The New Frugality

Waste attracts rats of all sorts.

by Bruce Schimmel

Harold, at 79, is a tad too young to be a true child of the Depression. But the Jewish tradition of making do with whatever you had — turning sow's ears into silk purses (well, maybe not sow's ears) — served him well as a minor mogul in the textile world.

A middleman in the rag trade, Harold — the "H" in H. Davis Textiles Inc. — was a niche player long before the term became popular. When textile mills had overruns, he was the go-to guy.

Harold's formal title was fabric converter, and the fabric for which he was heralded was felt. Every day, the UPS guy would teeter in with big cardboard boxes stuffed with felt that eventually adorned the walls of classrooms and boardrooms across America.

It was a trash-to-treasure business model, which spun off a nice stream of cash. Today, Harold enjoys a very comfortable retirement, having made a neat bundle — without being beholden to anyone.

That last part is significant. Because waste, as we know, tends to attract rats of all sorts. And so when the local syndicate in Harold's 'burb near Boston noticed great bushels entering his warehouse, they figured (foretelling another popular expression) that garbage in would yield lots of garbage going out.

And that generally meant that people like Harold would pay sizable fees and the occasional tribute to the local trash lords.

However, when a couple beefy guys in suits ("nice fabric," remembers Harold) appeared at his warehouse to offer him "help" with his garbage "problem," Harold successfully showed them the door.

"We had no waste," Harold declared. "Nothing. No fabric, cardboard, wrapping paper or string." Everything that came in also went out. Everything was reused.

HALF OFF DEPOT

Why live life at full price?

Frugality is a virtue celebrated by ancient Philly worthies as diverse as Benjamin Franklin and Walt Whitman.

But this classic value is also making a quiet comeback. The New York Times recently praised the people of Portland, Ore., for their frugal ways — from recycled clothing to their cheap eats.

"No waste" is also the mantra now chanted by recycling advocates, whose ultimate quest is to produce less recycling — thus saving the energy and effort of remanufacturing.

As Franklin might put it today, "Each person his own recycler must be."

Here in Philly, we see the occasional blurb — from blogs, newspapers and even Philadelphia Magazine — highlighting the occasional frugal opportunity.

But finding ways to pass along these frugal arts is a challenge. Don't expect much from most media, more dependent than ever on advertising. Promoting frugality isn't in the best interest of those whose survival depends on increasing consumption.

Which brings us back to Harold, and the saving graces of older family and friends. Those who make fabulous soup from kitchen scraps, or fine furniture from ancient wood. Who build bicycles from parts, and houses out of heaps.

People who use, in Whitman's lovely words, "what is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest." Those schooled in the best of the past, who envision the beauty of a frugal future.

(bruce@schimmel.com)