"A super smart investment"

There's this thing - not new, but not that old - of companies asking consumers to purchase less, and in doing so, increasing their own profits. First, in 2011, Patagonia, and now Cuyana, which appears to make rich-hippie resortwear. And nothing says investment piece you'll wear for years like a white tank top. (An $150 leather tote bag is actually called "a super smart investment.") Says their "philosophy" page:

We want to love every item in our closets. We want to revel in the tactile beauty of the world’s finest materials and marvel at consummate craftsmanship. We believe in style, not fashion; in quality, not quantity. We celebrate fewer, better things and strive to live a life of inspired simplicity.

Which... I suppose I partly agree with. WWPD's cheapness philosophy also dictates only buying clothes you're thrilled with,  and not owning too much. As for "the world's finest materials," I think I'll settle for something non-toxic (as much as one can ever know this about anything; in an ideal world the state, and not the individual consumer, would sort this out) and not itchy. And, alas, if the thing isn't already fraying or coming apart at the seams at the store, it's craftmanned enough for me. (With one exception, because it's no fun being a purist. It's gone up in price, looks like!) But the overall idea that one ought to only buy what one is excited to own, and not just kind of accumulate stuff for the heck of it, is sensible. Rules like, are you still thinking about whichever item a week later. Fair enough.

So why does this not sit right? Because if you're selling stuff, you want people to buy stuff. Because obviously someone who's buying a bathing suit coverup - however timeless - isn't only buying that. This company would like you to buy only their goods? Well so would every company - that's capitalism, not altruism.

Because this is about a brand capitalizing on consumers' altogether reasonable wariness about how their fast fashion is made, as if one is suddenly a good person for buying this over that. As if there's blood on your hands... unless you buy this.

Because... well, because it's specifically vacation clothing, and with really, really upscale vacations implied, photographed. One is left with the impression that those who jet between resorts worldwide - but, like, the really idyllic ones, untouched by the touristy masses - are somehow more ethical. Wouldn't they be even more ethical if they weren't burning through all that jet fuel? Oh no - the Cuyana shopper is more ethical than the Old Navy shopper, or the Kmart shopper, or - horrors - the Walmart shopper.

Or maybe I'm too cynical. (It wouldn't be the first time!) Maybe it's a good thing - and not an equivalent of greenwashing - if companies promote themselves on the basis of selective shopping. Commenters, prove me wrong.

The things to worry about roundup

-The question of "fast fashion" is in the news again, thanks to a new and much-publicized book by Elizabeth Cline. To some of us, it might come as surprise that there's anything new to say about this issue, about how we the entitled (female, American) consumers screw over labor and the environment with our insatiable lust for whatever is $5.99 at H&M. Wasn't this book already written? Having for a while now been a voice of gratuitous contrarianism on this issue, I'd assumed that the system of ever-cheaper, ever-trendier clothing was under a great deal of criticism, that we were already supposed to feel bad about "Made in Bangladesh." But until we're all hand-stitching our own clothes from worn-out farmers-market tote bags, until we get the message, we can probably expect more exposés along these lines.

-What to do when knockoff Hermès bags are made by the same workers who make the real deal? Perhaps not be one of those people who insists they only care about "quality," and then goes and buys an expensive, name-brand handbag named after Serge Gainsbourg's muse.

-Do you check your email? Use the Internet to watch videos? You might be depressed. Phrased otherwise: some people are and others are not depressed, and everyone checks their email and watches videos; those who never leave the house probably do more of both. Given that by the standards of Important New Research, all of us currently have the symptoms of every disease ever mentioned on "House," not to mention that if you ever felt awkward in a social situation, OMG Aspergers, we are all depressed. Or: no wonder we're all depressed, given that we are all at immediate risk of Mediterranean Sleeping Sickness and amyloidosis. (Imagine the "Seinfeld" plotline where George has a "white discoloration," in the age of WebMD.)

-Another subset of hypochondria: that which is on behalf of one's pet, who of course cannot announce that she feels ill and in what capacity. Every possible thing that goes on with a dog that does not appear in a Beneful commercial (shown on Internet video source Hulu, alas) is possibly devastating. Or: every so often, dogs throw up, and if you find yourself tearing up about this, you might be depressed. If, while online to check your dog's symptoms, you also check your email, or watch a video of some impossibly cool foodies preparing lunch, you might need to Google your own symptoms as well.

-Best answer yet to NYMag's question, "What makes someone a New Yorker?," from Frank DeCaro: "The inability to resist telling complete strangers where to eat." Guilty as charged - thus the hordes I insist on pointing to Dos Toros, Le Boulanger des Invalides Jocteur, and now Pad Thai in Highland Park.

-Touché, estranged son of Woody Allen, touché.