Protesting used to be such an easy business. March down the street, sing Koombaya. I was a marcher. In fact, here I was, my first year out of college, 1992, at the March for Women's Lives in Washington, D.C. (OH MY GOD I GRADUATED COLLEGE HOW MANY YEARS AGO???)
(Now of course this lovely picture of me and my big hair behind the Capitol is in glorious technicolor, but I STILL DO NOT HAVE MY NEW COMPUTER, and I had to scan it on my work xerox machine, and sorry for the big gap of space at the bottom - no editing program on the work computer!). None of us got arrested, and we all went to a nice cocktail party in the evening sponsored by NOW.
And these particular protestors, the BIO protestors -- I don't get them because they're opposed to wearing any animal fiber product, even if the poor little sheep is just dying to be shorn. I love going to the hairdresser, and I believe that a matted, uncomfortable sheep does as well. And frankly, I don't see how synthetic fabrics are any more animal friendly, since there had to have been some kind of animal testing there in the making. But, trust me, we don't want to see any of these particular protestors naked, so at least they cling to their acrylic. Luckily, it's not part of my job description to understand my clients - and, if these guys took up knitting, they'd probably have a whole new take on the wool thing.
1 comment:
Geez, your client looks like the spawn of Charles Manson. I watched the whole protest episode from my office window. Trust Wendy to get the case!
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