I’m writing to you partly to make a serious point, and also partly to assuage my guilt at succumbing to that most primal of urges which has embarrassingly taken hold of me once again – the almost unshakeable urge to hoard.
On the 18th June I went shopping on the high street. To those who don’t know me, this is unsurprising and not particularly interesting either. So I’ll add that this was my first venture onto the high street (to actually BUY something I mean, I walk past shops all the time and no amount of anti-capitalist banter is gonna stop me using my shortcut past Selfridges) for over two years.
This is because I made a pact with myself to never again buy an item of clothing new, unless it was fair trade. My reasoning was that, previously, I had bought the vast majority of my clothes from charity shops anyway, so it seemed to me that you could quite easily get all the clothes you needed second hand. What, even your underwear? I hear you ask. Ah. Well, you’ve got me there, I’ve never dabbled in pre-worn pants. But then nor have I broken my pact to buy new ones. I just haven’t bought any. For two years. That’s not too bad is it? Admittedly I could do with a few upgrades, but anyway… Please let's get out of my knicker drawer and back to the point.
So, I went shopping with the sole purpose of getting myself a bikini. I was off to Glastonbury the next day and could feel in my bones that it was going to be a scorcher. So I had to find the smallest possible scrap of material that protected my modesty while maximising on breeze. So, after trying and failing in TK Maxx (delusions of greendeur – “it’s all out of season stock, by buying this stuff I’m diverting it from landfill”... erm, no, you’re not, GET OUT OF THE SHOP*), a spangly number in H&M caught my eye. Here’s the offending article itself (proof of purchase attached). Fellow magpies will no doubt approve. I’m such a sucker for something shiny and silvery (yes I know, sewed on by underpaid children – it’s not something I usually indulge in).

Waiting in a queue for the tills longer than my monkey arms (no mean feat I can tell you), I had plenty of time to sway between terrible guilt (oh shit, made in China, that’s definitely got to be sweatshops) and steely determination (it’s going to be friggin’ HOT, just bloody buy it, it’s not like you’re blowing a hundred quid). After a few wobbles when I really nearly left (due partly to a genetic predisposition to absolute impatience it’s true), I eventually got to the pay point and coughed up a tenner along with a little piece of my soul.
So, H&M, what I’m writing to say is this; taking on board the advice of campaign group Labour Behind the Label, I bought clothes from you and am now writing to you to say that I am a customer, but one who wants more. I’ve spent money in your shop, but I absolutely PROMISE I won’t do it again unless I see some good stuff happening. I’d particularly like to know what the worker who made my bikini in China was paid. What’s a living wage in China, compared to the legal minimum? It worries me that your code of conduct does not appear to guarantee payment of a living wage (ie one which covers the basic costs of living) to those who make the clothes in your stores. Your code of conduct instead makes vague approving noises about paying fairly, without committing to actually do it. This I already knew, but my recent purchase was made all the more excruciating by the recent revelations published (then quickly taken offline) by the Daily Mail, which discovered that your employees in Bangladesh have been having a pretty horrible time; barely paid enough to cover the cost of their rent, and fired if they attempt to bargain for a better deal. I want you to tell me what it is you’ll be doing from now on to stop these sorts of things happening in the future. Or I want my money back.
Emailed to H&M on 23rd July 2010. Awaiting response.

*More on this later...










