I discovered something this morning as I was getting dressed.
Don't be gross.
My pants were made in Vietnam. I recognize that the majority of the clothing I own wasn't made here in the United States, and I've noticed when an item was made in a particularly exotic locale - Israel, Sri Lanka, etc. - but for some reason it struck me with particular interest this morning. Maybe it's the writer in me, but I was intrigued.
My pants have traveled farther than I have. Think of the adventures my pants have had (before me, thank you), the markets they've seen, the countries they've traversed, the oceans they've flown over. Did they get here by plane, train, automobile, oil tanker, seagull? What about their pants buddies? Where are they now? Scattered across the country, or the world? Did my pants have to overcome impossible odds to become the pants they are today? Are they more worldly and cultured now? So many questions, so few answers. Mainly because my pants can't talk.
But think of where your clothes have come from, the hands that have touched them, the whispers of another culture woven into their fabrics, whether overt or subtle. It's such a global culture we live in that we tend to become blase about the wonders we're privy to, but we're still a vast melting pot of cultures on this rock, and sometimes it's fascinating to take a step back and really appreciate the travels our possessions have made to get to us.
I don't know, just food for thought. Or pants for thought, I guess.