The Ducks have taken over. Craft coffee roasters, medicinal herb stores that sell "chai tea," and outdoor gear secondhand stores, all within a two-block radius.
We decided to drive through downtown Eugene after grabbing lunch in a church-turned-food-hall (yes, you read that right), for a taste of the local flavor, specifically its coffee (today's drive-thru drip just wasn't cutting it).
What surprised me was, in addition to the typical Oregonian roastery in an old egg-sorting facility, the presence of new shopping developments right off the freeway (just past the U of O campus). The kind that have popped up in every redeveloping city's downtown.
You know which ones I'm talking about: they've got faux-brick siding in one of three possible distinct, muted earth tones: almost-mauve-but-definitely-still-grey slate grey, chestnut-but-they-put-too-much-red-in brown, and don't-forget-the-sunblock tan. Architecture that wants you to believe it's not a strip mall, yet its external entry and exit-ways all lead to and from the parking lot.
What caught my eye as we entered this particular town's shopping plaza was the nod to what made this shopping center different: a container ship! Bearing the name "WILL LEATHER GOODS" (in subtitle text: "An Adler Family Co. Eugene, Oregon USA" and its establishment date of 1981), the structure caught the eye of both me and Will, and we made it a crucial stop on our visit.
I was greeted with the familiar smell of cowhide as soon as I stepped in the store. Inside, I found all the sizes and shapes of bags, backpacks, belts, and other accessories, in all the shades of brown (and even some saturated, trendy colors for the local suburban moms and the visiting moms during graduation).
I walked around investigating the store's goods, as I usually do in any store where I'm wary of spending money on something I could feasibly convince myself to make. Probably not anytime soon, but if I tell myself I could find a way to make it at home, I'd probably save myself an impulsive dent in my wallet.
In addition to noticing a set of maroon catchall/saucer things (three sizes, one each for fitting your small-medium-and-large accessories Goldilocks style)--no price, I had to ask and later found out it was $95 for the set--I noted the almost heavy-handed American heritage decor. Leather-embossed placards describing the company's cowhide sourcing. Fold-out vintage postcards from Tennessee, D.C., Washington state - the kind I actually collect for myself. So I awaited the moment that I could show to Will the goods I had found and try and persuade him that I needed this set of catchalls - for my mobile sewing setup!
While I waited, I found a set of two orange leather zip pouches, which caught my eye because their color was almost a perfect match to that of a leather crossbody purse I once bought for myself in Florence, Italy when I was 12 (my first trip to Europe).
A sometimes maker of leather goods myself, I often inspect how others make their wares - what zippers did they decide to use? Is the lining going to be delicate or rough on the inside? Solid or printed? And as I reached inside the buttery-soft leather pouch, I found something I definitely didn't expect. Something I usually only find when digging in thrift stores vigorously inspecting the merchandise. Something that usually tells me I probably don't want to buy it.
You might have guessed it: I found, tucked away into the corner of this coin purse, in tiny font, the words "Made in China." I was in disbelief. Maybe only the lining was made in China! Not the leather construction, nor the embossing itself. No. Can't be. I checked the matching coin purse, too. Sure enough, in the larger purse, and, this time, perhaps intentionally obscured by an irregular fold in the fabric lining, was the identical tag.
How many other things in this store had been made in China? Who in China sat at a table for hours cutting the canvas and leather, sewing the lining and zipper and leather together, embossing the "Oregon USA" logo on top of it? How much were they getting paid? And, possibly the most embarrassing question of all, if I thought $95 was too much money for the three-piece leather set made in China, would I ever be willing to pay an American craftsperson fairly for their materials and time to create the same product?
I left the store in a rush, confused and conflicted (Will and I had just spent the hour's drive up to Eugene discussing the ethics of sweatshop-produced American products). I didn't buy anything, but I did walk away with some free leather scraps (which I offered to pay for). I'll go make my own leather coin purse in Portland, Ore. now, thank you very much.