ColumnHave we lost our ability to do – and appreciate – the beauty of the simple things in life?

I had walked by the socca stand once before.

All the way in the back of Paris’ popular Marché des Enfants Rouge, full of various food stands and markets, there was a gray-haired man making the traditional street food from Nice, “socca” scribbled in white on a black chalkboard. A crepe made of garbanzo bean flour; it’s a specialty that’s hard to find out of the region. Tracking down garbanzo bean flour a couple of years ago at an ethnic food market, my mother started making them. They became an instant family classic.

In the middle of a very cold day at the height of rush hour, we opted for a pot of Moroccan tea instead, but I made a mental note to come back.

A couple of weeks later, we were in the neighborhood just at the end of lunch hour. The market had mostly cleared out after the midday rush, and the line at the socca stand was only a few people long. Beyond socca, the specialty was obviously galettes – large crepes filled with whatever you wanted – and grilled sandwiches. The gray-haired man working the stand filled ciabatta with a variety of ingredients and put them on his expansive crepe griddles.

“Alors, vous voulez quoi?” What would you like?

“Deux cornets vegetariens… et un socca”

Two galettes stuffed with a handful of vegetables and a socca for good measure. The man, whose name was Alain, went to work. Throwing a pre-made galette on the grill and filling it with grated carrot and fennel, mushrooms, lettuce and a roasted eggplant spread. He opened up a Tupperware filled with goat cheese and threw on more than a few rounds, his fingers covered in bits of cheese. He moved in a meticulous yet artful way; a frantic type of methodical in the way that only someone that has been doing something for many years can do.

He looked up, “et le miel!” he said emphatically, as he brought out a jar of honey and held it high up as he drizzled it over the entire thing. He wrapped the cornets in paper and handed them off. “Tout bio vous savez!” All organic.

Meanwhile the socca had been cooking on the crepe griddle at the edge of the stand. I asked him if it was easy to get socca in Paris. “Non, je suis le seul à le faire.” I have yet to verify whether or not he’s actually the only one in town making socca, but I took his word for it. He sprinkled the garbanzo flour crepe with an herbed salt, broke it into small pieces and threw it into a white bag. It was so warm it was steaming. Comfort street food.

The cornets were huge, more food for 6.50€ than you could probably get anywhere else in Paris, unless you were stuffing yourself on a baguette and a jar of Nutella.

This city, like many other food metropolises, is full of five star restaurants and world-renowned chefs, but it’s moments like these that are a reminder that often, the simplest ones are the best. I asked Alain what the name of his food stand was. “Il n’y en a pas.” There isn’t one. Of course there wasn’t. This was a man cooking food simply for the love of food.

We like to over complicate things with multiple course dinners and fancy drinks. Those all have their place, but in an complex world, simplicity is more and more sought after, be it at a food stand in a market or in the kitchen.

Compare a cookie recipe from the early 1900s to a more modern one. The former will be a single mixture of butter, eggs, sugar, flour and baking powder. Simple ratios. There may not even be a temperature or time indicated. The home cooks of the day were merely supposed to have the knowledge to take care of that on their own and know when the cookies were done.

Take that same recipe from a modern book and it will fill up a page, you will be instructed exactly how to beat your eggs and cream your sugar and you’ll probably even get a complex icing concoction. Not to mention the images that show the cookies sitting on a romantic farm table, lightly dusted with the flour from the baking process and a cozy cup of tea in the corner. It might provide for inspiration, or it might just be a reminder that you’ll never accomplish the same thing.

We have made food for millennia, crafting and concocting and figuring out how to put ingredients together and create something new. From the more caveman methods of roasting a freshly caught animal over a fire, to modern day boiling, whisking, broiling and frying, we have evolved into a species that doesn’t just forage for fruits and berries: we do something with them. Culinary evolution has followed that of mankind, bringing us to the current day and age of the food cart, the five star restaurant and the cookbook shelf with thousands of new titles.

And yet somewhere along the way we reached a moment where we stopped cooking. Where convenience and prepared food became such the norm, that we didn’t have to know what to do with ingredients. Someone else could do it for us.

These days, we don’t know basic ratios. We have never roasted a turkey. Stocking a pantry is beyond us. Eating has nothing to do with the effort of our brains or hands, all we have to do is order, and so in this complex process of culinary evolution, we ourselves have actually devolved, unable to put simple ingredients together and make a meal out of it.

There’s no simple answer to this dilemma. It involves better food education in schools. It requires better access to food for everyone, not just those that live in food capitals. It involves a serious investment in revamping the entire food system. But it does also require a personal re-commitment to simplicity. A re-commitment to buying carrots from the farmers market and washing the dirt off ourselves, to working with the ingredients we have instead of ordering take out, to appreciating good food for good food’s sake, not because a magazine or guidebook said we should care about it.

That’s what people like Alain stand for. The love of food for food’s sake. Food doesn’t have to be complicated. It just has to be good and made with a little bit of passion. There’s beauty in simplicity after all.

This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’ weekly column at EcoSalon: Foodie Underground, an exploration of what’s new and different in the underground movement, and how we make the topic of good food more accessible to everyone. More musings on the topic can be found at www.foodieunderground.com.

Photo Credits: Anna Brones

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Sustainability through simplicity.

For minimalist shoppers, MUJI is the holy grail – an emporium of Japanese-inspired simplicity offering everything from hangers to notebooks to striped cotton tees.

MUJI’s mission is similarly minimalist: “to offer the opportunity of a Pleasant Life to people around the world.” Its products are simple, well-designed, and built to last using streamlined manufacturing processes. Though MUJI doesn’t specifically brand itself as a sustainable company, the sustainable principles of simplicity and self-restraint are a key element of its operations, along with a “no-brand” philosophy that discourages excessive consumerism.

MUJI got its start in 1980 as an in-house brand for the Japanese supermarket chain Seiyu. Initially called Mujirushi Ryōhin, which translated means “no-brand quality goods,” the company specialized in consumer products that were well-made but affordable. Using the tagline “lower priced for a reason,” the company was able to offer cheaper prices to consumers through careful material selection, streamlined manufacturing processes, and simplified packaging, according to the company website.

At that time, Japan enjoyed a prosperous economy, and expensive international brands were all the rage, while at the other end of the spectrum, cheap inferior products hit the market. The MUJI concept was born as a criticism of this state of affairs – a fresh look at quality and price of truly useful quality goods with a no-label philosophy.

Now owned by Ryohin Keikaku Ltd., MUJI produces more than 7,000 products and operates more than 400 retail outlets worldwide. The company has four U.S. stores, all based in New York City, and also sells products through the MoMA Design Store.

The Good

In MUJI’s messaging, social responsibility seems less a marketing stunt than a simple approach to doing business.

The basic principle of MUJI merchandise development is to create products that are fundamental, practical and really necessary in daily life, and to ensure efficient and minimal manufacturing processes.

In true minimalist form, the company outlines just three viewpoints for product development – “problem solving through design, examination of materials and processes, and simplification of packaging” – and three criteria for manufacturing – quality standards, a code of conduct for business partners, and a list of major materials to be eliminated or controlled.

Much of MUJI’s innovation springs from its focus on the traditional Japanese values of simplicity and self-restraint. In a published conversation, MUJI President Masaaki Kanai said that MUJI operates under the principle of “this will suffice” – a concept that he says is vital for consumers to adapt in this rapidly changing world.

Now, the world’s population has risen to a little more than 6.8 billion people, and it is said that the number of people who enjoy the same level of life as we do has increased to approximately 2 billion people. It’s also reported that a further 2 billion are waiting in the wings. If the number of consumers hits 4 billion, the earth’s thin skin will be blown off. When we had this discussion, we thought again about the ‘simplicity’ that had been prized by the late creator Ikko Tanaka, who built the MUJI concept. That is, the way of thinking that says ‘this will suffice.’ Simple is good. Resources should be used as little as possible. It’s not a matter of being resigned to something, but rather of wanting to make things that ‘will suffice’ while being full of self-confidence. Since ancient times, Japanese people have specialized in holding back personally for the sake of their surroundings. This is the ‘this will suffice’ concept.

Putting the concept in practice, MUJI says that it aims to exercise self-restraint at every point in the design and manufacturing process, constantly asking itself: “Is this necessary?” or “Is this going too far?”

Some of the results of this questioning process were recently displayed as part of MUJI’s recent Product Fitness 80 exhibition, which debuted in Tokyo in March and is currently traveling through Asia. The exhibition takes a look at select products and examines the long-term implications of rethinking products to minimize waste. Cotton buds, for instance, “don’t have to be that long,” nor does tape have to be that wide or toilet paper rolls that thick. And credit cards? Simply halving them could have profound impacts on plastic usage if the practice was adopted worldwide.

The Bad

While MUJI incorporates many sustainable principles into its operations, there’s still a long way to go before it can be labeled a truly environment-friendly brand. Its products are composed primarily of unsustainable materials like plastic and polyester, and most of its product manufacturing is done in China, Indonesia and Vietnam, countries with controversial labor practices.

On its website, parent company Ryohin Keikaku outlines a 41-point outline of the corporate social responsibility initiatives it has in place to “create a Pleasant Life,” but many of them strike me as soft.

For instance, to ensure that outsourced manufacturing partners understand Ryohin Keikaku’s standards, the company says that it includes the “Ryohin Keikaku Environment, Labor and Safety Management” document in contract paperwork and checks on implementation twice a year through questionnaires. Judging from these statements, compliance with ethical standards is enforced through little more than a pamphlet and a questionnaire.

As for the standards themselves, the company says that it has established its own Ryohin Standards that are stricter than current laws, but it fails to mention what those standards are.

To be fair, Ryohin Keikaku also has three separate website sections dedicated to corporate social responsibility that are available exclusively in Japanese: a Laboratory for Discerning Living, which discusses environmental themes and initiatives; an Articles section, with posts from an Environmental Team staff member; and an Environment Atelier, with reports from different partners from around the world, compiled between 2005 and 2010.

The Questionable

It’s often said that in order for true change to occur in the consumer goods sphere, the approach to sustainability needs to be holistic and integrated into every aspect of business. MUJI seems to be a great example of this. By embracing the Japanese value of self-restraint, MUJI exhibits many of the trademarks of a sustainable brand, even though its cotton is unorganic and its plastic unrecycled. Its focus on simplicity naturally leads to less waste. Its focus on quality means that products don’t have to be replaced as much. Its “no-brand” approach to marketing means that less is expended on packaging and advertising – which incidentally leads to greater customer loyalty from people who dislike being marketed to. It’s social responsibility, without all the fuss.

Looking at MUJI also raises the question: if a company designs responsibly and focuses on quality, does that also make it somewhat sustainable? As it stands, customers are often forced to choose between a recycled fair trade wallet with cheap zippers and too many pockets, and a more functional, long-lasting wallet made from high-quality materials that may not be sustainable. When considering the cradle-to-cradle impact of a purchase, it’s unclear which is the better option. Similarly, one has to wonder if MUJI’s pared-down approach to product development and marketing is more impactful than that of brands like Levi’s and Puma, with their highly-publicized, large-scale social responsibility campaigns. In this case, less might be more.

SEE ALSO:

Behind the Label: West Elm Green

Behind the Label: Design Within Reach

Read more Behind the Label here.

Image: Soon Koon

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Dress for long summer days in Scandinavian-inspired pieces that are all about casual elegance and versatility.

Inspired by that particular laid-back Scandinavian style, this look is all about simple, versatile basics that can be dressed up or down depending on the occasion and time of day. A white dress, like this one by Carrie Parry is a great wardrobe staple for summer. White sneakers give any look a bit of a sporty edge, a big trend this summer, and there are great eco-savvy alternatives to those ubiquitous Converse trainers. Finish it all off with a pair of round glasses, large tote bag and bohemian jewelry and you are totally ready for those long days of summer.

Carrie Parry Sheer Double Layer Shirt Dress
A delicate Peter Pan collar gives this feminine dress by Carrie Parry a dash of attractive androgyny. Ethically made in New York City from 100% handwoven silk georgette with 100% Bemberg cupro underlay.
$385, Fashioning Change

Hip Nighties Sunglasses
These round shades are the perfect mix of hipster cool and vintage elegance. Deadstock original vintage frames by Replay Vintage of Hollywood, CA.
$60, Fashioning Change

Desta Antique Charm Necklace by Raven + Lily
Inspired by a unique pendant found in an Ethiopian market, this charm necklace emits a stunning vintage feel, and will also antique beautifully over time. Handmade, using recycled metals, in Ethiopia by HIV positive women. Raven + Lily gives back by investing in healthcare and literacy programs in the communities where the jewelry is made.
$78, Fashioning Change

Keranga Charm Wrap Bracelet by Raven + Lily
Like the piece above, this gorgeous heirloom-design wrap bracelet by Raven + Lily is handmade by HIV positive women in Ethiopia, from recycled metals. At 22 inches long, it can also be worn as a single strand necklace.
$52, Fashioning Change

Ethletic Low-Top Sneaker
An ethical alternative to the classic style, these sneakers by Autonomie Project are super comfortable and versatile, and also lighten your environmental footprint. Fairly made in Pakistan from organic cotton and FSC-certified natural rubber.
$50, Fashioning Change

Soham Dave Hand-printed Unique Bag
Add some depth to an otherwise simple outfit with this one-of-a-kind bag by Soham Dave. The shell is handmade using a traditional hand block printing technique, and the lining is also block printed by hand with natural dyes. The straps, the bottom and the pocket trims are all made from reclaimed leather. Made by fairtrade cooperatives in Indian villages.
On sale for $144, Fashioning Change

Special curated guest look, all pieces available from Fashioning Change

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Tips for traveling light (stylishly) wherever you may roam.

Anyone who has ever tried to haul oversize suitcases along city streets, onto buses and trains, or up the stairs of a subway platform is well acquainted with the less glamorous side of travel. There are the sweat-stains, the fear of being mugged whilst carrying everything you own, the inopportune dropping of documents, and the desperate search for somebody, anybody, to help you carry your baggage up the stairs.

You’ll often hear globetrotters extol the benefits of packing light, priding themselves on the ability to pack only a modest carry on, whether going away for three days or three weeks.

Recently, I’ve come to realize the benefits not only of packing light, but of living light as well. For the past eight months, through different seasons, continents and hemispheres, I’ve lived only with the contents of my trusty Samsonite bag. Other than the few boxes of sentimental paraphernalia currently gathering dust at my parents’ house, I have little else in the way of worldly possessions.

My stint of extended suitcase living – of which there is no end in sight for the foreseeable future – has been a liberating exercise. At home, I’ve always struggled to minimize my belongings, donate the things I don’t need, and only make conscious purchases. On the road, those practices have effortlessly become a requirement of my existence.

While lugging all your belongings on your back is an impressive demonstration of minimalism, it’s a slightly less challenging one when it’s completely acceptable to look, well, like a seasoned backpacker.

Instead, I have appeared to the outside world as a stable member of society, rather than the quasi-transient one that I actually am. Meetings, interviews, weddings, and dinner parties have all been attended in appropriate and stylish, dress. The best part about this has been proving to myself that living with this kind of simplicity is not only possible, it’s preferred. And somehow, my life seems richer for it.

Shopping is rarely on the list of priorities these days, which is a boon for my bank account. When I do buy something, it’s usually of a higher quality, because I buy things less often. The house wares section of stores – the part that sells things like salad bowls, plush bath towels and scented candles – seems humorously irrelevant to me. In short, when the weight of your material possessions can’t exceed 23 kg, it leaves a whole lot of room for everything else in life.

With that said, there are a few tricks to mastering this spartan sense of style. Fortunately, none of them involve Teva sandles or convertible pants.

• Find a good blazer– a fitted jacket can make even the simplest outfit look sharp. A black or navy blazer does triple duty – wear it to a meeting, over a cocktail dress, or with jeans and a t-shirt on a long flight – and no one will suspect you have no permanent address.
• Don’t get attached- Each time I’m about to move on to a new place, I take careful stock of what I’m actually going to use while there. When I realized I probably wasn’t going to need a pair of chunky (and heavy) platforms while exploring Asia and Africa, my roommate in London happily took them off my hands. It’s important to get rid of stuff responsibly though – don’t just throw it away. There are almost always local charity shops, thrift stores, or perhaps even some appreciative locals who might be happy to acquire some of your stuff.
• Neutral, but not boring- Any list of packing tips will stress packing with a neutral color pallet in mind. While this is certainly a prudent tip, dressing in heather gray, beige and black can get pretty boring when you’re doing it for months at a time. I like to collect colorful scarves and sarongs when I’m traveling – my favorite piece being a green patterned sarong I bought on a beach in Kenya – because they add interest to outfits, can be worn in multiple ways, and don’t weigh much. I also try to keep the weight of fabrics in mind: heavy knits like sweaters or denim should be neutral, because they’re worn the most, while color can be added with light items like linen sun dresses and silk tops.
• Think about what you’re accumulating– When you’re traveling or living in new places, it’s natural to want to buy stuff. But the weight of those funky wooden beads you bought from the street hawker or those quirky vintage tins you found in that antique market add up. I once watched a roommate pack and find she had accumulated three times the baggage weight allowance for her flight back to Brazil. Don’t think that just because something is cheap and novel that it’s worth buying.

To be fair, there is some sacrifice involved in suitcase living, missing my French press coffee maker and wishing I had a bicycle are two. However, I’ve found in recent months that what I’m lacking in stuff, I more than make up for in the experiences I’m accumulating.

Luckily, I don’t think the airlines will be limiting the weight of those anytime soon.

Flickr: kthread

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Stuff – we all have it. But sometimes, all of the miscellany of life can add up until it feels like a physical weight. After eight moves in eight years, I managed to accumulate a basement full of storage bins that I unquestioningly brought with me to every new home. I found myself buying more and more bins to fill with more and more stuff.

But eventually, all of this stuff became a burden. I began to see myself as a turtle with an obscenely oversized shell that threatened to topple over at any moment. An extra coffee maker, art supplies that I might use “someday”, an unused ironing board, a stereo gathering dust. It’s all too easy to fill a house with things that we use once in a blue moon, if ever – but it’s not so easy to get rid of it.

I didn’t have much choice – I’m downsizing my life dramatically, and all this stuff had to go. Today, half of my belongings are gone and let me tell you, it feels amazing. Here’s how I did it.

1. Make a list of the items you actually use at least once a month. These things are your core possessions, the things you need to live a comfortable and happy life.
2. As you assess each of the items you have left (and there will be many), ask yourself, “Does this contribute to my life in a meaningful way?” Do you love it or need it? Does it have real sentimental value or a legitimate function in your life, or is it just taking up space?
3. Create a “maybe” box and a “no” box. At first, your “maybe” box will be overflowing, but that’s okay. Later on, you’ll get a bit more brutal about deciding what stays and what goes.
4. Let go of your fears about the expectations of others. So Great Aunt Edna gave you a set of tacky gold angel figurines for your birthday five years go, and you think she’s going to be hurt if she doesn’t see it displayed in your home. You know what? Accepting a gift does not mean agreeing to hang on to it for a lifetime.
5. Don’t use stuff as an investment – it’s only worth what other people will pay for it, and you’re paying to store it. A neighbor of mine once had an entire room in his home devoted to Beanie Babies, which were hot sellers in the late ’90s. You know what they’re worth now? Nothing. Only keep stuff like this if it’s in pristine condition and you’re positive that it has collectible value, and in that case, get it appraised and insured. Otherwise, invest your cash and save precious storage space.
6. Analyze your wardrobe. Anything you haven’t worn in at least a year is a goner. If a color or print sticks out like a sore thumb, don’t keep on searching for something that will match. It’s much simpler to stick to a smaller wardrobe of high-quality essentials that can be mixed and matched.
7. Consider whether you will need to use each item at least once a year. Some things, like seasonal décor, make sense to keep – but others can be rented or borrowed on those rare occasions when they’re actually called into action. If you’re on the fence about an item that you feel might be useful at some mythical future date, think about giving it to someone who would get more use out of it.
8. On the other hand, don’t get rid of so much stuff that you’re forced to re-buy most of it within months. It’s easy for some people to get caught up in the spirit of de-cluttering, but you don’t want to merely re-enter the cycle of consumption and cost yourself more money in the long run.
9. Now, divide your cast-offs into four piles: sell, donate, recycle and toss. Your trash box should only contain things that have truly outlived their usefulness and can’t be recycled. Sell items that could fetch any cash on eBay, Craigslist or at a yard sale. Drop off whatever is left at your local charity drive, or find new homes for it at Freecycle.org.
10. Learn from this experience. After witnessing the pitiful pennies that many of my like-new possessions brought in at my yard sale, I now think twice about every new purchase. If you don’t truly need it, it’s a waste of money.

Image: MelvinSchlubman

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Living off the grid – are you up for it? It’s an extreme yet liberating lifestyle requiring complete self-reliance for water, energy and resources. Most of us probably aren’t willing to go all the way (armchair off-gridding). Even if your electricity comes from wind or solar, having internet access means you’re on a grid. Perhaps your electric car charged with solar power keeps you off petroleum, but if you drive on managed roads, you’re using the grid, too.

Few of us would ever go completely off the grid – but there are a lot of things we can do to lower our dependence on it. Dave Black’s book Living Off the Grid gives a no-nonsense overview of your off-grid options.

The book begins with a chapter on conservation, for people who are city-bound (and therefore very much grid-bound) and need ideas on how to manage their home and property in energy-efficient ways. For those who have access to land, the next chapters cover shelter, energy, water and waste management. This book is not technically dense and makes for an easy read, especially for the amateur off-gridder.

Although just about every off-grid option imaginable is explained and some basic instruction is given, you’ll need more resources to actually do any of the more complex projects. An appendix of websites will help you find the extra instruction you need. Even if you’re not planning to go all the way, consider this book a well-rounded, frank introduction to the world of self-sustained living.

Image: visualpanic

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