Isaac Romero’s transformation, from a high-pressure role at Inditex to becoming a passionate advocate for regenerative agriculture, is a tale of rediscovery, purpose and hope for a more sustainable future.

“I used to work at Inditex, in their footwear division in Alicante.”

Inditex, the Spanish multinational known for brands like Zara and Bershka, is one of the largest fashion retailers in the world. The company — now worth over $170 billion (USD) — epitomises fast fashion, a business model that encourages rapid turnover of styles to meet high consumer demand.

“It was an ultra-consumerist world, and it was draining me. My job was to boost sales, to constantly push for more and more, but in my personal life, I had stopped buying almost anything; I no longer believed in the system I was a part of.”

For years, Isaac was deeply embedded in this world, driven by overproduction and relentless sales targets. However, fast-paced consumerist culture slowly diminished his sense of purpose: he began questioning whether a system that thrived on constant consumption could truly bring fulfilment.

Isaac’s youth was spent in Los Guájares, a village in Granada, in southern Spain — with a population of just over 1000 people — where his parents were lifelong farmers. In the past, inhabitants adapted to the steep, rocky landscape by growing crops like grapes, olives and almonds on terraced land. These traditional farming methods shaped the area’s identity.

Growing up in Los Guájares, Isaac learned the value of hard work, the patience of waiting for a harvest, and the deep connection between people and the land. As a young man, he left home in search of broader horizons, studying abroad in Finland, working in Taiwan, and eventually settling in Barcelona. Yet, despite his global adventures, the rural rhythms of his childhood continued to resonate within him.

“I never imagined going back to the land, much less making a living from it. I saw myself as a city man, but then I got laid off, and I was relieved.”

The layoff marked a turning point in Isaac’s life. Instead of plunging him into despair, it ignited a period of reflection and transformation.

“I moved to Barcelona and immersed myself in sustainability studies, doing a course on climate change, permaculture in Girona, and a Masters in Circular Economy.”

In Barcelona, his new studies stood in stark contrast to his former corporate life, introducing him to a world focused on long-term environmental health rather than short-term profits. Then the COVID-19 pandemic arrived. A global crisis that forced many of us to reassess our lives and priorities. For Isaac, the slowdown was both a challenge and an opportunity. While many of his peers in the sustainability sector dreamed of acquiring farmland, he realised he already had a hidden treasure: ancestral land in Granada.

“I thought, ‘Isaac, what are you doing? You have land in Granada, more than you can manage. Why are you here in the city?’ The city no longer made sense to me. The constant push for consumption, the endless stimuli… I was done with it.”

Isaac found himself back in Los Guájares, where the familiar cadence of rural life, the scent of tilled earth, and the rhythm of the seasons welcomed him like an old friend. Yet, his return was far from a simple homecoming; it was a call to reimagine his destiny.

“I started working alongside my father, but you can’t just tell a 66 year old who has been doing things the same way his whole life that he needs to change. So I made gradual changes, little by little. It took three years just to transition our farm to organic methods.”

The project that emerged from this transformation, Arraigo, is not just a farm, it is a living laboratory that blends the traditional wisdom of his family’s farming practices with modern sustainability techniques to create a new vision of agriculture.

“People think it’s idyllic, but the reality is tough. Arraigo isn’t just about farming; it involves marketing, selling, packing and shipping. Some days, I question everything, but I remind myself why I chose this path.”

One of the foremost challenges Isaac confronts is water scarcity, an issue that is growing more severe as Spain’s climate shifts. Avocado trees, now the flagship crop of Arraigo, are notoriously thirsty, and declining rainfall in the region is becoming a big problem.

“Avocado trees need a lot of water, and rainfall is decreasing every year, that’s why I’m studying regenerative agriculture and working with specialists in Girona to make our farm more resilient. We’re implementing techniques to retain soil moisture and reduce reliance on chemical fertilisers.”

Regenerative agriculture, as practiced at Arraigo, is a radical departure from conventional methods. Rather than relying on intensive irrigation and synthetic fertilisers, Isaac has adopted practices that work with nature. Techniques such as cover cropping, mulching and composting are now integral parts of Isaac’s farm’s routine. These practices not only improve soil health but also boost its ability to retain water, a critical advantage in an increasingly arid climate. Isaac is also exploring agroforestry, growing multiple types of plants together in a symbiotic relationship, creating an ecosystem that mimics the natural diversity of a forest.

“Avocados have become one of the most profitable crops in Spain, but the way they are grown today is not sustainable in the long-term. We need to rethink how we farm if we want to continue feeding people without depleting resources.”

Regenerative agriculture is more than a set of practices, it’s a philosophy, and Isaac’s background plays a huge role in his commitment to this new way of farming. The values of hard work, respect for nature and the cyclical rhythm of the seasons were instilled in him from a young age, and have reemerged as the guiding principles of his new life.

“Returning to the land isn’t just a career change for me; it’s a way of reconnecting with my heritage and honouring the legacy of my family. I want to show that sustainable, regenerative farming is not only possible but can also be a viable path for future generations.”

The modern food system, driven by industrial agriculture, has led to the erosion of small farms and rural communities. Many small farmers have been forced out of business in Andalucía, and the resulting urban migration has left a huge void in rural areas all around Spain. Isaac believes that by making regenerative agriculture economically viable, it is possible to revitalise these communities and restore the balance between urban and rural life.

“This is not just about growing food, it’s about restoring our connection to the Earth, to the seasons, and to each other. If we change the way we farm, we can change the future.”

To achieve this vision, Isaac has actively engaged with his local community, collaborating with schools, universities, and local cooperatives to educate people about the benefits of sustainable farming. These efforts are part of a broader movement focused on reconnecting urban consumers with the origins of their food, a movement that has the potential to transform the entire food system.

Across the world, farmers and researchers are increasingly turning to regenerative agriculture as a solution to the challenges of the climate crisis, food security and environmental degradation. Industrial agriculture, with its heavy reliance on fossil fuels, synthetic fertilisers and monocultural practices has led to widespread ecological damage.

“I see Arraigo as part of something much bigger. The way we farm and consume needs to change, and I hope my project can be an example of what’s possible.”

Isaac is also passionate about the role of technology in farming. He’s exploring precision agriculture tools that track soil moisture, nutrient levels and crop health in real-time. These innovations boost productivity while reducing waste and environmental impact. By blending modern technology with traditional farming knowledge, Isaac wants to prove that sustainable farming isn’t just a thing of the past, it’s a forward-thinking practice that can tackle today’s challenges.

“Every tree I plant, every method I implement, is a step toward a future where our food systems are not only sustainable but regenerative, where nature and humanity work together in harmony. The land has always been here. We just need to learn how to respect and work with it again. Our ancestors knew how to live in harmony with nature, and there’s so much we can learn from them.”

Isaac’s transformation from a corporate executive to a regenerative farmer has required him to confront not only external challenges, like water scarcity and deep-rooted agricultural practices, but also internal struggles like self-doubt. During long days spent working on the fields, Isaac often reflects on his past life in the city and the hollow victories of corporate success.

“Returning to my roots has taught me that true wealth is not measured in sales figures or profit margins, but in the health of the land and the well-being of the people who depend on it. I want to build a legacy that honours the past and sustains the future.”

As the sun sets over the rolling hills of southern Spain, Isaac’s avocado trees stand as living proof that a sustainable future is within reach. Looking ahead, Isaac dreams of expanding Arraigo into a cooperative network that connects like-minded farmers across Spain and beyond. He envisions a future where regenerative practices become the norm rather than the exception, where consumers actively choose products that support ethical, sustainable agriculture, and every purchase contributes to the well-being of the Earth.

“I want to show that sustainable farming isn’t a niche or a luxury, it’s a necessity.”

Isaac’s story is a powerful reminder that transformation is possible at any stage of life. His bold decision to leave behind his corporate career to return to the land is a call to action. It invites us all to consider how we might live more harmoniously with nature and contribute to a more sustainable future.

“Every step we take toward sustainable farming is a step toward healing our planet. The future is in our hands, and it starts with the choices we make today.”

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Alberto Ruz Buenfil is the kind of spirited soul that shakes society.

His father was a notable archaeologist that unearthed the tomb of Pakal in the ancient Mayan city of Palenque, in the Yucatan region of Mexico, where he grew up. In 1968, at the tender age of 22, Alberto left Mexico and embarked on a long journey. Influenced by the global counterculture movement, he travelled with a group of friends across North America, Europe, North Africa, the Middle East and India. In each town they’d stay in an eco-village or community and learn from their alternative ways of living. With old beaten cars, they would drive in “caravan”, and upon arrival they would put on a theatrical show as an offering for the welcome of that community.

“We ended up travelling as a group for eight years. In those years, our nomadic tribe went everywhere: from communities in Sweden to ashrams in India and eco-villages in Greece. As the years went by members of the tribe began having children and so we decided it was time to stop. The kids were asking for more permanent friends and the women wanted a place to build a nest, so we went back home to Mexico.”

This tribe, now composed of 20 adults and 12 children, searched the country for the ideal settlement to start their own community. They travelled the country until Alberto stumbled upon Tepoztlan, a charming town just one hour south of Mexico City.

“This place called us, he searched for us, he found us. I was the one who arrived first and what most attracted me was a tree, a fantastic tree. After seeing that tree, I saw the possibility. Even though it didn’t have wells or springs, and it was a very dry spot, we had learned in our travels how to deal with arid landscapes from our time in a Kibbutz in Israel. If they could grow anything in the desert, then we could live here too. So we settled here in 1982 and named it Huehuecoyotl.”

Huehuecoyotl is the god of the arts, music and ceremonial dance in the Mexica tradition.

“Each community tends to have a common interest that brings them together, from our years traveling the World we knew that ours was our passion for the arts.”

Huehuecoyotl also means “old coyote” in Nahuatl, which is also how eventually Alberto received his nickname, El Coyote.

“The first thing was to open up a path, then we built a water catchment to be able to sustain ourselves. When our children grew up we built a school. Of course we were the teachers. Then parents from the town began sending their kids to our school, because we offered an alternative system. This also allowed our children to meet kids from outside of the community.

“As a community we developed what we call ‘eco-techniques’ and began hosting workshops and teaching them here. As my father was an archaeologist, I knew the importance of preserving history, so throughout the years of travel I had kept testimonies of everything that we had lived, which became the content of our conferences, shows and books. We even had a monthly magazine.”

The magazine focused on stories of community, land rights, and eco-techniques to live in harmony with nature, avant-garde content for Mexico in the 1980s.

By 1996, at the age of 50, El Coyote felt the call of the road again and embarked on another epic journey, this time he headed south.

“I was always inspired by movement. Movement opens the head, opens the heart, opens your vision of the world, opens everything it has to offer. And I have always been like that. All my life I’ve tried to learn more and more and more from everywhere I go and from the people that I meet. So in 1996, I left with a bus from here and headed to Tierra del Fuego, to the end of America. I started a new caravan. We left here in June of 1996 and had enough money for gasoline to get to Puebla.”

Puebla is a city two hours drive south from Huehuecoyotl. The bus had already journeyed from Colorado, a classic American school-bus, a gift from a close friend. After converting it into a mobile home, El Coyote set-off, accompanied by a new group of young adventurers.

“About ten other people got on the bus, and at the last moment a lady with a van joined too. That’s how “the Caravana Arcoiris por la Paz” (the Rainbow Caravan of Peace) was formed. So once we arrived in Puebla, we thought how are we going to get to Veracruz? Well, we are going to host workshops and give presentations on eco-techniques, because that’s what we know how to do. In my opinion when you arrive somewhere you have to offer something. Not see what you can get, but what you can give. So that’s what we did. I have friends in Puebla who received us and helped us organise the workshops. Then from there we went to Veracruz and did the same. In Veracruz, the Zapatistas heard about us and invited us to go to Chiapas. So we headed down to Chiapas.”

The Zapatista Army of National Liberation is a far-left political militant group that has been at war with the Mexican state since 1994. The group takes its name from Emiliano Zapata, the commander of the Liberation Army of the South during the Mexican Revolution. They aim to continue Zapata’s work of land reforms and Indigenous Rights, to this day they control large areas of the region of Chiapas.

“At that time, the Zapatista movement was hosting a meeting of thousands of people, about 6000 left radicals from all over the world. The Zapatistas built a tent city for them, with bathrooms and dining rooms and all. So we got there with our bus and the other little truck, and brought some gifts, among them my books and our music, and we gave it to Subcomandante Marcos, we then interviewed him too. Then we settled in the Zapatista community and did the same thing: first bring out the theatre and then give workshops about eco-techniques. We stayed there for about a month. The event had ended and everyone left, but we stayed there, living, coexisting with the Zapatista community and learning a lot from them too.”

Initially, El Coyote thought the journey south would take him two to three years, instead it lasted thirteen. From war zones to crowded favelas and remote Indigenous villages, everywhere they went the Rainbow Caravan for Peace would first put on a theatre show and then host workshops teaching eco-techniques to the locals, just how they had done for the Zapatistas. Their workshops taught locals different things: from how to build solar panels and rain catchment technologies, to composting and alternative eco-schools. In many towns and cities they would also convene gatherings of local environmental and Indigenous groups, so they could share their knowledge too.

“We also organised and convened two huge international gatherings, one in Peru, at the foot of Machu Picchu and the other in Brazil, in Alto Paraíso. We hosted other smaller gatherings in communities across Chile, Colombia, Ecuador, in each place we travelled to. The gatherings attracted environmental groups, Indigenous groups, artists and everything in between. They would usually last a week and they were the impetus for what then became the Council of Visions of Guardians of the Earth and CASA: the Council of Sustainable Settlements of Latin America.

“In some countries we stayed for months, in other countries we stayed for over a year. That is why it took us so long. Although we were travelling at an interesting historical moment, where neoliberal governments were being replaced by social, leftist governments. So borders that before would’ve been closed to us, all welcomed us instead. Doors were opening everywhere for us to continue working with communities, hosting workshops, conferences, gatherings, shows. So yes, we left a mark, a very beautiful mark everywhere we went. And on those trips, we began to form relationships with the locals, people left the caravan, new ones joined, couples were formed and new projects were mushrooming everywhere we had been.”

In 2005, the Rainbow Caravan of Peace made it to Tierra del Fuego, Argentina, nine years after leaving Tepoztlan.

“Once we arrived in Tierra del Fuego, we had the invitation to hold another great gathering in Brazil, ‘The Second Great Call of the Beijaflor (Hummingbird)’ in Alto Paraíso. Well technically the trip was done, we had reached Tierra del Fuego, which had been my commitment to the Great Spirit, to reach Tierra del Fuego and raise the rainbow flag, the flag of the land and the flag of peace among the glaciers. I had lowered the Argentinian flag and put up ours instead, but nevertheless we headed back north to help setup this large gathering.”

At the Second Hummingbird Gathering in Alto Paraíso, El Coyote met Gilberto Gil, then the Minister of Culture of Brazil. Gil knew about El Coyote, he had read his latest book on his caravan travels and was inspired by all of the work he had accomplished across the continent. Gil is one of Brazil’s most notable figures, a famous musician from Bahia and a vocal opponent of Brazil’s previous military government.

“So Gil told me ‘I want you to join us here in Brazil, to become part of the project we are doing now. The money that is allocated to culture, for the whole country, always goes to the same things: opera, art, dance, carnival. But now we are going to allocate it to living culture points. And I need a caravan that goes to different towns across the country and brings the communities together and celebrates their local traditions and knowledge. And you already have the caravan and the know-how. You already did it in 16 other countries, you have the experience. Please, do it here.’”

The Rainbow Caravan for Peace spent four more years travelling around Brazil. This would be the first funding the caravan and its tribe received.

“The only time when we had institutional money was when we were working with the Ministry of Culture of Brazil, with Gilberto Gil. There he gave us money to repair the vehicles, to buy a truck, to have better equipment, and for the first time each of the members of the caravan received what was equivalent to 100 reais a month. The rest of the time, there were no wages, there were no privileges. I was never privileged, I worked in mechanics, in the dry latrines, in everything that had to be done. The caravan years took me from 50 to 64 years. Then I remembered the Beatles song ‘When I’m Sixty-Four’, and I decided that it was time to head home.”

In 2009, the World Social Forum Gathering was taking place in Belem de Para, where the Amazon River meets the Atlantic Ocean. The event attracted 150,000 people and discussions ranged from the protection of the Amazon Rainforest to alternative economic models. El Coyote decided it would be the ideal setting to end the Rainbow Caravan of Peace’s epic voyage.

“When we got to the forum we built a circus tent for 500 people. Sound, lights, costumes, cooking, everything. By then we knew how to set this stuff up, we called it ‘The Village of Peace’ and hosted talks and shows. After it ended, I told the tribe ‘this is where my journey ends, I’ll stop here. Whoever wants to continue, can continue.’ And I gave away one of the buses, and the other one I sent to Mexico thanks to donations. The one that is parked here.”

In the 13 years of travel, 450 people joined and left the Rainbow Caravan of Peace from a total of 17 different countries. El Coyote was the only one that travelled the entire time.

“I have done all this as a service to Mother Earth, as a volunteer for humanity. On that trip it became very clear to me, especially after having lived for a long time in the towns around the Andes with the Aymara peoples, that Pachamama comes before anything else. We ecologists knew it, we knew that the Earth was not ours, but that we belong to the Earth, but it is one thing to know it and another to live it.

“The Aymara, they live it. Their concept of Sumak Kawsay (good living) is still alive, which means caring for Mother Earth. So having learned that lesson, at a certain point I realised we cannot exclude the legal part of the rights of Mother Earth, it can’t just be a ceremony, it has to become law. And then I read that Evo Morales, who was the President of Bolivia at the time, had brought the first Declaration of the Rights of Mother Earth to the United Nations, and I said to myself ‘wow, well that’s what I want to do from here on out.’ So in 2009, I closed the chapter of the caravan in Belén de Para.”

Back in Mexico, El Coyote returned to Huehuecoyotl. He was then hired by the local municipality of Coyoacán to implement his workshops at the neighbourhood level, he called these “eco-barrios” (eco-neighbourhoods) and he spent three more years holding the same eco-technique workshops around the southern part of Mexico City, with the same bus that had criss-crossed the Americas.

“We created a small group of ten people and travelled to ten neighbourhoods of Coyoacán. We mainly held a training program of 40 to 50 eco-techniques, from how to build an ecological house to how to teach at an ecological school. The idea was to give the local leaders of the communities the tools so that then they could develop their own projects.”

Many of the neighbourhoods they entered were dangerous, controlled by gangs and narcos. Yet, El Coyote and his team would arrive and the first thing they would do was put on their signature theatre show, this would make them stars with the neighbourhood children and therefore grant them protection from the local gang leader. El Coyote reminisces that despite the areas of high risk that he worked in, nobody from his team was ever hurt. At the end of the training courses they would bring the students back to Huehuecoyotl for a weekend.

“We brought them here to camp and for three days we showed them how to build what they had learned in the workshops. For example how to make a solar panel, or how to make a rain catchment system, build compost toilets, etcetera. Many of the attendees had never lived a week without witnessing a shootout. We would host singing circles around a fire and cook-outs outside. Everyone always left inspired.”

After his neighbourhood work, El Coyote was engaged by the Governor of Morelos to become the State’s Director of Environmental Culture.

“So I started doing things like I’ve always done. I still had the truck, we still had the samples, we still had a number of things, and I started trying to do them in the state. And it didn’t work. I began to see that there was a blockade on the part of the Secretary of Sustainable Development, who did not want me to do anything but sit there from eight to five every day. So I knew I wouldn’t stay long, but during that time I did manage to install an ecological house in Cuernavaca’s main park. A beautiful ecological house with ten eco-technologies: ten solar panels, bicycle pumps, a rain catchment system, an orchard, everything. Next to it we set up a large cultural centre and began hosting events that celebrated Earth Day, Water Day, the day against open-pit mining. Such were the things that we celebrated, instead of ‘Saint Day’ or ‘Independence Day’ or ‘Revolution Day’. Everything we celebrated was related to ecology. That didn’t go well with the Governor.”

After his stint in Mexican institutions, in 2015 El Coyote returned to his home of Huehuecoyotl and shifted his attention to the realisation he had had at the end of his voyage, to focus on spreading the Andean vision of giving legal rights to nature.

“In the summers I would go to Italy and friends would organise a tour for me all over the country in several different towns. I would usually stay two to three days in each place. One summer I visited 25 towns. In each I gave talks, hosted gatherings, opened temazcales and at the end of each visit I delivered ‘The Universal Declaration of the Rights of Mother Earth’ to the Mayor, as well as a flag of peace to put in their municipality. I did the same in Switzerland and Spain too.”

Since the pandemic El Coyote has been promoting the legal rights of Mother Nature online instead, while also publishing memoirs of his adventurous life.

“I decided from a very young age not to live a normal life and not to live only one life. So all those who speak of their past lives and how their souls had reincarnated from Napoleon or Cleopatra etcetera. Well I decided not to investigate my past lives, but instead live many lives in one.”

Alberto Ruz Buenfil lives his life in service to Mother Nature. Many projects and organisations emerged thanks to the Rainbow Caravan of Peace’s work across the Americas. The eco-techniques developed in Huehuecoyotl are now being taught at universities in Mexico; his legendary gatherings still bring hundreds of environmentalists together every year; and Coyoacán is the neighbourhood in Mexico City with the most urban food farms, thanks to his eco-barrios initiative. El Coyote’s achievements are a testament of how environmental change emerges through strengthening communities with creativity and consciousness.

“I always quote the same phrase from Martin Luther King: ‘even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.’”

You might also like: International Mother Earth Day

Isabella Cavalletti is a storyteller and co-founded eco-nnect.

The post El Coyote and the Rainbow Caravan of Peace appeared first on eco-nnect.

On a quiet Monday morning, I took an Uber to meet with Joahna Hernandez, the marketing director of arca tierra, a project rehabilitating chinampas in Xochimilco. As I headed south from the center of Mexico City at 7am, I was surprised that it only took me 30 minutes to reach the famous channeled wetlands.

“Here we sow water and harvest the sun.”

11 percent of Mexico’s biodiversity can be found in Xochimilco, a town that once fed the citizens of Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec Empire that is now Mexico City. Even though you may recognise Xochimilco, you may not be aware of these facts, as Xochimilco is largely known for its coloured trajineras (wooden rafts), where tourists drink cocktails while listening to traditional music while travelling along the last surviving traces of the Texcoco Lake, which once flooded the Anahuac Valley. The history of Xochimilco is a lot deeper than cocktails in plastic cups. The Xochimilca people have lived in the valley for over 1000 years, and were the first of the seven nahuatl tribes to occupy the lake. They expanded through the valley and survived on the lake by developing an agricultural technology known as chinampas.

“The idea behind arca tierra is two-fold: to collaborate with local farmers for the recovery of agricultural production in Mexico City and for the preservation of the ancestral knowledge behind the chinampas. And let me tell you, it is not an easy job when the country is dominated by industrial agribusiness.”

“Lucio Usobiaga, arca tierra’s founder, always says that chinampas are the best example of how human beings can be forces of good and create more life and more biodiversity. We are in a time where we hear a lot of negativity, that humans are the worst thing that has happened to the planet. Here this is not the case. I mean, chinampas are really proof that human intervention can be positive, as long as we stop putting ourselves at the centre of everything. For example, here the centre, the objective, is to generate health from biodiversity.”

“It is said that Xochimilco once fed the city of Tenochtitlan, that numbered over 250,000. Apparently, they used to harvest corn seven times a year. Crazy, right?”

Comparatively, nowadays, industrial agriculture can harvest corn only once a year.

“A chinampa is an agricultural technique that uses the lake bed sediments to create concentrated vegetable gardens along the banks of the wetlands. The word chinampa comes from the Nahuatl chinamitl, which means surrounded by roots. This is because the land is full of organic matter. This is thanks to both endemic trees, like the ahuejotes or the weeping willow, and to the volcanoes that surround it. For over 3,000 years the volcanoes’ meltwater fed this land with minerals and nutrients. The nutrient rich lake bed makes the soil incredibly fertile, which is why the Xochimilcas created the chinampa method to be able to grow several crops and reap many harvests on small plots of lands.”

As we board our trajinera, it slowly makes its way towards a deeper area of the wetlands, and I notice how most of the land has been turned into football fields and few plots remain dedicated to agriculture. Yet as we set foot on arca tierra’s chinampa, the importance of maintaining this ancient technology is obvious: the land is teeming with life, and a multitude of different crops, flowers, and buzzing pollinators greet us.

“Many scientists that have ran soil tests here can never believe the amount of life in the organic matter. This is why germination in a chinampa occurs faster. Here we have at least 50 plants of five different species in one square meter, to take advantage of this incredibly fertile soil.”

Today Xochimilco spans 12,517ha (30,930 acres) out of which less than 1,000ha (2,471 acres) are still dedicated to chinampa agriculture. Joahna explains that several chinamperos have abandoned their lands in search for more lucrative job opportunities in the city. Arca tierra’s objective is to showcase that a chinampa can still provide a thriving and sustainable economic model for the local community.

“Arca tierra is a fully collaborative and experimental place. The idea is that everything we do here can be replicated in other places. And for that reason we have begun a farmer school. We will grant eight scholarships and each student will receive a full education in agroecology, as well as training in gender equality. Once they graduate, the hope is that they either work in a chinampa or rehabilitate their own. This way each student can generate jobs whilst ensuring that the knowledge is preserved. The idea here is that the chinampas become permanent work and not temporary agricultural jobs, demonstrating that farmers can fully support a family.”

Although their main income is selling produce directly to restaurants and stores in the city and running a Community Supported Agricultural (CSA) program, Joahna mentioned several different activities arca tierra is involved in, other than regenerative agriculture. Their chinampa can be rented to host private events, which often take the form of sunrise breakfasts cooked in traditional open fire ovens by local chefs, and they also invite school children once a month to learn about the chinampa method of farming.

“In Xochimilco there are no fruit trees, so we also work with a network of 35 farming families in other communities to provide our customers with fruits too. Our CSA baskets always have the basis of a Mexican diet: onions, tomatoes, chili peppers and garlic. Whilst everything else is seasonal. Through our baskets we also like to introduce people to lost tastes, adding to the baskets varieties that are not normally found on supermarket shelves.”

The homogenisation of food is a global issue, according to the FAO 75 percent of the world’s food is generated from only 12 plants and five animal species, despite having over 20,000 edible plants to choose from.

“Lucio spent this past weekend in his experimental vegetable garden, where he saves seeds and reproduces certain varieties. He always shares his findings with our network of farmers to promote biodiversity.”

This reminds me of the seed saving movement that is growing worldwide. Did you know that over 60 percent of the world’s seeds are controlled by four agrochemical companies? It’s time to take back control of the food system, and thus of our health too. Individual efforts like Lucio’s are therefore imperative to stimulate biodiversity in our now bland diets.

As we made our way back towards the docks, we spotted around 10 different species of migratory birds. Considering our proximity to one of the world’s largest cities, it was an incredible sight.

I asked Joahna if the wetlands are fully natural, the last remnants of the Texcoco lake?

“No. After the Spanish began draining the Texcoco lake and the city became more and more urbanised, the natural water flow was lost and the increased in human activity contaminated what remained of the lake and rivers. The lake was fully drained in the 20th century and the city’s rivers were all piped and covered with cement by 1950. So the water that made it to Xochimilco became very dirty. Eventually, they had the water go through a treatment plant, which is the water you see today.”

Tenochtitlan, the Aztec city the Spanish arrived at, was built on an island surrounded by six lakes and interconnected rivers. The Aztecs managed a complex hydrological system, including a stone levée, that could control the passage of water and minimize flooding. After the conquest, the Spanish destroyed the levée, bringing a series of devastating floods that incentivised the conquistadores to begin draining the lake. In the 1950s the last remaining rivers of the city — Mixcoac, Churubusco, and San Joaquin — were piped and sent underground. Today, they are home to the city’s sewage system.

Arca tierra has ambitious plans: to continue rehabilitating the lost agricultural art of chinampas, to keep feeding Mexico City with regenerative agriculture and healthy produce, and to fully empower the local community to live off their knowledge and their land. Yet their most emblematic feat is perhaps the eventual reintroduction of the axolotl in its natural habitat. The axolotl is an aquatic salamander that can only be found in Xochimilco, it is renowned for its ability to regenerate organs, including its spinal cord, heart, limbs and parts of its brain. Today it is estimated that fewer than 50-100 axolotls exist in the wild (although there are over 1 million in captivity).

“We have biofilters in the channels to clean the swamps and encourage birds to eat the carps that led the axolotls to functional extinction. We hope that through this method we can eventually reintroduce the axolotl to all of the channels and that it can eventually thrive again among the banks of Xochimilco.”

Arca tierra is the axolotl of Mexico City. It’s through projects like this that the city will regenerate its heart and limbs by preserving ancestral knowledge and providing economic opportunities while creating a biodiverse ecosystem. It is a model to study and replicate.

Isabella Cavalletti is a storyteller and co-founded eco-nnect.

You might also like this story: The Monarch of Mexico

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I visited London during the first two weeks of January. It had been six years since my last visit and I was quickly reminded of the city’s famous grey skies and drizzly rain. On a Thursday, when the grim weather passed and the sun emerged through the clouds, I went for an afternoon walk in the neighbourhood near the flat I was staying. I walked through Islington up to Newington Green, where I ordered a coffee in a bakery that doubled as a cafe. When my mug was empty I returned to the cold air, walking along the streets of Stoke Newington. I turned a corner and was greeted by two Christmas trees taking up most of the footpath, I laughed, judging whoever dumped these trees, appreciating the consumptive behaviour of Christmas consumerism. I walked another thirty metres when I noticed another tree lying on the pavement, parallel to the fence. Around another corner I walked by a house where a tree was laid across a brick fence and two metal trash cans. I went to cross the street and noticed another smaller tree, conveniently stuffed under a hedge.

I retraced my steps and took photos with my phone of what I had seen. I posted the photos to my Instagram profile and was greeted with many responses, the most common was a sad face emoji with a single tear. One friend said “So bizarre, to me this summarises the climactic expression of consumerism, kill a tree to stick a bunch of mostly oil based shit wrapped in other trees to then rip off, throw out. And then forget about the ‘gifts’ and throw out the tree. Humans are insane hey?”

While I appreciate that Stoke Newington is clearly filled with young families enthusiastic about modern western Christmas rituals, I reflected how I previously thought this was a progressive area that would be concerned about the developing problems associated with our environment. Another friend commented, “People could at least go plant it somewhere.” Surely there is a company that provides this service? A quick Google search presented a range of results, including this page from the British government offering alternatives to dumping trees on the street:

“Christmas trees are recyclable and can be shredded into chippings, which are then used in parks or woodland areas. Alternatively you can replant them, meaning you can enjoy your tree for years to come.”

This reminded me of a recent interview with filmmaker Luc Marescot. I asked Luc, if all the people in the world were sitting in his living room (where we were seated), what would he say to them? Luc had been speaking about the behavioural change he hoped to see in western society and this question inspired him to deeply consider what he would say. He began to speak to me as though I represented the world’s population, discussing the problem of lobbying and how many corporations take advantage of herd mentality through their marketing, particularly to children.

“McDonald’s is making toys and entertaining kids… Coca Cola is doing the same, and Nutella is doing the same, and all these big brands are doing the same, because they studied that phenomenon (of herd mentality) in our society. And where we can see that your children are impacted by this… go to a primary school with a big sheet of paper with 20 logos on it, no names just the logos, and the children recognise all 20 logos. You take a similar big sheet with 20 leaves of 20 different trees from their local land, maybe they will recognise the oak, but that’s about it, and so you can see there are some roots missing.

“So maybe I will say to these eight billion people, I mean most probably the parents and the grandparents, I would say do me a favour, just do one thing, go and plant a tree with your kid, because you are going to use the same mechanism as those big brands who anchor the taste of their products into your children and guarantee a consuming audience for many years. Just create moments of nature with your kids so they have that same phenomena but for things related to nature. If you plant a tree you create a moment with your child, with the earth on your hands, and then that tree will grow, so you can come back to it. Even if you don’t have a garden, even if you don’t have a terrace or balcony, just pick one tree where they sell the little trees, you go on a hike that you like, and you can find a place where you can plant this tree, wherever. And you plant this tree and you come back to it every year, every two years, every three years, and that will be part of your story, and maybe simple actions like this will lead to a better world.”

It’s a beautiful thought, which inspires a suggestion, particularly for the families of Stoke Newington: don’t buy a Christmas tree this year, buy a native tree in a pot that you can surround with presents, and on Christmas Day or Boxing Day go and plant it somewhere, a physical activity that will help you process all of the food you’ve eaten. Create a ritual that can be the centre of your Christmas celebrations for years to come. It will be a gift to your kids, your grandkids, your current and future family, and the natural environment you all call home.

Anton Rivette is a writer and photographer. He leads storytelling at eco-nnect.

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“It was in 1965 when I entered La Latteria… I wasn’t in the trade… Arturo taught me, perhaps I already had a predisposition for this job.”

Maria and Arturo Maggi met when Maria was 17.

“I worked for Coin,” the department store, “I was a girl. I am originally from Sicily. I came with my parents, but for me work was freedom. For me working was an incredible thing. There was a girl in my department who dated Arturo’s pizzaiolo.”

He was working at a fancy restaurant near the Central Station in Milan.

“This girl says to me, come and have a drink with us and I was introduced to him. We met, and it went from there. We dated for very little, because this job takes up all of your time,” but soon they got married, and soon after that, Arturo felt to leave the restaurant. He was walking down Via San Marco, in the north of the Milanese suburb of Brera, and “he saw this small place and said this will do for me and my wife.”

They opened La Latteria, and 57 years later, they’re still there.

I grew up in Milan, only two blocks away from La Latteria, but it wasn’t until my twenties that I truly discovered this cozy hole in the wall. I can still recall my friend’s astonishment when he realized I had yet to try their famed spaghetti al limone — he insisted we go together the next day. Since then, along with influencers, Japanese tourists and old Milanese families, I too have become a regular.

Recently, on a foggy December night, friends invited me to dinner at La Latteria. Maria approached our table with her warm smile and praised our scarpetta abilities. Then the newbie at the table asked “why is this restaurant shut on Saturdays?” They tend to their land on the weekends the regulars answered in unison. It was then that I realized that there might be an environmental story behind this little neighborhood spot. When Maria returned to our table I asked her if I could interview her, she nodded and told me to come back the next day.

“This is a home. I have a way of welcoming people as if they were family. My instinct, my character is to treat people as if they were my children. I don’t realize it but I’m like that with everyone, I always try to give my best, to please them. I always work with joy. Money will come to you, but we don’t do it for that. It’s a different kind of satisfaction when you work with passion. It is constantly working with your inner truth, that might take longer to pay you back, but that in the long run always does.”

She shared these pearls of wisdom whilst simultaneously stirring a pumpkin soup in the tiny old-school kitchen. “Would you like to try it?” she casually asked. “Of course!” It was delicious. “It boosts your immune system,” she replied. We then sat down for a coffee. I ask her what is behind La Latteria’s success?

“We have always maintained that in a city like Milan where one is forced to go out to eat, you have to provide meals that you can digest, you have to serve quality. We both come from the countryside, we know good produce. In fact, the first thing we did was buy land, not a house in Milan. Because [Arturo] says he went hungry during the war, he’s from 1938, where he was born, on top of the marbles [near Carrara] there are small plots of land where they could barely grow a little vegetable garden. So for him, food has always been sacred.”

Maria has been up since 5:45. She’s the first person to open the kitchen doors. “At La Latteria, many products come from our land, and it’s hard work, it takes up most of our weekend… but it’s Arturo’s passion, he says ‘Some people go to the gym, I like working the land outside in the open air’.”

“When we first bought the land we reared animals and had them slaughtered ourselves, he wanted the quality to always be the same. We even had a space in Milan that we paid for annually… but then the government forbade this. They introduced a new law that stated that the meat had to be vacuum-packed… and we had to stop… we even tried to make salame ourselves… goose salame. Once they even confiscated a bresaola from us! Everything now has to be labeled, helping big industries that can afford it. The government gets in the way of letting small producers like us make healthy products.”

I ask what else has changed in 57 years of work in this industry?

“The most notable difference is that the flavors of the past are no longer there. I will admit that in the last couple of years the quality has improved, but we had years, mainly in the late 90s with the growth of GMOs, that we suffered a lot. You have to look for quality and you have to be able to recognize it, but it becomes increasingly difficult. The vegetables don’t taste like they used to.”

As it’s winter, Arturo and Maria can’t supply their menu from their vegetable garden, so I met with Arturo at 8:30, earlier that morning, to join him on his grocery shopping at the bi-weekly farmers market in Brera. This is the same market my Dad and I have been visiting since I can remember, frequenting our go-to stalls. I was excited to see it through Arturo’s eyes, a true local who has been visiting the same stalls for over 40 years. I ask Arturo if the vendors have changed in the last 40 years? “Barely, maybe a couple have sold in the years, but usually the son keeps it going.” A family affair, like everything else in this country.

Our first stop is the cheese and preserves stall. Arturo and the vendor’s conversation is amusing, of mutual yet profound respect, of closeness. “I’ll stop by before lunch for a glass of wine and to say hello to your beautiful wife,” says the vendor. “Of course. In the meantime, give me a kilo of cipollotti” Arturo replies. He then turns to me, “do you know that cipollotti are healing? But you must keep them in your mouth for a little bit, the healing juices are in the cipollotto liquid.”

When I interview Maria, she speaks of Arturo’s famous interest in alchemy and how it was a passion that came to him. “One day we were at the beach and he had found a little book that sparked his curiosity. First he experimented with the saucepan, then he read every book available to him… he even found books in German and had them translated at the university. Of course he applies his knowledge in the dishes and in the vegetable garden, fermentation is important everywhere.”

At the market, the vendor reminds me “there’s a lot of influenza going around”, so I too order a bag of cipollotti. I go to pay. “Of course not, you’re here with Arturo!” the vendor exclaims.

We walk to the vegetable and fruit stall. My favorite. There’s about six different ones, so I’m happy to discover Arturo’s pick. His relationship with the stallholder is even funnier than the one he shares with the cheese vendor.

“Arturo please, buy your customers some real artichokes this time.” He mocks him. “You’re a thief with these prices!” Arturo retorts, he then looks at me and whispers, “this guy is crazy but he always has the best produce!”

Of course the fruit vendor also wants to make sure I don’t catch the crazy influenza going around. “Here, have some vitamin C you need it to protect yourself,” he says whilst handing me a huge and juicy orange. Delicious. It feels nice to be taken care of by relative strangers, it’s the beauty of Italian hospitality.

Next stop is the fishmonger. They already have what Arturo is looking for, about 30 small seppiette. Arturo seems pleased, as he crosses out the last item on his hand-written list. I wonder who’s handwriting it is, his or Maria’s?

Arturo has a gentle, quiet demeanor. You can tell he’s a dependable and loved persona within the community. Back in La Latteria, over our coffee, I ask Maria about their work/marriage relationship. “He practically raised me, we are eight years apart. He’s always respected me, and we’ve always been in tune. He’s never let out a bad word. He has a very controlled nature. He’s calm, I’m more anxious, this made us find a balance. I’m delighted to have married him, I wouldn’t change him.” Balance, the key to everything. I believe it’s this intangible equilibrium that creates the magnetism of La Latteria.

Arturo and Maria’s story has involved dedication, love, passion, trust, joy, community and respect for the land, values we have lost through the development of the west’s contemporary lifestyle. Yet as the world around La Latteria has changed in their 57 years of service, Arturo and Maria stayed true to their beliefs, watching the world modernize, whilst taking care of their community, providing a constant home away from home. “Success,” Maria explains “isn’t monetary but lies in small life satisfactions. For example when you receive a Christmas card from a family you’ve served for three generations, or when Obama’s chef mentions your spaghetti al limone in a magazine.”

Ultimately, Arturo and Maria do everything with attention, care and time — from the seedlings planted in their land, to the 40 plus year relationship with the market vendors, to their cooking and serving. In return they have been rewarded with love and praise from their loyal community.

So why is this an environmental story? For me, La Latteria truly embodies the term “slow food”. More technology, more things and busier lives won’t heal our relationship with nature. Arturo and Maria’s ideals and lifestyle reflect the shifts we need to solve the current environmental crisis, reminding me of the simple wisdom of respecting nature and its inherent cycles and rhythms, whilst following our passions and sharing them with care. It is a wisdom deeply ingrained in Italy’s food culture: love and joy can be transmitted through taste.

Isabella Cavalletti is a storyteller and co-founded eco-nnect.

You might also like this story: Merry Christmas

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In the lead-up to Christmas, I was sent different articles from different friends who encouraged me to write about the supposed psychedelic roots of the holiday. I welcomed their enthusiasm — “Christmas is pagan” — appreciating the growing interest in European folk traditions.

All of the articles explore the relationship between Christmas and the Amanita muscaria, a red and white mushroom that I first encountered while playing Super Mario Brothers as a child. I was unaware then that Mario’s growth, as he consumed these mushrooms, reflected his openness to the psychedelic experience. It was nearly twenty years later, when two friends went searching for these mushrooms in the north of London that I was introduced to these supposed gifts that grow under conifer and birch trees. I’ve never tried them, put off by the dedication required to prepare the Amanita muscaria for consumption, their toxicity requiring multiple rounds in boiling water before ingestion. But this didn’t put off eastern Siberian shamans. According to popular belief, the shamans would follow reindeer — who had a taste for these red and white treats — waiting for them to eat, digest and finally to urinate. The shamans would then drink the urine, which contained psychoactive materials, and traverse into alternate spiritual realms. Muscaria, in Latin, means fly — hence flying reindeer — and when you combine this with bearded Siberian shamans and red and white mushrooms that grow under pine trees, you have Christmas, or so they say.

Others say the roots of Christmas are the stories of Saint Nicholas, a Christian Bishop from Greece who is the patron saint of sailors, merchants, archers, repentant thieves, children, brewers, pawnbrokers, unmarried people and students. He is also the origin of Santa Claus, whose story was adapted by American poets from the historical accounts of the Saint.

Saint Nicholas was the Bishop of Myra, a small town in modern Turkey, around 280 AD. Living through the Great Persecution — when Roman Emperors killed Christian practitioners for going against the more prevalent spiritual traditions of the Empire — Saint Nicholas fought for his beliefs in the face of execution. He was imprisoned for his behavior, until he was released with the Edict of Milan, when Emperor Constantine ended all Christian persecutions. For hundreds of years, Saint Nicholas was celebrated on December 6th, his feast day, but the Reformation shifted this practice, centring end of year festivities around Jesus Christ.

One of the other articles spoke of Yuletide, and the celebrations that focused on Europe’s winter solstice, the longest night of the year, as days once again lengthen in time. Another article spoke of Santa Claus being an appropriation of the Norse god Odin, who travelled in a chariot pulled by goats. My favorite article was published by National Geographic, which looks at the birth of Jesus through a sociological lens. I appreciated its focus on the familial and social dynamic that may have been present when Jesus was born, how Mary’s pregnancy may have been viewed by her husband and her community, and the importance of a divine intervention to avoid potential death in the face of possible claims of adultery. Although very different to the culture I grew up in, the article’s focus on the relationship between Mary and Joseph inspired thoughts of my own family and the many Christmas celebrations I have shared with them.

I write this article in Lugano, Switzerland, in the home of my father. I grew up with my mother and sisters in Australia, and my Dad was travelling or based in Switzerland for most of my life. Although I remember convincing myself, as a five year old, that I saw Santa out of my sister’s bedroom window when walking around the house one Christmas eve, the myth of the bearded shaman quickly lost potency, and Christmas represented presents, food and family. My Dad would often come and visit us at Christmas, so the day always felt special because it was the brief moment my family would all come together. But as I got older, and my life shifted away from the family dynamic, Christmas celebrations have become more infrequent, as I have often been away travelling or living abroad.

I woke up today in my Dad’s spare bed. I got up and did some yoga, as I usually do, and then went to the kitchen to make porridge, as I usually do. My Dad and I related like we did yesterday, neither of us felt to give today more importance than any other. Dad cooked burgers for lunch, as there had been a special on the best quality patties at the local store. I then went for a walk to the top of the hill behind his home. I discovered a cemetery where Herman Hesse is buried, and a beautiful church, directly across the road, which was open. I went inside. The church was small, the light was dim, there was a mood to the space, accentuated by the recording of a choir singing hymns through speakers attached to the walls. I walked to the pulpit where a model of Jesus’s birth was positioned to its right. It reminded me of my Nonno, my father’s father who would recreate the nativity in a huge model in his living room every year. I left the church and walked back down the hill, towards my Dad’s home. I walked through the door and, soon after, my Dad opened a bottle of Amarone that he had been saving for a special occasion. We clinked our glasses, said Merry Christmas, and then both enjoyed a sip of the wine. It was good and as it descended through my body, I reflected on Christmas and what it means to me: like any ritual, its meaning changes with context and time.

Anton Rivette is a writer and photographer. He leads storytelling at eco-nnect.

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Disposable vapes have become all the rage through being marketed as the perfect solution for long-term smokers’ health, but also for the environment.

The vast majority of cigarette butts are made from single-use plastic and contain hundreds of toxic chemicals. These chemicals remain inside the buds once smoked and littered cigarette butts can persist in the environment for many years, releasing these chemicals to air, land and water, harming plant growth and wildlife.

Thus, because vapes don’t have the same elements as traditional cigarettes, they are seen to be “better”.

If everyone was using reusable and refillable vapes then yes, vaping is better for the environment than cigarettes. Although a significant proportion of vapes sold are disposable, 600 puffs and they can be thrown away. Although it states on disposable vape labels that they cannot be just thrown away into the bin with normal garbage, and vape companies as well as retailers don’t make it clear we should properly recycle vapes, so they end up in landfills. Once in landfills, vape pens can leak even worse chemicals than those in cigarette buds such as metals, battery acid and flammable lithium-ion. Additionally, these pens are made of plastic and thus it takes hundreds of years for them to break down naturally, and once they have broken down, the microplastics will stick around, leaking into the ground soil and water.

Another Article You Might Like: Guess who is sponsoring COP27? Major Plastic Producer, Coca-Cola

Just to give a bit more context of how many vapes one person could go through, a single disposable vape experiences the equivalent as a pack of cigarettes. For a pack-a-day smoker, that’s one vape a day, 52 vapes a year, all of which end up in landfill.

According to a report from Future Market Insights, the global disposable vape market is expected to reach $6.34 billion by the end of 2022. By 2032 this number will hit $18.32 billion. This indicates that the appetite for vaping will not go away anytime soon.

The main problem with disposable vapes is the lack of awareness on how to properly dispose of them. Even though it clearly states on the packaging not to throw them in the bin, how is the everyday user supposed to know to recycle them? Only 15% of e-cigarette users reported disposing of empty pods or disposable vapes by dropping them off or sending them for electronic recycling.

So there are two main ways you can dispose of your vapes: electrical recycling bins, either through curbside pickup or via a household recycling centre; and supermarket battery recycling bins.

I understand that vapes are fun and they don’t give off the same negative effect as smoking, as I have also used disposable vapes and I too did not understand the environmental repercussions of using them. However, after diving into research on their environmental impact, I realise how bad our vaping habit has become. So I implore you, if you care for the environment, invest in refillable pods.

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The umami texture of mushrooms has become kindred with the meat substitute market. Think mushroom steaks, their chewy texture and porous properties allow flavours to be absorbed by these natural delights. Whilst long a staple in home cooking, mushrooms as a dynamic food source are on the rise.

Plant-based brands such as Meati, a Colorado-based company founded in 2019 have pioneered the field of innovation using mushroom root, a superfood blend based on the chemical structure of mushrooms to design a protein-dense and highly nutritious meat alternative. Meati’s mission statement is “Starting With Nature. Always.”

They use the compound of mushroom spores or filaments as the vital ingredient which makes up 95% of their available products. Let’s take their Meati Classic Cutlet as an example, this finished product has 17 grams of complete protein, a key nutrient in our diets allowing us to absorb the molecules in amino acids, vital to bodily functions and most commonly associated with animal products like eggs, meat, dairy and seafood.

Protein has become a nutritional obsession in recent years, but not without reason, as muscle growth and recovery are dependent on an adequate intake of this macronutrient. Happy minds and bodies require movement and our tissue repair essentially depends on getting your daily dose of protein.

Mushroom root otherwise known as mycelium has a long heritage in sustainable crop cultivation and has helped feed human populations for centuries and plays an important role in indigenous conservation leadership. A regenerative crop, this highly resilient biodynamic plant can be found growing naturally in cool damp woodlands where they provide water to plants and improve aeration, mushrooms have even been found in the burned areas left in the wake of wildfires. 

Regenerative agriculture counteracts the harmful impact of industrial farming by working with the land to increase biodiversity and enrich soil sources and ecosystems. The main aim of regenerative agriculture is to seize carbon in both soil areas and atmospheric biomass, in turn counteracting global trends of atmospheric warming.

Cultivating mushrooms works in natural symbiosis to recycle organic matter and support plant growth. Networks of fungi are responsible for converting dead matter into nutrients for the soil. Therefore fungi and plants reciprocate a natural balance and promote rather than deplete vital soil reserves. Mushrooms are also natural carbon dioxide warriors, absorbing C02 from the atmosphere.

Mushrooms are miraculous. As plant-based companies like Meati highlight they offer us an alternative sustainable and nourishing food source to animal products, especially for those who value a clean complete-protein source. Fungi properties operate as natural allies to flourishing soil and forestries supporting a shift towards more regenerative agricultural practices.

The post Mushrooms, materials and magic appeared first on eco-nnect.

Patagonia’s founder, Yvon Chouinard, has just announced that he and his family will donate their 98 percent share of the company, valued at $3 billion dollars, to fight climate change. Patagonia was founded 50 years ago, in 1973, by Chouinard, a passionate rock climber with a strong enthusiasm for encouraging the preservation of the planet.

The Chouinard’s family shares will be now owned by a collective known as the Patagonia Purpose Trust and the Holdfast Collective, with the purpose of reinvesting all profits that aren’t reinvested back in the Patagonia business towards fighting climate change. The collective estimates that Patagonia will be able to contribute $100 million a year, depending on the financial health of the business. In Yvon Chouinard’s public statement about the decision he states:

‘We’re making Earth our only shareholder’

The word sustainability and all of its meanings are deeply engrained into the roots of Patagonia’s history and it continues to play an important role in the ethos of the company. The company’s vision statement literally states: “Build the best product, cause no unnecessary harm, use business to inspire and implement solutions to the environmental crisis.”

Patagonia is completely aware that they are operating in a business space where profits are prioritised with zero care for the harm done to the environment, however Chouinard has decided to take the company in another direction, highlighting quality over quantity, so that consumers are purchasing investment pieces and limiting their clothing consumption.

To further emphasise how seriously Patagonia takes their environmental commitments, the company has achieved a B-Level rating from B-Labs, which evaluates businesses on their impact on their major stakeholders: its workers, customers, community, and the environment. B-Labs also ensures that the companies it certifies maintain a level of transparency over their products and their impact.

Furthermore, Patagonia is a member of the Sustainable Apparel Coalition and 1% For The Planet, rejecting fast fashion products in favour of high-quality and long-lasting products that offer a repair and reuse program.

If there is any company in the fashion world to put on the fight for climate change pedestal it is Patagonia. Their commitment to the environment combined with the way that the company has been able to use business as a way to fight climate change is a lesson that other companies in the fashion world can take notes from. Ensuring that we only buy from businesses that prioritise the planet as part of their business model really is the only way we can ensure, that we, as stakeholders, have a greener future. Not only for us but for all generations to come.

Another Article You Might Like: How To Tackle Fast Fashion

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Have you ever bought a t-shirt that you have worn once or twice at most?

So-called Fast Fashion, the production of clothes that are “consumed” within a few weeks, being thrown away or forgotten, is the cause of untold environmental damage, besides being a source of exploitation for millions of workers in developing nations.

Did you know that the textile industry has a greater environmental footprint than aviation and shipping combined? The main culprit rests on the creation of garments with an extremely small production cycle (from 15 days up to two traditional years, from conception to marketing.)

Another article you might like: The True Cost

But, even if fast fashion seems cheap, it is not: someone, somewhere is paying the price.

What is the problem with fast fashion? Fast fashion brings to the market clothes that capture a temporary fashion – and therefore the average life of these products is reduced to a few weeks

• 3 items out of 5 end up in a landfill
• textile manufacturing causes one-fifth of industrial pollution
• over 200 tons of water used in the production of only 1 ton of colored fabrics

Not to mention the conditions of the workers:

• 93% of workers in the sector do not receive the minimum wage
• 68% of fast fashion brands do not respect gender equality
• different substances used in the production processes are carcinogenic

Another article you might like: It’s a Cotton World

What can we do?
Here are 5 actions we can do to shop consciously:

1. to find out about the companies’ environmental/ethical profile
2. buy less clothes, but with a higher quality that last longer
3.  Don’t let clothes in landfills: resell, exchange, or reuse (an old shirt can become a rag)
4.  Stop following trends: fast fashion follows trends that last just one season.
5.  Pay attention to your washing practices to extend the life cycle of the garments.

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