Green Consumerism

As a former vegan and occasional vegetarian whose tolerance of lactose is skeptical depending on the weekday, I’ve spent a fair amount of time in coops and natural food stores. I have to admit that I love being in a coop. Not shopping there, necessarily - just being. What’s being sold in stores like Whole Foods or the Boise Coop is atmosphere as much as product. It’s the mist covered produce, smartly designed product packaging and lack of primary colors, all kept stocked by hip looking employees who each seem to be buying time before their next backpacking trip across Southeast Asia or their band’s next tour. It somehow feels healthy, and responsible, just being there.

There is a smugness intermingled with the Australian wines, fairly-traded coffee and hand-dyed organic cotton saris made by former prostitutes in Calcutta – it requires a certain level of interest and cultivated understanding of the global market, with its specific offerings and nuanced economic ramifications, to fully appreciate and indulge in coop shopping. A seasoned shopper will know not to ask where the artichokes are (they’re out of season) and which bar of dark chocolate really is worth $6.79. They will navigate the Health and Wellness section with poise and purpose (homeopathic sleep aid, check; ear candles, check; probiotic supplement, check), banter with the butchers and gladly accept and comment on the apricot gelato samples.

The myth in this approach to consumerism is that it is all “green.” A parallel market has grown up to fill coops and natural food stores with products that aren’t found in conventional grocery stores. Conscientious consumers don’t want to be confronted with brightly packaged Ziplock boxes or unsophisticated, plain white cutting boards, so companies with unrecognizable names are providing the same products with a different aesthetic and the vague promise of sustainability.

These green products have been tacked on to the local food movement, so that next to your locally grown potatoes is vegetable peeler made from recycled plastic. Down the aisle there are plastic sandwich bags and plastic wrap made by Natural Value, as well as brown paper towels, pea-green disposal utensils and substantial, homemade- paper looking plates. Amidst all of the responsibly grown, produced and shipped items the inconsistency of “natural’ disposable plastic sandwich bag loses its punch.

The focus on ethic foods is another element to the myth. Somehow buying green and eating ethnic foods have been associated with one other. The coop is the only place in town where you’ll find 52 different types of Asian hot sauce, or a whole shelf of bottled curries, or three different kinds of instant miso soup. The energy used to distribute these items makes them distinctly ungreen, yet they are purchased with the same feeling of well-being as the kale grown down the street.

The idea of a green consumerism is a myth. To be truly green would be to stop participating in the demand for and production of useless crap, and the wasteful and illogical distribution of food across the world. But...that's too hard. And the myth feels so nice.