I love Boston. Certainly not for its politics or masses of people who are always in a hurry to get somewhere they’re not. No, I think it’s the character and quirkiness and of course its history. I have a feeling it has always just been out there, both in geography and behavior, unafraid to go it alone. Unafraid to dress up like Indians and pitch a bunch of priceless tea into the harbor, completely ticking off the most powerful country in the world. I respect that.
Just about anytime in the Northeast is nice, but a chilly December weekend is especially attractive. With low-cost airfare and off-season rates at the Parker House, my youngest daughter and I splurged on a couple of days of Christmas shopping and strolling recently.
There’s nothing quite like twilight and holiday lights along the Commonwealth, especially if you couple that with a steaming hot chocolate from L.A. Burdick. Just us and the dogwalkers in amongst the glittering multimillion-dollar townhomes and the statues of serious people long forgotten. You can do a lot of dreaming along the Commonwealth.
We checked Zillow later just to see how much one of those abodes would cost. None were listed and I’m not surprised.
One thing I didn’t expect of that weekend was any sort of environmental awakening, as that’s not usually the way shopping goes for me. I do recycle when I can and I try not to deplete the ozone with too much hairspray, but none of that coincides with shopping. Or that’s what I used to think.
It all started with Lush. The store is a sort of homemade Bath and Body Works, with a whole lot of creativity and free spirit involved. You can smell it from the street, just like a mall Cinnabon bakery, before you even see it. Except Lush is clean and soapy. It makes me happy.
It’s a place you can stroll through, sampling its pastel wares amid the glistening porcelain sinks and very well-informed clerks. I wish I could remember what the first helpful employee was suggesting, but I was totally distracted by counting the number of piercings in his nose. There were five, including the nose ring. That’s not at all a problem. It was just interesting.
I settled on a jar of lotion and some lip gloss. At the checkout, the clerk with the orange hair described in detail the recycling program that Lush is involved in. If I bring back the clean lotion tub later, I get a dollar. If I bring back five tubs at once, I get five free face masks. That’s because Lush recycles all plastics in house, working to save the environment. And I could be a part of that.
I also learned that all Lush products are cruelty-free, which very much appealed to me. I’d hate to buy something with any sort of cruelty involved, so I’m all in.
“This lip gloss is amazing,” the clerk gushed. “It goes on a bit sticky, but is quickly absorbed. You’ll love it!”
I wondered just how he knew that, but then, I obviously wasn’t in Kansas anymore so I just thanked him and handed over my credit card, mentally tamping down any preconceived ideas of gender appropriateness. It’s a new world and none of my business.
Total acceptance and unfettered creativity and a green earth. All in one stop. I picked up a whole lot more than soap in that store.
“Would you like a bag for that?”
Well of course not. I quickly declined, both because I’ve learned that in Boston, bags aren’t free but more importantly because I very much wanted to be part of the earth movement. And I couldn’t stand to disappoint the checkout guy.
“How about a receipt?”
Again, no. That involves paper. And trees.
With both products safely tucked in my coat pocket with no receipt, I regretted just a bit my earth worthy stance. This must be how shoplifters feel.
Each time we go to Boston, we vow to do something different. This time, we planned to visit the U.S.S. Constitution. Instead, we bought oyster sweaters. It was definitely different.
We found the selections at Long Wharf Supply, a family-owned business that creates sweaters by recycling oyster shells and water bottles. A bit of cotton is also involved, resulting in the absolute best fisherman sweaters ever. You have to like some blend of blue or cream, but if that’s in your color wheelhouse and you don’t mind contributing a bit more cash for the cause with a pricy sweater purchase, then Long Wharf is your place.
Each sweater sold reseeds 30 oysters and naturally filters up to 1,500 gallons of seawater every day. All that in my simple blue waffle weave oyster sweater. Hear me roar.
Probably what I’m most proud of, though, is the bright red and white Tuba Christmas toboggan. It’s the most unexpected purchase of the shopping weekend. Actually, we weren’t even shopping on the Saturday morning of the tuba concert. We were on the way to the JFK Museum but got sidetracked.
Right downtown, on a riser above the train station was the most festive group of musicians I think I’ve ever seen, giving an impromptu concert and accepting donations. Several were decked out in Santa hats and beards and they were all happy and in key. The back couple of rows waved tubas beribboned with garland and aluminum streamers. My favorite was the one that sprouted what appeared to be a Halloween ghost made over into a snowman, whose bony fingers gripped a cardboard Christmas tree positioned over the mouth of the horn. It was art.
And it was cold. One of the Santas met me at the merchandise table where I bought a $15 toboggan, contributing an extra $5 to the arts with a $20 bill. He didn’t have change, but the end result was the same and I felt even better about my expanding purpose, now including the arts.
To cap it off, I learned that the week before we got to Boston, Prince William was there to collect an Earth Shot prize. I’m not sure what he did to deserve that, but I’m probably not too far behind. At least I’m available and in line. And obviously committed if that counts for anything.
In the meantime, I’m thinking of starting a compost pile out behind the barn. And I’m figuring there has to be a way to convert horse manure into a line of apparel I mean, if oyster shells can work…
