The other day, quite innocently as I was getting dressed, I noticed that the cami top I was preparing to put on was made in Honduras. I own about two dozen color selections in this cami style (from Maurices) and have worn these camis for years and just yesterday for the first time I noticed the label – Made in Honduras.
Typically I am quite the label reader – at least as it applies to food labels. Yet it never once occured to me to read my clothes labels to see where they were made; but, after that first cami I just kept going – my tops, my underwear, my jeans, my bras, my scarves – everything I could find with a tag. And oh the places my clothes took me – Thailand, Israel, Indonesia, China, Vietnam, India, and Mexico. There may be more places I could have gone, but it was Mexico that stopped me in my tracks. The Made in Mexico designation was on, of all things, my Bruce Springsteen Born in the U.S.A. t-shirt.
Now, I hate to be overly dramatic, but isn’t it per se anti-American to have a t-shirt with a classic Springsteen song cover like Born in the U.S.A. made in Mexico? What are you going to tell me next, that the Buy American shirts are made in China? UGGGH. I am all for globalization and I realize that we have become a world of imports, but some things must be held sacred…things like my Born in the U.S.A. shirt.
Seriously, I will attire myself in the global bazaar that is in my closets and dressers without barely an utterance, but I refuse to acquiese to The Boss and his trademark Americana hit being sent off to Mexico to be mass produced on t-shirts. I have to draw a line somewhere and if it happens to be across Bruce’s blue-jeaned fanny – then so be it.
One thousand and eleven of the new forty – obla di obla da