, so if you want, you can learn about him here.)

He relayed what people always tell him: "What you're trying to accomplish can't be done". His response: "It has been done. And if it has been done, it can be done."

I almost swooned. (Yes. This is what it takes to get me all hot and bothered these days. I'm definitely no longer cool.)

As I walk around the city, watching the garbage fester and wondering what kind of person simply throws bags of garbage on the ground beside taped shut bins (seriously, what is that??) I've been thinking of my dad, and Ray Anderson, too.

It's been done: my dad saves everything, and, in his own words, that's helped him pay off his mortgage faster - and also, reduce his impact on the planet.

And, on a bit of a grander scale, Ray Anderson saves everything, too, and the business model he's operating on is one of the most cost efficient ones in the world. He saves money, while saving the world.

So there is hope. Because if it has been done, it can be done.

xo Marissa