when i was about 7 years old, i found a tatty teddy bear laying on the footpath on my way to the shops with my mum & sister // he had seen better days, but i loved him instantly & took him home, washed him, glued a new button eye on & got mum to stitch him back together // i took him everywhere with me, we were inseparable.
bohjo is his name.
as I got older I started to wonder where he was made & about the person who created him // i thought about their hands sewing him together, where they lived, what they looked like, what their name was & whether there were other bohjos laying in the street waiting to be found & cherished.
he’s still with me to this day, faded & worn, serving as a time capsule for my childhood spirit // he is the namesake of this business simply because i have absolutely no idea where he was made // that can be said for most of the things we own today, but especially for our clothes // our disconnection from the consequences of our closet choices as we cash into consumerism is largely at the expense of people & planet // it’s a harsh truth to come to terms with // the fact that simply buying products from the wrong companies contributes to enslaving millions of people & irreversible damage to the same ecosystem we rely on for our survival.
we have an urgent moral obligation to take stock of our surroundings, our possessions, what they mean to us, where they were made, who made them, why, & whether we actually need them at all...
i hold onto bohjo because he’s sentimental to me, a beacon into the past & a timely reminder that our choices impact people all over the world; sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes unconscious.
it's time to be conscious.