#she sew leather products with machines at some factory for a while

[yellow-yarrow]

When I'm watching a sewing tutorial and everything is going well but then the person in the video is like "ok now set up your sewing machine like this" and they show a touchscreen on the machine fhkskfksjd girl I have a sewing machine from the 70s

[whittlebaggett8]

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s tweet about workers being paid ‘less than the value they create’ is essentially a restatement of Marx’s Labour Theory of Value — here’s why that’s interesting, Defence Online

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AOC slammed Ivanka Trump on Twitter for not understanding how wages work.

source

Hollis Johnson / Defence Online; Win McNamee / Getty Images

Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez tweeted, “Workers are often paid far less than the value they create.”

That is essentially a restatement of Karl Marx’s “Labour Theory of Value.”

The theory suggests that economies run into trouble when workers can’t afford to buy the products they are making.

Investment bank analysts at Citi, HSBC, and Macquarie are worrying over the same issue.

There are so few rich people, and so many people sharing a declining portion of wealth, that the next recession might actually be exacerbated by the inequality that low pay has created, these analysts argue.

You can’t successfully run an economy based on the spending power of a tiny number of rich people.

Late last month, US Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez tweeted a criticism of Ivanka Trump, who had said she was against the idea of a guaranteed minimum wage because “I don’t think most Americans, in their heart, want to be given something. … People want to work for what they get. So, I think that this idea of a guaranteed minimum is not something most people want.”

Ocasio-Cortez responded, “A living wage isn’t a gift, it’s a right. Workers are often paid far less than the value they create.”

That caught my eye because it is essentially a restatement of Karl Marx’s “Labour Theory of Value,” and it’s not often you see that discussed in the mainstream media.

If all workers are paid less than the value they create, then there will never be enough workers to buy the things they make

Prior to Marx, the “value” of any product was regarded as pretty much the same as its price in the marketplace. It’s how much you would pay to avoid making the product yourself, according to Adam Smith (1723-1790). The reason you might spend $100 on a pair of shoes is because even though $100 is quite expensive, it’s a lot easier than making a pair of shoes by hand, yourself, Smith said.

Marx (1818-1883), who was a big fan of Smith, was more interested in how products acquire value as they come into existence. A cow doesn’t slaughter itself and magically transform into a pair of leather shoes. That only happens because workers apply labour to the cow’s corpse, turning its skin into leather and then sewing that leather into shoes. Only after labour has been applied do shoes have any value. It’s the labour that creates the value, not just the fact that the shoes can be traded for cash.

If you accept that, then it becomes immediately obvious that what Ocasio-Cortez said is correct. Workers in a shoe factory are paid far less than the value they create. They have to be. If 100% of the money from shoe sales were paid directly to the workers then the factory would go out of business: There would be no money left to pay for electricity, and there would be no profits to invest in more efficient shoe-making machines to help the factory compete in the future.

But that raises a contradiction. If all workers are paid less than the value they create, then there will never be enough workers to buy the things they make. Let’s say our shoe factory has one worker who makes five pairs of shoes per day, and these sell on the market for $100 each. The factory makes $500 per day in sales. The worker’s wage is $10 an hour for a 10-hour day. So the worker is paid $100 per day. The worker can only afford to buy one pair of shoes even though she has made five.

At first, this doesn’t feel like a problem because, obviously, there are billions of people on the planet and they all need shoes. The factory can definitely sell those other four pairs to someone, somewhere. What concerned Marx was the fact that, ultimately, every single worker on the planet, in every office and factory, is paid less than the value of the goods they create. It is not possible for all the goods being produced to be bought by all the workers making them. In addition, there is almost always a reserve army of unemployed people who can’t afford to buy anything, exacerbating the problem.

The tendency is for the system to collapse, Marx believed

The tendency is for the system to collapse, and for recessions to destroy shoe factories whose customers are too poor, or not numerous enough, to buy all the shoes, Marx believed. This collapse can be staved off, he argued, if the shoe factory goes to great lengths, for instance by investing in new technology allowing that shoe worker to double her productivity and make 10 pairs of shoes per day (or maybe the same number of shoes at a lower price).

But the collapse is only pushed into the future. New technology will be also be acquired by all the competing shoe factories, squeezing profits – and squeezing some factories out of business. And if the factory buys shoemaking machines instead of hiring new workers, then it still faces the problem of producing more shoes than can be bought by the workers making them.

By amazing coincidence, Ocasio-Cortez then tweeted a chart of workers’ pay increases compared to their productivity increases, to make the point that even when labour becomes more valuable it does not share the rewards:

In fact, wages are so low today compared to actual worker productivity that they are no longer the reflections of worker value as they used to be.

Productivity has grown 6.2x more than pay:https://t.co/Zh5n46EfPQ pic.twitter.com/J7ctQ8TXPO

— Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (@AOC) February 26, 2019

It is impossible for capitalists to pay workers the full value of their labour without going bankrupt

That is a vast over-simplification of Marx’s analysis, but you get the gist.

Marx thought capitalism was inherently unstable precisely because workers are not paid the full value of their labour, and precisely because it is impossible for capitalists to pay them the full value without going bankrupt. It’s one of the internal contradictions that capitalism cannot resolve.

Of course, not all profits are invested in new equipment. Factory owners take a slice for themselves, and it tends to be a much bigger slice than the workers get. There are reasons for this, of course. It was the capitalists’ money that brought the factory into existence, and the inevitable collapse can be avoided if the profits are diverted into a new venture, like a hat factory, that might create new jobs (for workers who can then buy shoes).

Whatever they do, the bosses get richer than the workers. Now you have two sets of people, both doing the same thing (making shoes), but being paid wildly unequal sums for doing so.

Which is another way of saying that “workers are often paid far less than the value they create,” as Ocasio-Cortez tweeted.

AOC and the investment banks are on the same side of the debate

She isn’t alone in worrying about what workers get paid. Over the last few years, a surprising number of investment bank analysts at Citi, HSBC, and Macquarie have published research that says inequality and low pay may lead to recessions, or at the very least hold back economic growth (which ironically even makes the rich poorer).

These people are not Marxists, obviously (although like Marx they are economists). But, like Marx, they are concerned that inequality in the US and the West is becoming so extreme that ordinary people won’t have enough money to keep the economy going.

The charts in this story all show the same thing: The share of national income going to the top 1% of earners is increasing, while the share of income going to the bottom 50% of people is declining. The rich are getting richer. And the rest of us are sharing an ever-smaller slice of the pie. The bottom 50% of people in the US and Europe now share just 13% of national income.

source

HSBC

What if we run out of rich people?

The top 0.1% own close to 20% of all household wealth in the US, according to a paper by Gabriel Zucman, an economics professor at the University of California, Berkeley.

This is a problem, the investment bank people say, because there aren’t enough people with money to keep capitalism ticking over. “Income inequality is cited as another factor in the stagnation process as a few wealthy individuals cannot drive an economy by themselves,” Citi analysts Tobias M Levkovich and Lorraine M Schmitt told their clients in 2015.

Two analysts at Macquarie, Viktor Shvets and Perry Yeung, said something similar last year. They cited work by Moritz Kuhn and Moritz Schurlarick, published by the Federal Reserve of Minneapolis in 2018, and by Emmanuel Saez and Thomas Piketty, which said:

The bottom 25% of households has a negative net worth (ie they are in debt).

The population between 25% and 50% only owns only 2% of national wealth.

The share of the “middle class” between 25% and 75% dropped from 15% in 1989 to only about 8%.

The top 10% control about 77% of national wealth.

Over time, the top 1% increased its share from 27% in 1989 to about 40% in 2013.

source

HSBC

“In other words, wealth has not just accrued to the top 10%, but it went almost entirely to the top 1%,” they told clients. “The middle class creation in 1950s-70s has clearly been replaced by a middle class compression over the last three decades, certainly since late 1980s.”

If the West goes into recession the fortunes of the rich might make it worse

Janet Henry, an economist at HSBC told clients in 2018 that the accumulation of wealth by a tiny minority might actually hold the economy back. “Income inequality suppresses consumption given the lower marginal propensity to consume of higher earners and can be negative for growth if the savings of higher earners do not push up productive investment spending but get parked in property or government bonds,” she wrote.

“Income inequality, which often goes hand in hand with a lack of social mobility, also creates disparities in life expectancy, education, skills levels and labour mobility that will impact on future productivity and growth potential. This has implications for government revenues and their ability to fund public services and future liabilities. Given the huge structural factors – from demographics to technology – that are contributing to the growing income polarisation, it is not something that will miraculously dissipate on the back of one or two years of robust growth,” she said.

Worse, if the West goes into recession then the fortunes of the rich will make it worse, she says, because the poor don’t have enough money to withstand it. “The depth of any downturn, when it finally happens, could be amplified by this income and debt distribution,” she told clients in a note late last year.

In other words, the richest 1% might buy a lot of shoes, but they cannot possibly buy enough shoes to keep all the shoemakers employed. You need workers with enough money to buy shoes, too. And that means – as AOC tweeted last month, as investment bankers have been worrying about since the 2008 financial crisis, and as Marx wrote 200 years ago – that it is very important to consider what workers are paid in relation to the value they create.

The post Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s tweet about workers being paid ‘less than the value they create’ is essentially a restatement of Marx’s Labour Theory of Value — here’s why that’s interesting, Defence Online appeared first on Defence Online.

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[teenycabb]

from where we stand

Well, this here’s the first chapter of whatever monstrosity that my brain unleashed. There’s not gonna be a lot really happening, it’s largely a buildup/background chapter needed to reorient yourself into this AU. Happy reading!

Also on FFN.

Words: 8,519

Somewhere in the Eastern Mountains, Amestris, 1905

It was the sharp ring of the bell that signaled to the workers that the work-day had ended. Twelve hours they had stood on their feet, performing the same task over and over and over again, baking under the high heat radiating off of the large machines that they worked on. Often standing hunched over their machine, performing tedious work with hardly any feeling in their hands, fighting from breathing in the dust and stray particles in the air.

But it had been a good day. There had been no major accidents. Nothing for them to halt the production line while the machine was being repaired because someone had leaned too far over and their loose items became caught in the machine.

Riza remembered the sight of Mary-Ann Arbor being hauled out, half of her scalp ripped from her body, simply because she had leant too far over and one of her beautiful red braids had gotten caught in the machine. They had taken her home to her family, where they bandaged their wounds as well as they could and prayed desperately for her to make it against odds and survive the night. Their prayers had not been heard and young Mary-Ann was dead by morning.

Riza solemnly buttoned the many buttons on her coat before grabbing her pail that served to carry the lunch she never ate and made to leave the factory. She would be back before the sun broke over the horizon in the morning, and give another full day’s work. Only for the cycle to repeat itself over the next day, and the day after that. Only stopping for the one day of rest required by the government, only for her ten to twelve hour shifts to begin again until the next day of rest.

It was a dull existence, but it provided food for the table and a way to keep the bank off of their property.

Riza pushed her way through the doors and out into the frozen realm outside. The wind immediately bit her face and sucked her breath away, but Riza barely noticed. It was late at night and she still had to pick up some things from the general store before she could return home and make dinner for her father. And she had to hurry, because there was only a short window of time before the general store closed it’s doors for the night. Then again, on a night like this, it was entirely possible that they would have closed their doors early due to the snowstorm.

But still, she had to try. The store would not be open before she returned to work in the factory tomorrow, and the item was something she desperately needed.   Slowly, but surely, Riza made her way through the near deserted streets until she reached the main strip. Here there was no one outside. Everyone was inside their homes or their shops, out of the frigid cold and tucking in for the night. Riza afforded herself no time to be jealous of what they had at their disposal. It would do her no good in the long run. She would only descend quickly into a world of despair and loathing similar to her father’s.

Through the snow, Riza made out light coming from the general store’s window. A sense of warm relief spread through her cold bones. Even if they were closed, someone was there and would let her pay for what she needed. The Havoc family had known her mother’s side of the family for many generations, or so she was told. Her mother had died when she was barely old enough for primary school, and nearly all information she received was secondhand about that side of the family. She hadn’t realized how well-liked her mother had been before she died.

But how was she supposed to have known? Her father never spoke of her mother. He barely spoke to Riza at all. Even if she was the reason they hadn’t been kicked out onto the streets yet.

Stomping her worn boots against the wooden deck, Riza made her way up to the front door. The moment she cracked it open, she could feel a rush of warm air escape into the winter air. It carried with it snippets of conversation and laughter. Riza hurried inside to keep as much of the atmosphere and heat inside as possible. Snow swirled around her as she shut the door.

There was a pause in the conversation as the man behind the counter looked over to see who had come in. His smile widened when he saw Riza standing there, and held up a finger to the people he was talking too, before coming over to greet the customer.

“Miss Riza, you look nearly frozen. Don’t tell me you plan on heading back home in the storm out there?” He asked, despite knowing full well that she did. She always did.  “Why don’t you sleep here for the night? You won’t have to walk that mile into town for your shift tomorrow morning.”

Riza smiled at the older gentleman. Old Jacob Havoc was always insisting on doing things for her, like he saw her as one of his own daughters. Riza always would decline his offer. Oftentimes giving the exact same reason why everytime he asked. She couldn’t stay away from her father for very long, not with his health. It was a pitiful excuse, her father’s health grew worse every day, and due to his stubborn refusal to seek medical treatment, it was unlikely that he would last far into the new year.

“It’s a kind offer, but I really shouldn’t leave my father alone much longer.” Not like she hadn’t left him alone for nearly twelve hours at this point.

“Of course, of course.” Jacob Havoc stepped back and began to peruse the shelves behind the counter. “I can assume that you’re here for the usual then?”

“Yes sir.”

Jacob grabbed a lone paper-wrapped parcel and glanced warily at it. His eyes flickered from the small item to Riza and back again. There was something going on at the Hawkeye residence, and it was more than just Berthold’s failing health. But it was none of his business to pry; Riza’s old man had a temper that would put the wildest wolverine to shame.

“Did any letters come in today for me?” Riza asked, gently picking at a loose thread of her coat.

“No, nothing came. Sorry.” Jacob took a look at the young woman’s face to see if there were any clues as to what she was waiting for. It had been the third time that week that she had come into the store—which also functioned as the town’s post center—asking if there was anything for her in that day’s shipment with the train.

“May I ask what it is you’re so eagerly awaiting?” Jacob said handing over the small parcel to her.

Riza’s small coin count was pushed back to him in payment for her goods.

“You may ask.”

Jacob frowned, but let the matter slip aside. There were many secrets that spun around the Hawkeye’s. Rumors as well. But such was the nature of living in a small town and keeping nearly entirely to themselves. People were inclined to whisper nasty things in the ears of anyone who would listen to them. Most were blatantly false. But there was still something about them. And Jacob could feel in his gut that some weren’t as benign as Berthold and Riza played it off to be.

“Alright dear, but I expect to get the answers I seek out of you sooner or later. I always do. Remember when Jerome broke his mother’s sewing machine when he was a boy? Crazy brat attempted to convince me that the fairies were the ones to break it.”

A sudden protest from the back room broke through to the front, as the son protested against his old man. Jacob only laughed at his son. Riza smiled politely and tucked her small parcel into the interior pocket of her coat.

“I appreciate what you’ve done Mr. Havoc, but I really must be going now.”

Jacob Havoc’s eyes told her that he wished to protest her venturing out into the winter storm, but his mouth remained shut.

“Good night then, Mr. Havoc.” Riza nodded politely to the portly man and tugged her scarf over her face before walking out into the storm.

The winds had not improved within the ten minutes that she was in Havoc’s store. If anything, they had gotten worse. Riza had only walked a few meters away from the store and could no longer see the light that emanated from the window. The winter’s wind bit through her only pair of boots at the widening gap of the seam between leather and the sole. One hand pressed her scarf tighter against her face, while the other followed a fence to ensure she never strayed from the road. One too many persons had frozen to death that way.

Riza’s pace was steady, despite the increasing numbness in her feet and hands. There would only be a few more steps until she reached the rope indicating where the walk to her house would be. Then it would only be a short walk to the front door where she would be able to have refuge from the wind for the night. A short walk and a prayer that the sharp wind hadn’t broken the rope while she was gone.

It hadn’t, and Riza made it to her front door with no incidents.

The house was nearly as cold inside as it had been outside. Striking a match, Riza lit the kerosene lamp on the table in the entryway before removing her winter clothing. Once her outdoor clothing was hung to melt the snow that had piled on the outside, Riza took the small parcel from the store and her lunch pail into the kitchen. The food would hold until tomorrow, it had been removed from the heat of the machinery where she worked. Her purchase was tucked under the sink alongside where the last purchase was kept. Hopefully she wouldn’t need it any time soon.

The floorboards of the ceiling above her creaked, and Riza’s heart sank. If he was still in his study this late at night, it was unlikely she would be able to get some of her own studying done. Not while her father was awake and expected her assistance with his.

Nevertheless, Riza prepared a quick supper to carry up to him. Perhaps he wouldn’t need her, and she could finish the chapter on Amestrian history she’d been working on for the last week. She had finally made it to the Alchemical Riots of 1765 and the complete condemnation and subsequent banning of alchemy in the country. Arguably one of the biggest events that changed the future of Amestris. Not that many really cared about it in any rate.

Most were too concerned about the technological advancements that had been made that allowed Amestris to become the leading industrial and mechanical power that it was.

Lost in her thoughts, Riza carried the tray up the stairs to her father, careful to avoid the rotten step midway on the stairs. She’d been meaning to fix the step for months now, but there was never enough time to do it. There didn’t appear to be much time coming up to fix it either.

Gently, Riza knocked on her father’s study door. There was the sound of a chair being scraped along the floor followed by heavy footfalls as her father marched over to the door. It was flung open and Riza found herself looking up to her father’s displeased face.

“Riza! There you are girl! Where were you when I called for you an hour ago?” He gravelly voice growled at her.

She had barely opened her mouth to explain that the weather had caused the delay in her return home, when her father grabbed her arm and pulled her into the study. The supper she had been carrying was haphazardly discarded to the side as Riza was steered towards the dividing screen in the corner.

“You know what needs to be done. I would like to finish the-” Berthold broke from his sentence in a fit of coughing before continuing. “The code before the month ends.”

From her position behind the screen divider, Riza undid the buttons on her dress down to her waist. Slipping her arms from her sleeves, she tied the sleeves together behind her, before slipping on a specially crafted apron to cover the front of her body. The exposed skin of her back revealed a partially completed alchemical array. She emerged from behind the panels and took position on the table that had been her place during the nights for the past month.

The cold winter storm outside was warmer than the needle used to penetrate the skin of her back.

“Are you alright Riza? Something seems a little off about you today.”

Riza and some of the other coworkers she worked with in the factory had been granted twenty minutes for them to eat and use the facilities. An unexpected occurrence as they had not yet been able to fill the vacant spot Mary-Ann’s death had left in the factory and were behind on production. It had been a week since the last midday break that anyone of them had, and Riza was already getting used to the limited food intake.

That fact was making it difficult for Riza to swallow the pitiful sandwich she had brought with her.

“Excuse me?” Riza broke away from the swirling mess inside her head to glance at her coworker.

The girl was a pretty thing. She had brown curls that were cut close to her head. An outcome that came due to Mary-Ann’s death most likely. Riza herself had cut her hair shorter after the incident as a precaution. But despite the overall pleasant appearance, there were clear signs of her occupation, in the grime on her face and clothes, and on the callouses on her hands.

“Are you feeling ill?” The girl asked of Riza. “Perhaps your back is giving you trouble?”

Riza froze, any thoughts that could have been in her head before gone. It wasn’t showing was it? No, it couldn’t be. She had ensured that she was wearing the dress with the highest neck to keep her father’s work from being spotted as it encroached on the back of her neck. It was also one of the darker ones, as to keep the red ink from being seen through the fabric. Only as an extra precaution though; her underclothes assisted in keeping the lower parts of the tattoo hidden.

The truth of the matter was her back was giving her a little bit of trouble. Her father had been working on the upper portions of the tattoo, having finished the bottom already, and Riza found the skin was a little more tender approaching the back of her neck. Perhaps it was because there wasn’t as much between her skin and the bones underneath as there had been on the lower portions of her back. Not that there was much in those portions in any case either.

But she couldn’t let anyone know that her father was working hours at night to transcribe his notes onto her skin. His secret notes. His forbidden by the government, if discovered it would lead to arrest and likely imprisonment, if not death, alchemical notes.

And that was only what would happen to him. There would be no telling what they would do to Riza, the harborer of the notes. Would she be forced to undergo ways that would rid her back of them, permanently scarring her without attempting to obtain their secrets? Or would she be forced to wait as they decoded her father’s work while she could do nothing to stop them?

No. She wouldn’t let anyone use her the way her father was. Never again. She would take that small amount of savings she had set aside from her meager paycheck and leave when her letter came in. She would start over in a new place with a new identity, far away from Riza Hawkeye.

“Riza? Are you sure that you’re alright? You drifted off a little on me there.” Riza looked at the concerned face of the young woman next to her.

“I’m fine, Ellen. Just a little tired I guess.” Riza attempted to give a small smile to reassure the girl of the lie she was attempting to sell.

Before Riza could gauge how well her lie had gone down with the younger girl, the bell rang again, indicating the only break they received for the day was over and everyone was to head back to work. Riza placed her mostly uneaten sandwich back in her pail and returned it to it’s place before she resumed her position in front of a machine larger than her. Six more hours and then she would be able to return to her father’s house.

But only after checking again if her ticket out of this little town had arrived.

By the time her shift had finished five and a half hours later, the minor twinges of pain emanating from her back had grown and multiplied to the point where she could barely straighten her back from bending over the machines all day. The medication she had taken before leaving the house that morning had worn off well before her only break, and she hadn’t the time to grab more to accompany her lunch as she left that morning.

With every caress of her heavy woolen dress, the only one she had for the frigid winter months, the irritation across her upper back grew until it was almost as if her father had not bothered with the secret array, but had simply lit her back on fire. Her shoulders screamed as she stretched and slid her arms into the sleeves of her frock coat. Nothing seemed more appealing than laying in the few feet of snow outside and allowing the cold to numb her whole body.

Even if that were the most appealing thing to come to Riza’s mind, it was one of the last things she was about to do. She still needed to drop by Havoc’s to see if the letter she had been waiting weeks for had finally given her the excuse she had been seeking, before returning to the house and taking care of her father. If that letter had come, she would be putting her plan into action that very night. The bell above the door chimed as Riza pushed her way into the store and post office. Jacob Havoc was handing over a full bag of sweets to a couple of the local children, but he looked up and waved to the blonde woman that had walked through the door, indicating that he would be with her in just a moment.

Riza raised her hand in acknowledgement and meandered over to look at some of the other stuff that was available at the store. Most of which she would be unable to purchase, but was nice to look at anyway. Perhaps one day she would be able to afford such things.

It was a nice thought.

She wasn’t kept waiting very long as Jacob shooed the youngsters from his store and waved Riza over to the counter.

“I’ve got a letter for you, Miss Riza,” he said holding out an envelope across the counter.

Riza wasted no time. The moment the letter was in her hands, the paper was being torn and she was reading the words. This was it. The moment of truth. Her opportunity to make it out from under her father’s thumb and make her life her own again.

But the further she managed to read down the page, the lower her heart sank. Her application was denied. She would remain here with her factory job, and her father.

Her disappointment must have appeared on her face, because Jacob reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong, child?”

Riza looked at the older man and bit her lip. She could feel the heat in her eyes as tears attempted to push their way to the surface, but she refused to allow them to come. Tears would do nothing for her. They hadn’t when her mother died and her father began his crusade.

She offered him the letter.

It only took him a few moments to skim through the entirety of the thing. The closer to the end that he got the more his face contorted, like he was sucking a sour pickle. When he was finally done reading Riza’s letter he set it aside and grabbed one of Riza’s calloused hands. He closed his hands around hers and tugged her a little closer to the counter. Riza didn’t resist and took that extra step closer.

“They’re fools, all of them. You’re a brilliant woman, and any academy should consider itself blessed for you to grace their halls with your intellect.” Jacob attempted to smile at her. “How long have you been planning on leaving?”

Riza swallowed. Longer than she would admit aloud.

Jacob seemed to understand and patted her hand a couple of times before letting go. He took a step back and reached under the counter for a moment. When he returned he was holding one of the small sacks he had used earlier in the evening with the children and their candy. From the slight bulge to it, Riza assumed he had slipped some sweets in there for her as well.

“A gift. Don’t you worry about paying me back for it, it’s on the house tonight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Havoc. I appreciate the kindness,” Riza said, taking the bag from the older gentleman. It wasn’t likely that she was going to eat any of the sweets inside, she had never been one to have the ‘sweet tooth’ as others. They both knew she was likely to hand the sweets inside to one of the village children, or save it to distribute amongst the other factory workers.

Riza slid the little bag into one of the pockets on her coat when the door to the store was flung open. Jacob’s son, Jerome, was bracing himself against the doorframe attempted to slow the way he was gulping the air into his lungs. Both Jacob and Riza started toward the young man.

“R-Riza! Come quick!” Jerome gasped. He raised his head to look at his father and Riza. “It’s your fa-father!”

“My Father?” Riza appeared at Jerome’s side and helped him to stand up straight. “What happened with my father?”

There were a million thoughts racing each other through Riza’s head. Had her father’s time come? Had the illness he had been fighting for the past months finally captured her father in it’s talons? Would he still be around for her to say her goodbyes? Had someone discovered that he had been researching alchemy for the past few years? Had they found him? Would someone come for her?

All of these thoughts were gone within a split second of entering her brain. Riza gripped Jerome’s upper arm tightly.

“What happened, Jerome?! Tell me!”

Taking a breath, Jerome looked Riza in the face, brown eyes to brown eyes.

“The military. I overheard them at the station. They want your father. I don’t know why, but they do. I told Jessie to stall them while I warned you, but I’m not sure how long she’ll be able to do it.” Jerome turned to his father. “What would the military want with Mr. Hawkeye? I doubt a ill recluse would be of any real interest to them.”

But Jacob wasn’t looking at his son. His gray eyes rested resolutely on Riza’s figure. He couldn’t see the face she was giving his son, but he didn’t need to see it. Jacob could read her as well as he could read any of his own children. And he could see with the way every muscle in her body tensed and the way her hands were clasped around Jerome’s upper arm. In the way her shoulders rose and her head dropped.

Riza was desperate.

It only took her a second to let the impact of Jerome’s words to sink into her brain before she let go of Jerome’s arm.

“I have to go.”

Riza didn’t look back as she ran out into the winter atmosphere outside. She ignored the calls of Jacob and Jerome as she sprinted as fast as she could toward her house.

She needed to warn her father. She needed to get him out of there. He was harsh and neglectful, but she didn’t want him to be tortured by the Military. She never wanted that.

All she had wanted was to be free. To be Riza Hawkeye outside of her father’s influence.

Still, with each step on the compacted snow, she ran closer to her house. The wind pushed at her back, encouraging her to move faster. If Riza listened closely to the wind while ignoring her own breaths, she thought she could make out the sounds of military vehicles following her. If they were back there, they would overtake her within minutes.

She pushed her legs harder as she pushed those thoughts aside. To dwell along those thoughts would be to hinder herself.

“Father!” She shouted as soon as she flung the door open, uncaring if it slammed into the wall behind it. It was unlikely that they would be able to return.

“Father! Where are you?” Riza took the steps two at a time. “We have to leave! The military is here! They know about your work!”

Riza threw open the door to her father’s study without bothering to knock, an infraction that had led to severe punishment when she was younger. Taking a couple steps inside, Riza saw that the study was empty. Not just of her father, but of everything that had been in there the night prior. All the materials he had used to permanently disfigure her back with, gone. The ink and the needles. The scraps of paper her father had composed the pattern the tattoo was to take form of. Even the scrap of fabric that she had worn during the process was gone. Was she too late? Had the military come and cleaned out everything?

“Hold your tongue girl! We don’t need your voice announcing to the world my work!” Berthold Hawkeye appeared from his bedroom and limped toward his daughter.

Riza was unable to deny herself the relief she felt at the sight of her father walking toward her, free from restraints.

“Father! The military-!”

“Are on their way. Yes girl, I heard you when you were shouting for me. Grab your bag, we’re leaving.”

Berthold shouldered past his daughter and continued down the stairs with a light satchel slung over his shoulders. He didn’t look back at Riza once to determine if she was following his order or not.

Riza didn’t allow herself any time to allow the fact her father was still free to sink in. The military was still coming, and they were both still in danger. They needed to make their escape quickly if they wanted to stay out of federal prison. Or hanging from a rope.

There wasn’t much that Riza grabbed when she went into her room. Some clothes, her good shoes, and a few personal toiletries. She closed the small bag and slung it across her shoulders and hurried to rejoin her father downstairs. She reached the door when she remembered something that she couldn’t bear to leave behind.

As quickly as her legs could carry her, she ran to her bedside table and pulled open the drawer to withdraw the only item inside. The golden locket and chain threw the light that it caught onto Riza’s face.

Inside was the only picture she had left of her mother. It had been a portrait taken a few months after Riza’s birth. Riza was resting in her mother’s arms as she sat with her father standing just behind them. Her mother’s face was slightly smiling, so contrary to most of the other portraits that Riza had seen others have. Even her father’s face was softer.

Of course that had stopped once her mother died.

Clutching the locket tightly in her hand, Riza dashed out if the room. There was no time for her to properly secure it around her neck at the moment, and to leave it in her bag or one of her pockets would only tempt fate further.

And she was not about to do that.

Her father was waiting for her in the hall. Berthold’s icy-blue eyes watched her land every step on the stairs until she was on the floor a few feet in front of him.

“Come, our escape awaits us just over the hill in the clearing.”

Riza nodded and followed her father out the back door and through the snow. With the recent snow-storm they had had, their tracks would not be hard to miss once the military arrived and found that they were no longer in their house. Riza hoped they would get far enough into the woods to put some distance between them before they arrived. Perhaps make it all the way to the clearing.

The clearing was a forbidden place for Riza. All through her childhood years, she had be able to roam anywhere she wanted on the mountainside. There were no neighbors to worry about the young girl trespassing on their property, and the carnivorous wildlife had been driven from the area due to the wealthy in town hunting for sport, rather than sustenance. The only rule was she needed to have sight in the house at all times. And crossing over the hill into the clearing did not have a line of sight to the house.

The snow was deep and hindered their escape. In addition, the extra strain from the exercise exacerbated the cough that was in Berthold’s lungs. They could go no more than a dozen or so feet before Berthold would have to stop and bend over as he fought to regain his breath.

It worried Riza. But not as much as when she noticed the small red droplets falling in the snow.

“Father!” She cried out. Her arms reached out to catch her father as he collapsed against the ground.

Using the strength she had, Riza heaved her father from his face-down position in the snow to a resting position against a tree. Blood trickled down his chin and splattered against the collar of his coat. Riza knelt in front of him and attempted to wipe the blood on his face away. His feeble hand caught her wrist.

“No. It’s my time.”

“But, Father, I can—.”

Her sentence was interrupted by the sounds of wood cracking and glass smashing. Riza whipped her head around to look down the hill toward where their house was. Shouts followed soon after the crashes. The military was there.

They were going to get caught.

“Go, leave me behind.” Her father’s weak voice turned her attention back to him.

“I can’t. Not when they’re so close behind us.” Riza swallowed at the lump that had formed in her throat. This hadn’t been what she wanted. She didn’t want to part like this, a fugitive from the government with her father knocking on death’s door.

“Listen to me. Get to the clearing. You’ll find means of escape there. Start over. And whatever you do, do not let anyone see the code on your back. Go. Go!”

With a feeble shove against her wrist, Berthold pushed his daughter away. For a moment Riza only looked at her father, torn between obeying and not. But something in her face hardened, she nodded once, and left.

As Berthold watched his only living relative escape higher up the mountain, he settled himself in place, waiting to be found. With a quick scrape of a pocket knife, he carved a transmutation circle in the bark of the tree he rested upon. He pressed his two fingers against the rim of the circle and activated it.

A gust of cold mountain air blew down and wiped all traces of Riza’s footprints away.

“Goodbye, and good luck, brave daughter,” he whispered into the empty air. His eyes were closed before the military arrived with their guns drawn.

Riza had reached the crest of the hill before she considered taking a pause for breath. Even then she only spared a moment to look back from whence she came. The clearing was only a few dozen feet ahead of her. She would be able to get in whatever vehicle her father had stashed up there and disappear before the military could catch her.

Descending down the side of the hill to get to the clearing wasn’t as easy as Riza had hoped. The snow covered everything underneath it, disguising the ice and exposed tree roots from her keen eyes. Several times she stumbled or slipped as she descended.

A small unfrozen creek appeared between the banks of snow. Riza let out a startled yell and clamored to regain her balance. It wasn’t until she gripped the trunk of a nearby tree that she stopped herself from falling into the freezing water.

Taking a moment to regain her breath and to evaluate how to get across without dropping anything into the water, Riza rested her head against the tree. What was she doing? She had nowhere to go. Her application had been denied and had no family left.

She hit the tree with her fist. This hadn’t been what she wanted when she talked of freedom.

Her back burned worse than ever.

“She went this way!” A man shouted.

Riza turned to face where she had come from to see a lone soldier standing upon the crest of the hill between the gaps of the bare trees. The blue of his uniform contrasted greatly against the snow underneath his feet and against the gray-brown of the tree bark. Riza could not make out his face, the distance between them was too great. But she knew if he looked hard enough he would be able to spot her through the mass of trees around her. The dark green of her coat would see to that.

Clutching her mother’s locket tightly in her hand, Riza backed away from the tree. She was going to have to jump over the creek. One slip and she would fall into the water below. Riza swallowed and took a deep breath.

There were only a short few steps to build up enough speed to clear across the divide. It wasn’t enough, but there would be no going back. Not once her feet left the ground and she was flying through the air. She thought she could hear the soldier at the the top of the hill cry out at her leap, but that didn’t matter.

The moment her boots touched the ground again, she was running.

Everything hurt. Everything burned. Her back, her legs, her side. Never in her life had she run for so long or so fast.

Finally it was within reach. The trees around her were beginning to clear out and Riza could see the clearing. The deepness of the snow grew the further out from the interior of the forest she ran. It hindered her progress slightly, but Riza only lifted the skirts of her dress and moved forward with a wider stride. She was so close to achieving her escape. She couldn’t fail now.

With a bang, the bark on a tree in front of her splintered and flew in every direction. Riza’s run stuttered before she continued on. It didn’t take her long to process that it was a gunshot. That they just shot at her.

“FOOL! We need her alive! She may be the only key to the old man’s research now!” Someone screamed behind her.

Just a few more feet. Just a few more.

The clearing was empty. Void of anything but snow.

“No.”

Riza spun around in the center of the clearing. Desperately looking for anything she could have missed when she first dashed into the open space. But there was still nothing. No vehicle, no horse. Not even a visible path outside to take outside of the clearing. Nothing but snow and the bootprints she had created once she ran in. Riza sunk to her knees. Her hands were bare, but she gripped at the snow in front of her anyway.

“Major! I found her!”

Riza barely lifted her head to watch a soldier emerge from the woods with his gun drawn and pointed at her. He wouldn’t shoot her. She knew. The military needed her alive to expose her father’s secrets to them. Even if they didn’t know they only needed the array on her back. She didn’t need to be alive for someone to discern it.

It didn’t take long for the soldier’s superior officer to arrive.

“Well done Cadet. Now, arrest her. I would very much like to get out of this hell hole they call a village. Hopefully, we will be able to get back to the station and leave before the weather takes another turn.”

Riza didn’t have to look up to know that the weather was beginning to turn. The wind was picking up, whipping Riza’s short blonde hair across her face. Loose snow was lifted from their resting place on the ground and swirled around everyone standing in the vicinity of the clearing. Light flashed from the sky as the clouds rolled down through the mountains.

She waited. Her freedom was gone, slipping from her grasp before she even had the chance to fully grasp it for her own. The moment the iron cuffs were strapped her wrist she would become a non-entity. Another faceless and nameless victim that would be long forgotten as soon as those who knew of her died.

A sudden shout drew Riza’s attention from the snow beneath her.

“What the hell is happening?!”

Riza rose her head to see that it wasn’t the weather that was blowing the wind and snow around in the clearing. Nor was it lightning in the sky that was illuminating the area. It was lighting from the ground.

It was alchemy.

Startled, Riza attempted to pull her hands from the ground, but found she was unable too. Her hands were pinned to the ground as the transmutation grew in power. It was as if she were the one activating the transmutation.

But that wasn’t possible. Riza knew absolutely nothing of alchemy. She had asked her father to teach her what he knew when she was young and still in school, but he refused. His response was that he was not going to potentially lose his daughter to alchemy.

It didn’t take very much to see the irony now.

When Riza imagined performing alchemy when she was younger, she never imagined that it would feel anything like this. She didn’t expect there to be any pain involved. The sense of burning that had been on her back and in her muscles was back and it was intensified tenfold. It permeated down to the innermost organs and there was no relief in sight. She felt as every cell in her body was being torn apart from each other violently. If this was what alchemy felt like every time a transmutation was performed, she wanted nothing to do with it.

Distantly, Riza heard someone screaming. A voice in the back of her head told herself that it she was hearing her own screams.

She was being pressed upon from all directions. Had she the mental processes, she would have evaluated that this was how it felt to be fruit she crushed for their juice.  

The light from the transmutation was growing brighter. Riza had to turn away from looking at where the two soldiers had fallen backwards in their haste to clear the area. Alchemy was taboo, and hardly anyone knew what happened during the process. It was safer to retreat to a good distance away should anything unpleasant happen.

Using every ounce of energy that she had left in her, Riza focused on prying her hands away from the ground. If she could disconnect from the unseen circle, perhaps she could stop the transmutation and everything would stop and go away. Perhaps everything would go away.

She couldn’t keep the scream from leaving her body as she freed her hands from the snow. There was a moment of relief at the broken connection, before everything went dark and Riza collapsed into the melting snow.

The outskirts of Central, Amestris, 1763

The night was chilled. Only a light dusting of snow covered the flat ground outside the blooming city of Central. The winter had been a mild one so far, possessing none of the violent winter storms that had plagued them in the previous years.

It eased the hasty retreat of the three men on horseback.

“I thought you said that the Major wouldn’t be there for another few days!” One of them shouted.

“How was I supposed to know that he would come home early!” Another shouted. “I’m not all-powerful! I’m just an alchemist!”

A third man barked out a laugh. “An alchemist with the most extensive intelligence network I’ve seen! Your network rivals the king’s!”

The alchemist said nothing to either of the men he was riding beside. His grip on the reins tightened and he urged his steed to run a little faster, pulling ahead of the other two. The dark hood that was still clinging to his head slipped off, exposing the dark hair underneath.

The third man sidled up to the first once the space where the alchemist was cleared. A flop of blonde hair peeked out from the dark hat that was on his head.

“What’s the matter with him? So what, we didn’t get the intel we wanted. We’ll have another opportunity as soon as his informant sends her report.”

The first man sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose underneath his spectacles.

“It’s not that simple Jean. Were you not paying attention when we left? We weren’t headed to Central for the intel. We were there for the informant. There’s reason to believe that her cover was compromised, and that her life was in peril.”

“Shit.” Jean glanced back at the trail leading back to Central. “Shit, I’m sorry Maes.”

Maes pushed his spectacles back up to the bridge of his nose and stared at the back of their alchemist ahead of them.

“Don’t be bothered too much by it. The trouble we ran into was not your doing.”

“Still, I could have been more attentive.”

“Well, yes.” Maes gave Jean a brief look. Jean scowled back at him.

The horse in front of them slowed from its gallop to a trot, before it stopped completely on the trail ahead of them. Jean and Maes pulled on the reins of their horses to stop alongside their third man.

“What is it?” Maes asked. His hands drifted toward his hip where he kept a couple knives alongside a pistol.

Jean likewise rested his hand on the rifle that was slung beside him.

“Don’t you feel that?”

Maes and Jean glanced at their partner before glancing down at the ground around them. There wasn’t anything happening. Earthquakes were rare in Amestris, especially in the area around Central, but not completely unheard of. But there was nothing happening. Not even the tremor of loose pebbles on the ground from any pursuers.

“Roy, there isn’t anything to feel. If this is still about the informant we left behind in Central, you know that it wasn’t your fault. What’s going on with you?” Maes dropped his hand from his knives and reached out for the other man. Roy brushed off his concern with a swat of the hand.

“But it’s everywhere. How can you not feel it?” Roy turned to look at his friends, a wild look in his eyes.

“Listen. There’s nothing to feel. The only thing we should be feeling right now is the pace of our horses as we get a fair distance away from this place.”

Roy muttered to himself as he allowed his horse to move a few steps away from the other two. His attention was rapt to the mountains. He was oblivious to the exchanged glances of his companions and the short whisperings they shared concerning him.

“I have to get over there.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell are you talking about? There’s nothing in the mountains. It’s nothing but certain death to head—.”

The rest of Jean’s sentence was cut off with the sound of hooves beating against the ground with shouting accompanying them. The trail they had just come from began to illuminate under the light of handheld torches.

The military had caught up with them.

“Shit. Shit. Fuck. We gotta go.” Jean jerked his head toward the direction they were heading prior to Roy’s stop. He didn’t wait for any response before he took off.

Maes nodded and reached out. Without hesitating, he slapped the dazed face of his friend who had made no indication he was aware of the military being seconds from catching up with them. Roy had still been muttering that he needed to head up to the mountains when the sudden slap cut it off. When he had turned back to look at Maes there was a look of disbelief on his face as well as anger.

“What the hell? I bit my tongue.”

Maes only jerked his thumb back towards the oncoming party of pursuers before he spurred his horse to taking off after Jean. Roy glanced up to see the torchlight from where they had come, and was quick to follow after Maes and Jean.

Nothing was said between the three of them as they ran. Although it wouldn’t have mattered if they had. The military had caught a glimpse of Roy as he rounded the top of one of the few hills in the area, and their efforts doubled to catch up with the fugitives. And as soon as they reached the level ground again, they began to fire their muskets.

Aiming with most muskets would be difficult. Most times when someone fired, the slug would end up a few feet away in something that wasn’t being aimed at. Not entirely a bad thing when those being fired upon was lined up in a straight row, but on horseback aim was almost non-existent. But those were most muskets.

These were the military’s muskets.

Despite the proclamation by the king and the military that alchemy was the devil’s hand on earth and that it, and anyone found to be practicing it, should be cleansed from existence; Roy and the others fighting knew that the king’s government had been utilizing alchemy to modify their weapons to improve their aim.

Better aim combined with the highly trained officers of the Amestris military was a deadly combination. Whether on horseback or not, the men fleeing had lost more than one friend at the hands of a military officer and understood the dangers of what they were up against.

Which was why Roy was working frantically with the materials in his bag. If he could finish his calculations in time, he could have a live grenade to drop behind them and create some distance between them and the military.

“You better be working on a plan there Roy! Cause I would hate to end this hanging from the end of a rope. My wife will be severely displeased with me.”

If Roy had the mental facilities to spare, he would have rolled his eyes at his friend. Fortunately, Jean covered that for him.

“Of course he does! Gracia would kill him if he didn’t.”

“Alright, that should about do it.” Roy secured the flap of the small bag, and glanced over his shoulder to see how close the soldiers were behind him. Too close for comfort, but far enough where Roy and the others wouldn’t get caught in the blast.

Turning slightly in his saddle, Roy lobbed the small package after touching the circle that had been stitched into the leather. The shimmering light from the transmutation lit up the night far better than the torches some of the soldiers carried. Once the soldiers noticed the transmutation, they attempted to get out of the way, for they all understood what happened when Roy performed alchemy.

But it was too late. The bag exploded, sending soldiers flying from their horses, and engulfing everything within a fifteen foot radius within a ball of fire. Those that weren’t blown from their steeds or engulfed in fire reared back, torn between their order to pursue, and their desires to help their comrades in any way that they could.

The retreat of the three men slowed as they took in the damage created by the alchemic grenade, and to see if any of the soldiers would continue the pursuit. Jean and Maes had pistols at the ready in case anyone made it through the fire. None came through. Relieved that for the moment they were free, Maes and Jean holstered their pistols again.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m sure Grumman will want to know what happened tonight. And,” Maes directed his horse away from the burning aftermath of Roy’s attack, “I’m sure that he’ll want to discuss our next move, now that we’ve potentially lost a key informant.”

Jean agreed and moved to follow Maes’ lead.

Roy stared at the flames he created for a moment or so longer. Then his head gave a slight twitch and he looked around him, before resting his gaze on the two other men. He nodded to them and they began moving again.

As they continued along, no longer at the fast pace they had been before, but not slowed down to a walk, Roy could feel what had caught his attention before the soldiers had caught up with them. This time, he kept his mouth shut and focused on moving his horse forward.

But it still called to him. A vibration deep in his soul that told him to go up the mountains. To find what was causing the disturbance there.

Whatever it was, it would have to be dealt with later. He needed to finish his mission first, report back to Grumman, before he could go off and do anything as foolhardy as heading up the mountains to search for something he knew nothing about.

But he promised himself. He would go and find out what was calling him up there.

Even if he had to disobey orders to do so.

[biofunmy]

Who Made Your Clothes? – The New York Times

Rumsinah, 44

Role: Zipper operator at PT. Fajarindo Faliman Zipper, which focuses largely on in-house brands

Where: Tangerang, Indonesia

“Most of my co-workers and I are all old-timers,” said Ms. Rumsinah, who has been working at the same factory for 26 years. “It’s a good factory, so no one really quits. There’s seldom any job openings — only if someone retires.”

She is paid about 3.4 million rupiah, or $241, per month, which she said is tight as a single parent. Her son recently finished high school. “He can’t work at my factory because there’s no openings,” she said. “He wants to be a teacher, but we don’t have enough money to send him to go to university.”

Though her job is tiring, “all jobs are tiring,” she said. “At least weekends are off, and the hours are not too bad.”

Waheed, 38

Role: Sewing bedsheets and curtains at a textile mill

Where: Pakistan

Waheed, who is being identified only by his first name, has been in the textile industry for 20 years and works seven days a week to support his wife and two young sons. They share a house with his parents, his sisters and his brothers.

“Most factories place a lot of restrictions on garment workers. Once they come in for their shift around 8 in the morning, there’s no knowing when supervisors will let them out. It may be 8 p.m. or 10 p.m. by the time they are allowed to leave for the day.

Workers at my factory don’t have it as bad. That’s why I’ve been here for the past 10 years. It’s a nice place to work. But some of the resources that workers really need aren’t provided, such as first-aid kits or pension cards.

It’s pretty common to get your fingers injured — sometimes needles break and get stuck in your bone if your hand gets in the way of the machine. Then you have to go to the hospital and get X-rays yourself.

It’s difficult to manage on the salary I earn. My expenses amount to about 2,000 rupees a day, including the cost of my children’s clothes, their education, my family’s groceries and other bills. But I barely make 1,000 rupees a day.”

Seak Hong, 36

Role: Sews outdoor apparel and bags at Horizon Outdoor

Where: Khum Longvek, Kampong Chhnang, Cambodia

Six days a week, Ms. Hong wakes up at 4:35 a.m. to catch the truck to work from her village. Her workday begins at 7 and usually lasts nine hours, with a lunch break. During the peak season, which lasts two to three months, she works until 8:30 p.m.

Ms. Hong has been in the garment business for 22 years. She earns the equivalent of about $230 a month and supports her father, her sister, her brother (who is on disability) and her 12-year-old son.

She hopes he will not end up in a factory, too, but the price of a quality education — about $20 per month — is beyond her means. While she is at work, her sister manages the household, taking care of their oxen and rice farming their land for extra food.

“I feel tired, but I have no choice,” Ms. Hong said. “I have to work.”

Yurani Tascon, 34

Role: Tracks daily production numbers at Supertex, which works with major active wear brands

Where: Yumbo, Colombia

“They spoil us a lot here,” Ms. Tascon said. “It’s a job with good stability.” Her workplace blasts music — usually salsa or something traditional — from speakers throughout the day while employees make coats, bathing suits and sportswear.

At 11 a.m., employees get “pausas activas”: active breaks with music.

Sarjimin, 39

Role: Makes shoes for a comfort footwear brand at PT. Dwi Naga Sakti Abadi

Where: Tangerang, Indonesia

Mr. Sarjimin has worked at the same factory for about 12 years. The job is relatively stable, and his workplace is spacious, bright and safe.

He earns the equivalent of $250 a month, and his wife also works at a factory. The family is able to send their children, a 13-year-old and a 9-year-old, to good schools. They recently purchased a computer for their older son, who is passionate about technology.

Mr. Sarjimin farms catfish to supplement his family’s grocery money. He started six months ago, filling a big empty drum with starter fish as an experiment. Now he has two drums with 300 fish each, and he sells them to friends, family and neighbors.

One day, he would like to raise catfish full time. “There’s a motivational speaker I heard once, ‘You have to dare to dream, how to get there is a question for a different time,’” he said. “I like remembering those words.”

Saida, 38

Role: Sewing machine operator at Pinehurst Manufacturing, which works with major active wear brands

Where: San Pedro Sula, Honduras

The factory where Saida has worked for the last 12 years is one of the few in the area. She earns about 8,200 lempira each month, roughly $331. “It doesn’t cover everything,” she said. “Vivimos sobregirados.” (“We live overdrawn.”)

Saida lives with her mother and her 19-year-old daughter, who goes to school. “I am the one who provides everything at home. The house, the water, the electricity,” she said. “You have to stop buying certain things to be able to cover the necessities.”

Her unit currently has one primary client, a major sportswear brand. This is a source of anxiety for her and her co-workers because they fear mass layoffs if the client leaves the company. “It’s really difficult having one client,” she said.

Bui Chi Thang, 35

Role: Stitching denim together for sustainability-focused brands at Saitex International

Where: Bien Hoa, Vietnam

Mr. Bui has been at his factory for seven years. “It matches my skill,” he said, “and the salary is enough for my family.” He earns approximately 90 million dong annually, roughly $3,880, which he uses to support his mother, wife and son.

During the average nine-hour workday, “I can finish 1,000 to 1,200 pieces a day, depending on the difficulty,” he said.

Santiago, 48

Role: Sews clasps and zippers onto dresses, blouses and pants at a factory

Where: Los Angeles

“I’m from Guatemala. I’ve been doing garment work for 16 years. I started because it was the only thing I knew how to do after leaving my home country,” Santiago said. “I came here because there were not as many opportunities back home, and with six children, there are a lot of expenses.”

In the last five years, he has worked in five to eight factories. They are often windowless and dirty, with little ventilation, he said.

When he first moved to Los Angeles, Santiago was working 11-hour shifts, seven days a week. Now he works about 50 hours a week, taking home up to $350. The majority of his co-workers — around 30 other people — are Spanish speakers from Guatemala, El Salvador and Mexico.

“I’m just making ends meet,” he said. “I’m always trying to figure out how to save money, how to buy food, how to not eat out too much.” Still, he said it is better than what he was earning in Guatemala.

Maria Valdinete da Silva, 46

Role: Self-employed seamstress

Where: Caruaru, Brazil

The last factory Ms. da Silva worked at produced men’s street wear. She spent eight years there, stitching side seams together in an assembly line with an hourly quota.

“Some companies, like the one I worked for, no longer have employees inside the factory and the seamstresses work from home,” she said. “They establish small groups, tiny factories, and they are paid per item, so they basically have the same production without any costs.”

In order to make minimum wage, outsourced employees “have to work from day to night,” she said.

Ms. da Silva now makes women’s clothing independently, producing fewer pieces and selling them locally. She makes “maybe half” of minimum wage, but she said it’s worth it to work at her own pace. “I love what I do,” she said. “I no longer see myself in that situation of sitting in front of a machine doing the same thing every day.”

She is planning on taking fashion design courses soon. “Seamstresses are the key element in the fashion chain, we are the ones who put the clothes together,” she said. “You basically have to kill yourself in front of a sewing machine in order to provide for your family.”

Antonio Ripani, 72

Role: Leather quality control at Tod’s Group

Where: Casette d’Ete, Italy

Mr. Ripani, who began working with leather at 14, has been employed by Tod’s for more than 40 years, where he assesses “practically all the hides that arrive” for quality.

“Alone it’s hard to do everything, so I have a group of ragazzi [guys] under me and I have taught them everything I’ve been able to understand after all these years,” he said.

Mr. Ripani doesn’t earn much, he said, but he sets his own schedule, often working eight to 12 hours a day. He has assistants and has received awards for his highly specialized work.

“It’s not so much the salary, it’s that I am here because we’re all one family,” he said. “When I started, I had long hair. Now, I am bald.”

Rukhsana, 48

Role: Security at Sitara Textile Industries

Where: Faisalabad, Pakistan

Rukhsana began working in the garment industry shortly after her husband died seven years ago. She works seven days a week.

“The hardest thing about working in a textile mill is that management kind of cuts you off from the world for the duration of your shift. If anyone calls you from home — with good news or bad news — you can’t take the call and management doesn’t tell you until the day is over.

Two years ago, my nephew died in an accident when I was working. My brother tried calling me, but management didn’t tell me about it until my family had already held his funeral. I was so upset, I quit my job.

Now that I’m in security, I know when someone comes to the mill and tries to contact a worker. But I’m still not allowed to tell the worker their relative has been trying to reach them.

It’s not just difficult, it’s impossible to survive on the salary the textile mills pay. Are we supposed to choose between buying food and roti or paying for clothes and medicine? And there’s always rent to pay in addition to that.”

(Employees store their phones in a locker before beginning their shift, a company spokesman said in a phone interview, and they aren’t allowed to leave the organization “without any written acknowledgment from the manager.”

He said that family can reach employees on their cellphones or by calling the factory directly, and that he was not aware of any incidents in which family was prevented or delayed from contacting an employee during an emergency. )

Vu Hoang Quan, 21

Role: Sews dress shirts for mass retailers at TAL Apparel

Where: Binh Xuyen, Vinh Phuc, Vietnam

Mr. Vu has spent the last four years working on a production line with about 30 other employees, each overseeing parts of the sewing process. On average, he earns about 10 to 12 million dong (about $432 to $518) monthly. He sends most of it back to his family.

“My favorite time is at 3 p.m., when we have an exercise session,” he said. “We stay at our work spot. We pause our work process, line up and follow the exercise instructions of team leaders.”

He recently participated in a talent show hosted by the company, where he performed modern dance. “I don’t have plans to leave this job anytime soon,” he said. “I’m quite satisfied with it.”

Catherine Gamet, 48

Role: Leather goods artisan at Louis Vuitton

Where: Saint-Pourçain-sur-Sioule, France

Ms. Gamet began working with leather when she was 16 years old and has been employed by Vuitton for 23 years. “To be able to build bags and all, and to be able to sew behind the machine, to do hand-sewn products, it is my passion,” she said. “That’s how I got into it.”

About 800 employees work in Saint-Pourçain, spread out across four sites. Ms. Gamet said the workshops are well organized, bright and modern. “The time flies by,” she said.

S, 33

Role: Tailor making pants and socks for fast fashion and active wear brands at Shahi Exports

Where: India

S.’s shift begins at 9 a.m. She feels a lot of pressure from supervisors to reach quotas of about 90 to 120 pieces per hour and said many workers are afraid to take breaks or use the restroom because it will waste time.

Employees who can’t keep up are often pulled aside at the end of each hour, she said, and supervisors will yell at them and bang on tables. Many workers spend most of their 30-minute lunch breaks scrambling to finish more pieces to get back on track.

“We don’t even have the freedom to drink water,” S. said, adding that management doesn’t allow employees to bring in water bottles.

Instead, water is handed out by the factory. In the spring of 2018, the supplied water was making workers sick, and when employees gave management a letter with a variety of basic requests, including clean water, they were beaten in response. Their clothes were torn, and many of their valuables, including phones and jewelry, were taken.

The employees took their complaint to the labor department. The issues were resolved three months after the incident, after the factory faced public pressure from a report by an American watchdog group, social media and brands that worked with the factory.

Some conditions have improved: Employees get mineral water now. But the pay is still bad, S. said, and the main work space doesn’t have windows, air-conditioning or heaters.

“We want to ask for more salary, but people are scared after what happened last year to ask again,” she said.

(In an email, a spokesman from Shahi Exports acknowledged the 2018 incident and forwarded a statement outlining the preventive measures the company has since enacted.

In a separate email, a spokesman said that berating employees in any way “constitutes misconduct,” and instances brought to management’s attention would “initiate action” against the perpetrator.

“While we do strive to drive efficiencies, there is no scope to berate any employee on account of non-performance or deficient performance,” he said. The spokesman added that there “is adequate ventilation” within the work space and that the entire factory is “in compliance with the law.”)

S. is a single parent and picks up extra work in the evenings, along with taking out loans, to support herself and her daughter. “There are thousands of people” in her city in the same situation, she said. “My story is just one of them.”

Phool Bano, 38

Role: Tailor at Friends Factory

Where: Noida, India

Ms. Bano has been a tailor for about 22 years and works at a progressive factory that makes small batches of garments for high-end independent brands. The building has little luxuries like air purifiers.

“It feels nice working here,” Ms. Bano said. “It’s clean. There are some plants and trees also, you know, the kind that are meant for decoration.”

Helena Lúcia Santos da Conceição da Silva, 54

Role: Seamstress at Fantasia D!kas Roupas

Where: Nova Friburgo, Brazil

“I’ve always thought of myself as a seamstress. I even made my daughter’s sweet-16 dress. It looks like overlapping petals. It’s my greatest pride.

I start work at 7 a.m. We make everything: pants, shorts, tops. I work eight hours a day Mondays to Fridays with a one-hour lunch break. It’s a small company: me and five other seamstresses. We don’t have a quota. Here they value quality over quantity. I don’t even know how many pieces I work on in a given day. We don’t keep track.

Ms. da Silva does not make enough money from her day job, so she picks up extra work from private clients to complete on evenings and weekends, sometimes working until 10 p.m.

I prefer working for this manufacturer because I’m on the payroll, I’m entitled to vacations. It’s more secure. But my dream is to have my own atelier at home.”

Knvul Sheikh contributed reporting.

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Meghan Markle's royal-tour style cheat sheet: The top 10 brands to know and shop today

The top 10 brands to know from Meghan Markle’s royal tour. (Photo: Getty)

After 16 whirlwind days in Australia, Fiji, Tonga, and New Zealand, Meghan Markle and Prince Harry have finally ended their royal tour.

Throughout the couple’s travels, Meghan pulled out all the stops and delivered A-plus fashion looks at every destination. The duchess wore top-luxury designs from Givenchy, Brandon Maxwell, and Jason Wu, as well as pieces from lesser-known designers, like New Zealand label Maggie Marilyn and New York label Cuyana.

She also made a concentrated effort to wear outfits by several designers from the region she was visiting. For example, she wore looks from Australian designer Martin Grant and New Zealand designer Karen Walker on several occasions during the trip. Given that the “Meghan Markle effect” is very real, she has been able to increase the visibility of many designers simply by wearing a garment, a pair of shoes, or jewelry from them. In the past, she’s caused designer websites to crash, and during this tour, she has generated enough buzz for Outland Denim through her sartorial choices that the company could create new jobs from the sales.

To highlight some of the lesser-known designers whose looks Meghan has worn on this tour, Yahoo Lifestyle created a cheat sheet for the top 10 brands to know and shop today.

Meghan Markle wears a Self-Portrait dress to visit Tonga with Prince Harry, who wears a gray linen suit. (Photo: Getty Images)

Self-Portrait has easily become a go-to label for Meghan Markle. Established in 2013 by Han Chong, a Malaysian designer who studied at the prestigious Central Saint Martins art school in London, Self-Portrait is best known for dresses made with colorful lace, pleats, and ruffles. Chong is a genius when it comes to elegant, feminine dresses that have a modern flair. It’s no wonder that Chong has steadily grown an A-list roster of celebrity fans like Meghan and Reese Witherspoon. The duchess’s dress is a custom design by Chong for her visit to Tonga. The bright red color is a reference to the Tongan flag. You can preorder a similar version now, which will be available to ship on Dec. 14, just in time for the holidays.

Shop it: Self-Portrait Red Embroidered Midi Dress, $486, self-portrait-studio.com

Meghan Markle wears a Karen Walker trench coat in New Zealand during the royal tour. (Photo: Getty Images)

For Meghan Markle’s first stop in New Zealand, she fittingly chose to wear a plaid trench coat by New Zealand designer Karen Walker. Walker is a seasoned talent in the New York fashion scene. She’s best known for her avant-garde sunglasses but has a full collection with ready-to-wear fashions, accessories, handbags, and a fragrance. Aside from Meghan, her celebrity fan base is large, including Rihanna, Gigi Hadid, Lady Gaga, and others. Unfortunately, the trench coat color that Meghan wore is currently sold out, but you can find the same trench in dark navy below (another favorite color of the duchess).

Shop it: Karen Walker Banks Trench in dark navy, $750, karenwalker.com

Meghan Markle wears Rothy’s pointed black flats on the beach in Australia with Prince Harry. (Photo: Getty Images)

Meghan wore Rothy’s black flats while walking hand-in-hand with Prince Harry on the beach in Melbourne, Australia. Rothy’s was conceptualized by two men, Roth Martin and Stephen Hawthornwaite. The two men sought to create stylish, comfortable, and affordable shoes for women around the globe, all with sustainability in mind. They combined their business savvy and creativity to design a product that hits all the key points: style, comfort, and sustainability. Rothy’s flats have a carbon-free rubber sole and a seamless knit structure. They’re also lightweight and machine-washable. Rothy’s has a wide assortment of flats, as well as sneakers, in a variety of prints, such as  leopard, and bright colors — one for every type of personality.

Shop it: Rothy’s Black Solid, $145, rothys.com

Meghan Markle wears a chic white blazer dress by Maggie Marilyn in New Zealand. (Photo: Getty Images)

During a visit to the Courtenay Creative in Wellington, New Zealand, the duchess chose to wear a white blazer dress by 24-year-old local designer Maggie Marilyn. Her eponymous brand is barely two years old, but that hasn’t stopped the designer from garnering worldwide success. Her designs are sophisticated and tailored, all with an eco-edge. Sustainability is a core part of her business model. The majority of Marilyn’s clothing is manufactured in a factory in Auckland, 10 minutes from her studio. She uses fabrics like organic cotton, organic wool, and recycled polyester, all of which are ethically produced. She describes the Maggie Marilyn girl as a “feminist” and “an environmentalist” on her website. Although the Leap of Faith Blazer Dress that Meghan wore is currently sold out, you can still inquire via email for it. And if your heart still desires a white blazer dress today, you can find a similar version below.

Shop similar: Pretty Little Thing White Sleeveless Blazer Dress, $42, prettylittlething.com 

Meghan Markle wears Outland Denim jeans and a plaid blazer by Serena Williams while in Australia during the royal tour. (Photo: Getty Images)

Meghan Markle wore Outland Denim jeans with a Serena Williams blazer for a visit to Victoria Park in Dubbo, Australia. Outland Denim is an ethical and sustainable Australia-based denim brand. It was founded by James Bartle after he met an anti-trafficking group at a music festival. This kindled his passion to create a company that would employ young girls at risk for trafficking in Asia, utilizing their sewing skills to create a premium-quality product. Today, Outland Denim has a factory in Cambodia, where operations such as training and development, as well as wages, are set up to ensure the highest standards for its seamstresses. The jeans use ethically sourced materials and recycled materials for their packaging. After Meghan wore Outland Denim’s black skinny jeans, the company saw a record 948 percent increase in traffic on the site and is using its new sales to reinvest in the company by hiring 15 to 30 new seamstresses. A true example of the Meghan Markle effect.

Shop it: Outland Denim Harriet in Black, $195, outlanddenim.com

Meghan Markle wears a striped dress by Martin Grant in Tonga during the royal tour. (Photo: Getty Images)

Martin Grant is an Australian designer whose looks have been worn by the Duchess of Sussex on several occasions during the 16-day royal tour. For a visit to Tongan Prime Minister S. Akilisi Pohiva, she chose a green-and-white-striped dress from Grant’s Spring 2019 collection. Grant began his career at 16 when he launched his first ready-to-wear collection. Since then, he has served as the artistic director for Barneys New York’s in-house label and for Agnona before shifting focus to his eponymous label. In addition to Meghan Markle, Grant’s celebrity clientele has included Cate Blanchett, Emma Stone, and Queen Rania of Jordan.

Preorder: Martin Grant Striped Cotton Dress, $1,385, modaoperandi.com

Meghan Markle wears Castañer espadrille wedges with a Martin Grant striped dress during a visit to Bondi Beach in Australia. (Photo: Getty Images)

In a visit to Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia, Meghan paired her striped Martin Grant dress with a chic pair of black canvas espadrille wedges by Castañer. This Catalonian footwear label has a rich history dating back to 1776, when the family-owned company’s first espadrille designer, Rafael Castañer, was born. But it wasn’t until Lorenzo Castañer and his wife, Isabel, took over the company in 1960 that it became the worldwide business success it is today. In a strategic move during the 1960s and ’70s, Castañer partnered with Yves Saint Laurent to catapult the espadrille to fashion stardom. Today, the Castañer factory creates luxury espadrilles for Lanvin, Hermès, and Christian Louboutin, as well as its own in-house styles, like the pair Meghan sported.

Shop it: Canvas Wedge Espadrille, $129, castaner.com 

Meghan Markle wears gold leaf earrings by Pippa Small with a green Jason Wu dress while in Fiji during the royal tour. (Photo: Getty Images)

While in Fiji, Meghan Markle made a special tribute to Prince Charles by wearing gold leaf earrings and two bangles by British designer Pippa Small. The gold jewelry is from Small’s Turquoise Mountain collection, which involved working with artisans from the Turquoise Mountain Foundation in Afghanistan. It’s a charity, founded by Prince Charles, that provides employment opportunities in Afghanistan, the Middle East, and Myanmar by having local artisans continue their traditional crafts. As a child, Small used to love to play with beads and pebbles and would turn them into bracelets. This passion grew into a successful jewelry business whose creations are sold by luxury retailers around the globe. But similarly to the royal family, Small shares a passion for charitable projects, and like Charles, she is concerned with the welfare of indigenous and tribal groups. In the past, Small has worked with grassroots organizations in Thailand and India, and in 2013, she was awarded the MBE by Queen Elizabeth for her ethically produced jewelry and charity work.

Shop it: Pippa Small 22k Gold Peepal Leaf Earrings, $3,790, pippasmall.com

Meghan Markle carries a nude chain bag by Cuyana at the airport in Sydney. (Photo: Getty Images)

When departing for New Zealand at the Sydney airport, Meghan didn’t let her airport style slip in the least. She wore a burgundy Boss dress with a chic mini chain bag by Cuyana. The nude-colored bag is made of Italian leather and features gold hardware. Cuyana was founded by two women, Karla Gallardo and Shilpa Shah, and is based in San Francisco. Both women come from exceptional academic backgrounds — Gallardo from Stanford and Brown University and Shah from UC Berkeley. They combined their expertise in business and design to create beautiful, well-designed products for women everywhere.

Shop it: Cuyana Mini Chain Saddle Bag, $225, cuyana.com 

Meghan Markle wears a sky-blue shirtdress by Veronica Beard alongside Prince Harry in a gray suit while in Tonga during the royal tour. (Photo: Getty Images)

During a visit to the Tupou College in Tonga, Meghan wore a sky-blue shirtdress by Veronica Beard. The duchess has been wearing Veronica Beard designs for years, but this dress is especially stunning in its bright shade. Veronica Beard was launched in 2010 by two sisters-in-law, Veronica Miele Beard and Veronica Swanson Beard, who married two brothers. They bridged the gap between the coasts to create sophisticated and tailored clothing that a New Yorker would love, with comfortable fabrics and silhouettes that any Californian would want. As a female-led company, they strongly believe in putting women first and ensuring that their collections make women feel confident no matter where they are from. Unfortunately, Meghan’s sky-blue dress is sold out, but you can still snag it in red.

Shop it: Veronica Beard Cary Dress, $595, veronicabeard.com

Read more from Yahoo Lifestyle:

• Kendall Jenner sizzles in a red-hot puffer coat. Shop the trend, from $45  • Old Navy’s Sherpa coat is the only one you need for fall — and it’s under $100   • Meghan Markle sports the season’s must-have coat — steal the style starting at $50

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day.

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Final Evaluation

For this essay I plan to discuss how fashion has changed and developed over the years and also how pivotal moments and events in time have shaped fashion into what it is today. From the Suffragette movement in the Victorian era to the development of youth culture in the 1950s and the grunge culture of the 1990s, I will explore the development of unique styles and looks throughout time and also how designers have adapted to the vast changes. In my opinion, there are many different factors that have impacted fashion and I am going to guide you through my thoughts of the quick pace area that continues to constantly evolve to this day. I will choose around two major factors and explain how I think they have shaped fashion. For over a century there has been a numerous amount of events, social changes and factors that have impacted on the fashion we know today and shaped it into what it is. Beginning with the Victorian era where the invention of the sewing machine meant that producing clothing was much easier, as it didn’t have to be done by hand. Furthermore, the sewing machine was first patented by a French tailor in 1830, named Barthelemy Thimonnier and the machine included a hook-tipped needle, much like an embroidery needle, that was moved downward by a cord-connected foot treadle and returned by a spring. Like Thomas Saint’s machine, it produced a chain stitch. Unfortunately, this first invention of the sewing machine was short-lived as a mob of tailors saw that machine as a threat to their livelihood, and as a result destroyed the factory where they were being produced. Although an extremely, important invention to the fashion industry, I do not think that the sewing machine has really impacted and shaped fashion into what it is today. This is because, the machine itself has not inspired any styles or the development of designs for designers.

One event that I do think changed the fashion industry and lead to the development in women’s fashion, has to be the Suffragette movement. Most members of the suffrage movement were mostly women from middle class backgrounds, frustrated by their social and economic situation and seeking an outlet to create change. Their struggles for change within society, were enough to empower a movement that would involve mass groups of women fighting for suffrage. During the Victorian era there were lots of different groups that fought for the rights of women, however one of the most famous women was Emmeline Pankhurst founded a new organisation in 1903, the Women’s Social and Political Union, at the beginning of the Edwardian era. Pankhurst thought that the movement would have to become radical and militant if it were going to work. This meant much more violent protests.

One suffragette, Emily Davison, died after she tried to throw a suffragette banner over the King’s horse, Anmer at the Epsom Derby of June 5 1913. Many of her fellow suffragettes were imprisoned and went on a hunger strike as a scare tactic against the government. The Liberal government of the day led by H. H. Asquith responded with the Cat and Mouse Act. 

When a Suffragette was sent to prison, it was assumed that she would go on hunger strike as this caused the authorities maximum discomfort. The Cat and Mouse Act allowed the Suffragettes to go on a hunger strike and let them get weaker and weaker. When the Suffragette was very weak, they were released from prison. If they died out of prison, this was of no embarrassment to the government, however, some Suffragettes who were especially weak were force fed with tubes which went down their throats and into their stomach. This meant that none of those who were released died but they were so weak that they could take no part in violent Suffragette struggles. When those who had been arrested and released had regained their strength they were re-arrested for the most trivial of reasons and the whole process began again. This, from the government’s point of view, was a very simple but effective weapon against the Suffragettes. Nevertheless, protests continued in Europe and America. In 1918 some women were granted the vote these were to women over the age of 30 who were: householders, the wives of householders, occupiers of property with an annual rent of £5, or graduates of British Universities In 1928, British women won suffrage on the same terms as men, that is, for persons 21 years old and older.

In my opinion, I think that the suffragette movement impacted women’s fashion as it lead them to believe that they could make a change in their lives and be more daring with what they do and wear. They no longer wanted to be ruled over by men, instead they wanted to portray their new found freedom through every aspect of their lives. Including the clothing that they wore.

  I think that the women having the right to vote impacted on women’s fashion as it gave them a lot more freedom and after the First World War women craved the freedom and thrived from it. The roaring twenties show us that women were able to be a lot more carefree in their style of dress and show off their body a lot more than in previous years. Along with less restriction in their clothing, they wore much looser dresses without the need for corsets, and hair and makeup was much more prominent and their choice. In addition, the right to vote for women also impacted the fashion industry as women no longer had to stay at home, instead they could go out and work. This meant that more sewing machines were used by women instead of hand sewing at home, leading it to be easier for women to produce different garments and earn their own money, purchasing their own clothing and making their own style choices.

Another factor and social change that I really think has shaped and impacted fashion into what it is today would be youth culture. This first emerged in the late 1940s and gaining ground in the 1950s. Before World War II children stayed as children until they turned 18, at which point they become young adults. This meant that they were treated as children with everything they did in their lives, even in the way that they dressed. Before the age of 18 children were generally dressed by their parents or carers.  

It was in the 1950s that the “teenager” began adopting fashions of his/her own design, mirroring her peers instead of her elders. American movies, fashions, and consumer products were exported across the world. While many nations resented America’s influence, they had little power to stop it. The first youth cultures started to emerge from conformist 1950s Britain and America. For the first time, young people stopped imitating their elders, inventing new styles of music, dress and expression by themselves. Any diversion from conformist 1950s fashion was frowned upon. Unsurprisingly, many youngsters were seen as ruffians or hell-raisers for violating the unwritten code. Rock and roll music gained popularity despite its sexual undertones, although this could be the reason people loved it. Performers such as, Little Richard, Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly captured the imagination of young people. They had a new sound much different from what came before, while still maintaining influences from country, blues, jazz and traditional American music. As well as this, at this time, rock and roll was seen as dangerous and rebellious. Famously, Elvis only appeared on the Ed Sullivan from the waist up, because his “hip gyrations” were considered too lewd. Films like The Wild One and Rebel Without A Cause captured the public imagination. Partly due to these movies, partly due to bad press, a leather jacket and a D.A. haircut became associated with rebellion and violence. In Britain, “Teddy Boys,” young men and women, who dressed up in neo-Edwardian fashions, were seen as dangerous. Teddy Boys, and Rockers, liked looking good as well as different; the “rebels” did not yet have causes, in the way punks or hippies would. Individual convictions and tendencies still varied from person to person.

In my opinion, I think that the youth culture of the 1950s impacted fashion and developed it into how we know it today as teenagers and teenage fashion is still known today and is still constantly developing. Without the development and the invention of the ‘teenager’ young people today would not have the same freedom of how they dress? Therefore, certain styles and trends that we know today and that are popular with teenagers may not have been created. For example, the ripped jean may not have been a style amongst the young generation in this day and age as there would not have been a target market for it.

  In conclusion, I think that these two factors of social events and change are in my opinion, part of the reason that fashion is the way it is today. Without the Suffragette movement, women would not have the rights that they have today and would not be free to wear whatever they want; at work and at home, throughout their daily lives. Finally, I think that the development of youth culture and the ‘teenager’ have also shaped fashion as without it certain styles would not have been created such as, the ‘teddy boy’ along with popular clothing items that are worn today. Youth culture also quickly developed during the 1960s and didn’t only shape and popularise fashion but music also. Therefore, it was an extremely influential point in time as without it we may not have teenager culture today and certain styles of dress, that have become very popular and have trickled on to some catwalks.  

Bibliography

The History Learning Site . (2015). Suffragette Movement . Available: https://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/the-role-of-british-women-in-the-twentieth-century/suffragettes/. Last accessed 24/03/18.

Hanging Out Blog. (2011). 50s and 60s Youth Culture in Film . Available: http://www.hangingout.org.uk/_blog/Hanging_Out_Blog/post/Hanging_Out_Project_/. Last accessed 24/03/18.

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Fashion’s Future; And Ours

            Clothing was first used as a means of survival made from animal skins and varying materials compressed into felt protecting us from the elements. As more basic needs were met, our cultures started to progress and clothing manifested into “fashion,” a venue for symbology and self expression. Through the ages, the story of fashion’s evolution, and ours has been a tale of beauty, invention, and murderous destruction. From the beauty of first dress, the way the Greeks let the drapery of their fabrics cascade from the body, the invention of the sewing machine, and YSL’s impact on the post war cultural revolution. To the destruction of manufacturers practicing unethical human rights violations and environmental travesties. 

How did we get to where we are today? What’s fashion’s future; and ours?

 The First Dress

            Excavated in 1912, Archeologists discovered this Tarkhan dress just south of Cairo. Not thought of as much due to so many artifacts found at the time, it sat in storage at University College of London. It was after a second look in the 1970′s, researchers realized it was the oldest known single stitch woven garment. Amazing such a flimsy linen could stand the test of time in dirt.  

"The Tarkhan Dress, however, remains the earliest extant example of complex woven clothing, that is, a cut, fitted and tailored garment as opposed to one that was draped or wrapped,"concludes Gizmodo.  

  Amazing a linen could last so long, the Egyptians didn’t have DryFit yet

Photo Credit: Antiquity 

The Greeks 

            The golden age of Greece was no stranger to beauty. Prior to the operation of the silk road, the Greeks were limited to linen and felt as mediterranean women made clothing for themselves and their families, while selling some of their work at local markets when their husbands were away conquering entire civilizations. Once Alexander was importing fine silks and high quality cottons from India, Grecian clothing began to be held to a greater adornment and higher precedent. Their admiration for fabrics is shared in this age old allegory; 

“No greater tribute to virtue could be paid, so thought the Greeks, than to represent the wife of Odysseus at her door spinning; while later, Alexander honored the captive Persian Queen with a fabric from his sister's hands, a fabric she had spun and woven. The Greeks claim that Athena invented the art of spinning, and at times she is so represented, with distaff and spindle in hand.” Says The Met.

Painted across a Epinetron vase we see Grecian women wearing Peplos’s pictured in a workshop spinning flax to make linen 

Photo Credit: The Met 

The Invention of The Sewing Machine

            During the beginning of French Couture headed by Charles Frerich Worth, the tailors didn’t exactly take a liking to Barthélemy Thimonnier, the inventor of the technology used in todays sewing machines. Thimonnier was beaten and robbed many times, and even almost killed by the tailors who thought his new invention would threaten their jobs. He infamously snuck his plans to Britain, later patenting it in 1850 with the US Patent Office. When he got his patent, more of a personal landmark against the French than economic achievement, he said; 

"The tailor or man of work who 'opposes' my machine is like the child that revolts against his nurse. It makes no sense to me why my inventions should be attacked." Shares Sewalot 

 Thimonnier’s victory over the murderous French Couture Industry 

Photo Credit: Sewalot

The Birth of RTW

            The cultural revolution of the 60’s was fueled by new mass production technologies making it possible for “off the rack” garments to be produced and merchandised globally at high frequencies. As fashion began to shift from being an old world delicacy, to a youthful scoffing of the nouveau riche biting their thumb at the aristocracy, no designer embodied the attitude of this social movement more than Yves Mathieu Saint Laurent. 

Alica Drake articulates the shifting power dynamics of this era in her best seller;  “A Beautiful fall,” where she shares;

“Glorious Excess in 1970s Paris considers a deliciously dramatic case in point. For the 70’s in Paris was not just a time when hedonism reigned supreme, youth flouted its stodgy elders expectations and fashion designers, the pied pipers of the new guard, emerged as creators of fame, sex appeal and glamour that was accessible to all.”  

One of Yves’s best friends Jacques-de-Bascher, reportedly took no greater satisfaction than telling elderly women on the streets of Paris wearing Chanel that their “ass looked big in that dress”

Photo Credit: Amazon 

Today

            Fashion trends are democratically becoming more accessible through the rise in fast fashion making hip and trendy styles available to the masses, while barriers between gender roles are continuing to be broken and reshaped. Shopping is becoming more and more seamless, with our parents having toilet paper automatically  on the first of the month. We never really “take a break from shopping.” However, the modern consumer’s lust for materialism is at an all time high, edging companies to maintain unethical business practices both in labor and use of resources. Child and slave labor is rampant, while pollution and exploitation of resources continue to be hallmark issues within the fashion industry. The fashion industries role in human rights violations and desecrating the environment is of mounting epic proportions and isn’t exactly looking up in the near future. Dana Thomas touches on the issue of child labor in the counterfeit good industry in her Bazaar article “The Fight Against Fakes.” She goes on to state;

“No one utters a word, not a sound, as I recall the raid I went on with Chinese police in a tenement in Guangzhou and what we discovered when we walked in: two dozen sad, tired, dirty children, ages 8 to 14, making fake Dunhill, Versace, and Hugo Boss handbags on old, rusty sewing machines. It was like something out of Dickens, Oliver Twist in the 21st century.”

In Thomas’s book “How Luxury Lost It’s Luster” she dives into the topic deeper, making anyone with a conscience take a deep breath; 

“I remember walking into an assembly plant in Thailand a couple of years ago and seeing six or seven little children, all under 10 years old, sitting on the floor assembling counterfeit leather handbags, an investigator told me... The owners had broken the children's legs and tied the lower leg to the thigh so the bones wouldn't mend. They did it because the children said they wanted to go outside and play."             Gistex Group,  a manufacturing conglomerate providing services to brands like Gap, Adidas, and even Brooks Brothers, who mind you has been endorsed by 39 out of 44 US Presidents. All have made extensive runs with Gistex at their facilities scattered throughout Indonesia, mostly inhibiting the geographic of the Upper Citarum area. Which according to one of Green Peaces more recent studies; “Toxic Threads, Polluting Paradise;" Gistex’s presence “represents 68% of all the industrial factories in the region, with a total of 446 textile manufacturing facilities in the Upper Citarum area.” Green Peace goes on; 

“There are over 5,590 rivers in Indonesia. 36, however, of the most major rivers on Java are badly polluted with a combination of untreated domestic wastes and largely from uncontrolled industrial effluents, according to a status report by the Indonesian government in 2003.”

The high cost of cheap clothing continues to be growing issue for both the industry, and the consumers at large as we socially parade ourselves as progressives wearing clothing made by 12 year olds.   

Art installation depicting the cover of “How Luxury Lost Its Luster”

Photo Credit:  AnnelySepaige

Tomorrow 

 <Conclude w why the fashion industry needs to change for the sake of humanity’s future>

[ejgiftcards]

How To Celebrate These Esoteric Holidays in Style!

Today is June 13th, 2017. Alternatively, today is also Sewing Machine Day. Well, actually, it’s more like half of Sewing Machine Day, as we’ll also celebrate these blessed inventions again in September before autumn rolls around. How are you planning on celebrating?  Throwing a wild pair of fun socks together?  Maybe stitching together a nice blanket for when the weather turns?  What’s that?  You’ve never actually heard of Sewing Machine Day?

Don’t feel too bad about that—it’s certainly one of the more esoteric celebratory days we honor every year in this country. And now that you’ve read this, you at least can crush your trivia night when this question comes up. Oh also, if you are actually into trivia, remember to honor your favorite pastime on January 4th. It is, after all, National Trivia Day.

But how did we get here? Why do we honor “Monkey Around Day” in June (coming up tomorrow, actually), but “King Tut Day” in November?  To answer that question, we need to dive into a bit of Congressional history.

Make sure to take notes, though—you’ll need to remember all this for your annual National Trivia Day party!

It’s National Garlic Day—But Why?

Right after we pay our taxes, we honor our health by celebrating National Garlic Day. Seriously, check it out. As this annual celebration rolled around in 2017, NPR host David Greene asked a fairly reasonable question—why garlic, why now, and why any of this?

According to his co-host Kenny Malone, this all got started a few decades ago. Back in the 1980s, Congress was a bit of a “holiday factory” when it came to commemorating random days of the year with even more random causes and notes. The heyday of production for the holiday factory came during the 1985-86 congressional session. At this point, Congress was so enamored with naming holidays that 1 in every 3 laws passed focused on creating a day or week of one kind or another. National Air Traffic Control Day, National Bowling Week, or even Real Jewelry Month—if there was a subject and a small constituent that cared about it, odds are Congress gave it a day at some point.

But at a certain point, the serious people in the room got together and decided that it was a bit beneath the United States Congress to focus a third of their legislative priorities on creating commemorative days for the populace to celebrate. Chase’s Calendar of Events filled the vacuum created by Congressional departure.

Today, editor-in-chief Holly McGuire receives crowdsourced suggestions for commemorative days. She takes the best new concepts and incorporates them into the Chase Calendar of Events. Their annual book boasts “12,500 holidays, historical milestones, famous birthdays, festivals, sporting events and much more.”  For the 2017 edition, Chase’s has already created:

Be Kind to Food Servers Month

Clean Up Your Computer Month

Credit Education Month

Bathroom Reading Month

Update Your Resume Month

So with all of that commemorative history in mind, which upcoming holidays should you be focusing on (that you have no idea currently exist)?

Men Make Dinner Day: First Thursday in November

The good news?  Men have been getting better at handling their fair share of the cooking responsibilities. The bad news?  Women still cook over 50% more than men do—7.6 hours per week for women, compared to 5 hours of week per men.

Men Make Dinner Day is here to change that. Keep in mind, if you are one of those progressive men who takes pride in his work in the kitchen, this holiday is not for you. But if you’re one of the men still lost in the wilderness of cutting boards and julienned carrots, this is your time to shine.

Remember, though—there are rules. According to the official website of Men Make Dinner Day:

National Men Make Dinner Day is always celebrated on the first Thursday of each November.

Man agrees to participate in National Men Make Dinner day. Bonus points if he does so without mentioning a future “boy’s night out” as part of the deal.

Man, without outside help, chooses a recipe from any source. He can choose a recipe from cookbooks or other sources within the home, but he gets extra credit if he finds a unique and new recipe to play with.

The primary course must incorporate a minimum of 4 ingredients and require more heavy-duty cooking utensils than a simple fork.

Man must shop for all required ingredients.

Man organizes all the required ingredients on the kitchen counter in the order that they will be required. Again—no outside help is permitted at this stage.

Man is allowed to listen to the radio, music, or his favorite podcasts while cooking, but he is not allowed within 30 feet of the television remote throughout the entire process.

After understanding the recipe and acquiring the ingredients, man begins the cooking process. Extra credit for donning a witty apron at this stage.

Man must adhere to “clean as you go” rule—after he is finished using a utensil in the cooking process, it gets cleaned and returned to its rightful home in the kitchen.

Man sets table, lights candles, and pours beverages. No condiment containers are allowed on the table—all must be apportioned into appropriate dishes beforehand.

Significant other and potential family members dig in to enjoy his wares. While pictures are allowed at this stage, man is allotted a firm cap on 3 instances of gloating about his prepared meal.

Following the meal, man takes care of clearing the table, washing the dishes, and brewing any coffee or desserts his guests prefer. After—and only after—all these stages are completed, he is returned TV remote privileges.

National Pepperoni Pizza Day: September 20

When Gennaro Lombardi applied for his first license to make and sell an arcane Italian dish called “pizza” in 1905, he didn’t envision creating a national culinary phenomenon. But after the immediate success of “Joe’s Tomato Pies” became apparent in 1912, several other pizzerias were founded in communities of Italian immigrants—Anthony Pero in Coney Island, Frank Pepe in New Haven, and John Sasso in Greenwich Village highlight the early movers in this space.

Over a century later, pizza is devoured by Americans of all walks of life. In particular, pepperoni pizza remains king as it is preferred by 36% of Americans. Over 3 billion pizzas are sold each year in the United States, with Super Bowl Sunday representing more demand than any other day of the year. Yet the Super Bowl comes but once a year, and we could all use a reason to incorporate more pizza into our lives. When the fall rolls around in September, remember your excuse and indulge in some pepperoni!

Ear Muff Day: March 13

Let’s be real—March is a bit of a drag. Particularly if you live on the East Coast, this is the time that it always seems like spring should arrive at, yet consistently fails to do so. Darn groundhog.

For many of us, this is a time when we look in the closets and dream about the day we can switch over those sweaters and long johns for our shorts and polo shirts. Yet Chester Greenwood knew better. Back in 1877, Chester had grown tired of the earaches and incessant pain resulting from the brutal northeast winters. As such, he put patented the “Champion Ear Protector” on March 13 to guard against such disturbances. His invention carried the moniker of “ear muffler,” which was eventually whittled down to the “ear muff” we know and love today. If you’re looking to keep your sensitive ears warm without messing up that hair, consider honoring Chester next March 13!

National Underwear Day: August 5

The 13th Century wasn’t the kindest of times for human history. The Crusades were revving up, the Mongol Empire was clashing with Russian principalities, and the Song dynasty came to a bitter end. Fortunately for us, however, our ancestors did find time in this period to invent underwear. Their iteration of leather loincloths may not be as appealing as a nice pair of boxer briefs sounds today, but we still owe them a debt of gratitude for this novel invention.

Freshpair, a burgeoning Internet company, recognized this debt when they founded National Underwear Day on August 5th, 2003. Each year the company stages a massive “underwear show” in New York City to celebrate the centuries that have led us to our current state of underwear-ness. So the next time August 5th rolls around, open that top drawer of the dresser up and acknowledge that it may be time to honor our 13th Century ancestors with a new pair or two.

Festival of Sleep Day: January 3

Sleep is important. Really important, actually. According to the National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute, sleep plays a considerably vital role in our health and well-being. The benefits of a good night of sleep include:

Healthy brain functioning

Emotional well-being

Physical health

Daytime performance and safety

January 3rd is an ideal day to recognize the importance of sleep. After all, it’s immediately following the holidays, so our annual feasts of turkey and red wine are still flowing through our collective bloodstream. Take some time after your holiday binge to get a full 8 hours, a cat nap, or a quick Costanza-esque snooze under your desk at work. Your body and mind will thank you for it.

How to Celebrate?

This much is clear: we have an inordinate amount of celebrations to carry out each year on the calendar. While we may not have the ability (or desire, in some cases) to acknowledge and honor each and every one of these esoteric holidays, they represent novel opportunities to send and receive notes and gift cards to friends and loved ones. After all, who wouldn’t love to get a Whole Foods gift card for Bittersweet Chocolate Day, or maybe a Lids gift card for National Hat Day?

The evidence shows that Americans overwhelmingly prefer gift cards as their chosen present, and these crazy holidays represent a really fun way to tell your recipient that you’re thinking about them in a lighthearted manner. Unfortunately, however, a massive amount of our annual gift cards goes to waste—nearly a billion dollars of gift card balances go unused every single year!

At EJ Gift Cards, we think that’s absurd. Why should you lose the value on that Trader Joe’s gift card just because you didn’t see anything you wanted for National Cheese Day there?  Okay, poor example—there’s always good cheese at Trader Joe’s to celebrate that day.

But the point remains; wasted gift card balances are a slap in the face to our gift givers and receivers. We’re here to make sure none of that humor and generosity gets wasted. Our model works in three simple steps:

Let us know what merchant your card is for.

Tell us how much value is left on the card.

Instantaneously see our offer to buy that card from you and decide what you’d like to do.

It’s an easy model with no pressure from start to finish. You can choose to sell that gift card to us, or perhaps hold onto it for later use. Either way, we just want to make sure those gift cards don’t go to waste and that your National Kazoo Day celebration wasn’t all for naught. The funds will be sent your way via paypal and you can decide how best to spend them. Heck, maybe even just reinvest them in a Barnes & Noble gift card for National Children’s Book Day (April 2nd will be here before you know it)!

So give us a try and see if you can sell your gift card and get some quick cash. After all, you may need to replenish the wallet for some roses for Mother-In-Law Day—don’t forget, that’s the fourth Sunday in October!

[biofunmy]

Who Made Your Clothes? – The New York Times

Rumsinah, 44

Role: Zipper operator at PT. Fajarindo Faliman Zipper, which focuses largely on in-house brands

Where: Tangerang, Indonesia

“Most of my co-workers and I are all old-timers,” said Ms. Rumsinah, who has been working at the same factory for 26 years. “It’s a good factory, so no one really quits. There’s seldom any job openings — only if someone retires.”

She is paid about 3.4 million rupiah, or $241, per month, which she said is tight as a single parent. Her son recently finished high school. “He can’t work at my factory because there’s no openings,” she said. “He wants to be a teacher, but we don’t have enough money to send him to go to university.”

Though her job is tiring, “all jobs are tiring,” she said. “At least weekends are off, and the hours are not too bad.”

Waheed, 38

Role: Sewing bedsheets and curtains at a textile mill

Where: Pakistan

Waheed, who is being identified only by his first name, has been in the textile industry for 20 years and works seven days a week to support his wife and two young sons. They share a house with his parents, his sisters and his brothers.

“Most factories place a lot of restrictions on garment workers. Once they come in for their shift around 8 in the morning, there’s no knowing when supervisors will let them out. It may be 8 p.m. or 10 p.m. by the time they are allowed to leave for the day.

Workers at my factory don’t have it as bad. That’s why I’ve been here for the past 10 years. It’s a nice place to work. But some of the resources that workers really need aren’t provided, such as first-aid kits or pension cards.

It’s pretty common to get your fingers injured — sometimes needles break and get stuck in your bone if your hand gets in the way of the machine. Then you have to go to the hospital and get X-rays yourself.

It’s difficult to manage on the salary I earn. My expenses amount to about 2,000 rupees a day, including the cost of my children’s clothes, their education, my family’s groceries and other bills. But I barely make 1,000 rupees a day.”

Seak Hong, 36

Role: Sews outdoor apparel and bags at Horizon Outdoor

Where: Khum Longvek, Kampong Chhnang, Cambodia

Six days a week, Ms. Hong wakes up at 4:35 a.m. to catch the truck to work from her village. Her workday begins at 7 and usually lasts nine hours, with a lunch break. During the peak season, which lasts two to three months, she works until 8:30 p.m.

Ms. Hong has been in the garment business for 22 years. She earns the equivalent of about $230 a month and supports her father, her sister, her brother (who is on disability) and her 12-year-old son.

She hopes he will not end up in a factory, too, but the price of a quality education — about $20 per month — is beyond her means. While she is at work, her sister manages the household, taking care of their oxen and rice farming their land for extra food.

“I feel tired, but I have no choice,” Ms. Hong said. “I have to work.”

Yurani Tascon, 34

Role: Tracks daily production numbers at Supertex, which works with major active wear brands

Where: Yumbo, Colombia

“They spoil us a lot here,” Ms. Tascon said. “It’s a job with good stability.” Her workplace blasts music — usually salsa or something traditional — from speakers throughout the day while employees make coats, bathing suits and sportswear.

At 11 a.m., employees get “pausas activas”: active breaks with music.

Sarjimin, 39

Role: Makes shoes for a comfort footwear brand at PT. Dwi Naga Sakti Abadi

Where: Tangerang, Indonesia

Mr. Sarjimin has worked at the same factory for about 12 years. The job is relatively stable, and his workplace is spacious, bright and safe.

He earns the equivalent of $250 a month, and his wife also works at a factory. The family is able to send their children, a 13-year-old and a 9-year-old, to good schools. They recently purchased a computer for their older son, who is passionate about technology.

Mr. Sarjimin farms catfish to supplement his family’s grocery money. He started six months ago, filling a big empty drum with starter fish as an experiment. Now he has two drums with 300 fish each, and he sells them to friends, family and neighbors.

One day, he would like to raise catfish full time. “There’s a motivational speaker I heard once, ‘You have to dare to dream, how to get there is a question for a different time,’” he said. “I like remembering those words.”

Saida, 38

Role: Sewing machine operator at Pinehurst Manufacturing, which works with major active wear brands

Where: San Pedro Sula, Honduras

The factory where Saida has worked for the last 12 years is one of the few in the area. She earns about 8,200 lempira each month, roughly $331. “It doesn’t cover everything,” she said. “Vivimos sobregirados.” (“We live overdrawn.”)

Saida lives with her mother and her 19-year-old daughter, who goes to school. “I am the one who provides everything at home. The house, the water, the electricity,” she said. “You have to stop buying certain things to be able to cover the necessities.”

Her unit currently has one primary client, a major sportswear brand. This is a source of anxiety for her and her co-workers because they fear mass layoffs if the client leaves the company. “It’s really difficult having one client,” she said.

Bui Chi Thang, 35

Role: Stitching denim together for sustainability-focused brands at Saitex International

Where: Bien Hoa, Vietnam

Mr. Bui has been at his factory for seven years. “It matches my skill,” he said, “and the salary is enough for my family.” He earns approximately 90 million dong annually, roughly $3,880, which he uses to support his mother, wife and son.

During the average nine-hour workday, “I can finish 1,000 to 1,200 pieces a day, depending on the difficulty,” he said.

Santiago, 48

Role: Sews clasps and zippers onto dresses, blouses and pants at a factory

Where: Los Angeles

“I’m from Guatemala. I’ve been doing garment work for 16 years. I started because it was the only thing I knew how to do after leaving my home country,” Santiago said. “I came here because there were not as many opportunities back home, and with six children, there are a lot of expenses.”

In the last five years, he has worked in five to eight factories. They are often windowless and dirty, with little ventilation, he said.

When he first moved to Los Angeles, Santiago was working 11-hour shifts, seven days a week. Now he works about 50 hours a week, taking home up to $350. The majority of his co-workers — around 30 other people — are Spanish speakers from Guatemala, El Salvador and Mexico.

“I’m just making ends meet,” he said. “I’m always trying to figure out how to save money, how to buy food, how to not eat out too much.” Still, he said it is better than what he was earning in Guatemala.

Maria Valdinete da Silva, 46

Role: Self-employed seamstress

Where: Caruaru, Brazil

The last factory Ms. da Silva worked at produced men’s street wear. She spent eight years there, stitching side seams together in an assembly line with an hourly quota.

“Some companies, like the one I worked for, no longer have employees inside the factory and the seamstresses work from home,” she said. “They establish small groups, tiny factories, and they are paid per item, so they basically have the same production without any costs.”

In order to make minimum wage, outsourced employees “have to work from day to night,” she said.

Ms. da Silva now makes women’s clothing independently, producing fewer pieces and selling them locally. She makes “maybe half” of minimum wage, but she said it’s worth it to work at her own pace. “I love what I do,” she said. “I no longer see myself in that situation of sitting in front of a machine doing the same thing every day.”

She is planning on taking fashion design courses soon. “Seamstresses are the key element in the fashion chain, we are the ones who put the clothes together,” she said. “You basically have to kill yourself in front of a sewing machine in order to provide for your family.”

Antonio Ripani, 72

Role: Leather quality control at Tod’s Group

Where: Casette d’Ete, Italy

Mr. Ripani, who began working with leather at 14, has been employed by Tod’s for more than 40 years, where he assesses “practically all the hides that arrive” for quality.

“Alone it’s hard to do everything, so I have a group of ragazzi [guys] under me and I have taught them everything I’ve been able to understand after all these years,” he said.

Mr. Ripani doesn’t earn much, he said, but he sets his own schedule, often working eight to 12 hours a day. He has assistants and has received awards for his highly specialized work.

“It’s not so much the salary, it’s that I am here because we’re all one family,” he said. “When I started, I had long hair. Now, I am bald.”

Rukhsana, 48

Role: Security at Sitara Textile Industries

Where: Faisalabad, Pakistan

Rukhsana began working in the garment industry shortly after her husband died seven years ago. She works seven days a week.

“The hardest thing about working in a textile mill is that management kind of cuts you off from the world for the duration of your shift. If anyone calls you from home — with good news or bad news — you can’t take the call and management doesn’t tell you until the day is over.

Two years ago, my nephew died in an accident when I was working. My brother tried calling me, but management didn’t tell me about it until my family had already held his funeral. I was so upset, I quit my job.

Now that I’m in security, I know when someone comes to the mill and tries to contact a worker. But I’m still not allowed to tell the worker their relative has been trying to reach them.

It’s not just difficult, it’s impossible to survive on the salary the textile mills pay. Are we supposed to choose between buying food and roti or paying for clothes and medicine? And there’s always rent to pay in addition to that.”

(Employees store their phones in a locker before beginning their shift, a company spokesman said in a phone interview, and they aren’t allowed to leave the organization “without any written acknowledgment from the manager.”

He said that family can reach employees on their cellphones or by calling the factory directly, and that he was not aware of any incidents in which family was prevented or delayed from contacting an employee during an emergency. )

Vu Hoang Quan, 21

Role: Sews dress shirts for mass retailers at TAL Apparel

Where: Binh Xuyen, Vinh Phuc, Vietnam

Mr. Vu has spent the last four years working on a production line with about 30 other employees, each overseeing parts of the sewing process. On average, he earns about 10 to 12 million dong (about $432 to $518) monthly. He sends most of it back to his family.

“My favorite time is at 3 p.m., when we have an exercise session,” he said. “We stay at our work spot. We pause our work process, line up and follow the exercise instructions of team leaders.”

He recently participated in a talent show hosted by the company, where he performed modern dance. “I don’t have plans to leave this job anytime soon,” he said. “I’m quite satisfied with it.”

Catherine Gamet, 48

Role: Leather goods artisan at Louis Vuitton

Where: Saint-Pourçain-sur-Sioule, France

Ms. Gamet began working with leather when she was 16 years old and has been employed by Vuitton for 23 years. “To be able to build bags and all, and to be able to sew behind the machine, to do hand-sewn products, it is my passion,” she said. “That’s how I got into it.”

About 800 employees work in Saint-Pourçain, spread out across four sites. Ms. Gamet said the workshops are well organized, bright and modern. “The time flies by,” she said.

S, 33

Role: Tailor making pants and socks for fast fashion and active wear brands at Shahi Exports

Where: India

S.’s shift begins at 9 a.m. She feels a lot of pressure from supervisors to reach quotas of about 90 to 120 pieces per hour and said many workers are afraid to take breaks or use the restroom because it will waste time.

Employees who can’t keep up are often pulled aside at the end of each hour, she said, and supervisors will yell at them and bang on tables. Many workers spend most of their 30-minute lunch breaks scrambling to finish more pieces to get back on track.

“We don’t even have the freedom to drink water,” S. said, adding that management doesn’t allow employees to bring in water bottles.

Instead, water is handed out by the factory. In the spring of 2018, the supplied water was making workers sick, and when employees gave management a letter with a variety of basic requests, including clean water, they were beaten in response. Their clothes were torn, and many of their valuables, including phones and jewelry, were taken.

The employees took their complaint to the labor department. The issues were resolved three months after the incident, after the factory faced public pressure from a report by an American watchdog group, social media and brands that worked with the factory.

Some conditions have improved: Employees get mineral water now. But the pay is still bad, S. said, and the main work space doesn’t have windows, air-conditioning or heaters.

“We want to ask for more salary, but people are scared after what happened last year to ask again,” she said.

(In an email, a spokesman from Shahi Exports acknowledged the 2018 incident and forwarded a statement outlining the preventive measures the company has since enacted.

In a separate email, a spokesman said that berating employees in any way “constitutes misconduct,” and instances brought to management’s attention would “initiate action” against the perpetrator.

“While we do strive to drive efficiencies, there is no scope to berate any employee on account of non-performance or deficient performance,” he said. The spokesman added that there “is adequate ventilation” within the work space and that the entire factory is “in compliance with the law.”)

S. is a single parent and picks up extra work in the evenings, along with taking out loans, to support herself and her daughter. “There are thousands of people” in her city in the same situation, she said. “My story is just one of them.”

Phool Bano, 38

Role: Tailor at Friends Factory

Where: Noida, India

Ms. Bano has been a tailor for about 22 years and works at a progressive factory that makes small batches of garments for high-end independent brands. The building has little luxuries like air purifiers.

“It feels nice working here,” Ms. Bano said. “It’s clean. There are some plants and trees also, you know, the kind that are meant for decoration.”

Helena Lúcia Santos da Conceição da Silva, 54

Role: Seamstress at Fantasia D!kas Roupas

Where: Nova Friburgo, Brazil

“I’ve always thought of myself as a seamstress. I even made my daughter’s sweet-16 dress. It looks like overlapping petals. It’s my greatest pride.

I start work at 7 a.m. We make everything: pants, shorts, tops. I work eight hours a day Mondays to Fridays with a one-hour lunch break. It’s a small company: me and five other seamstresses. We don’t have a quota. Here they value quality over quantity. I don’t even know how many pieces I work on in a given day. We don’t keep track.

Ms. da Silva does not make enough money from her day job, so she picks up extra work from private clients to complete on evenings and weekends, sometimes working until 10 p.m.

I prefer working for this manufacturer because I’m on the payroll, I’m entitled to vacations. It’s more secure. But my dream is to have my own atelier at home.”

Knvul Sheikh contributed reporting.

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