58 pages • 1 hour read
Yvon ChouinardA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
For both Patagonia and Chouinard, simplicity is an aesthetic, ethical, and existential code: Designing and developing a product with the ultimate goal of simplicity results in something perfectly suited to its function. Living simply means consuming only what one needs, thus sparing the environment unnecessary harm. It also means rejecting the wealth of consumer choices and its attendant dissatisfaction for the satisfaction of caring for a small number of possessions. Living according to this principle of simplicity also begets happiness; as Chouinard says, simplicity doesn’t create a “an impoverished life but one richer in all the ways that really matter” (606).
Simplicity becomes the central tenant of Chouinard’s life in his teens when he ditches middle-class comforts to become a climbing bum. He develops this philosophy of life from the Zen Buddhist teaching that happiness is found in simplicity. Chouinard both follows this teaching himself and proselytizes it through Patagonia’s public outreach channels. It appears as a central element of the lifestyle Patagonia markets in the rejection of unnecessary consumption and embrace of the spartan pleasures of the outdoors. Simplicity also becomes the cornerstone of Patagonia’s design philosophy and Chouinard’s philosophy of activity. Just as it is better to climb a route with as little gear as possible, it is best for a garment to function with as few components as possible. A prototype doesn’t start out in its simplest possible form; instead, the designer eliminates its superfluous elements through the process of development and redevelopment until the product’s form is identical to its function. This is as much a philosophy of design as it is of beauty. The finished product is beautiful because it performs its designated task perfectly—there aren’t any more refinements to make.
Although simplification in various forms has gained popularity in the 21st century—think Marie Kondo’s minimalism or the proliferation of meditation apps—it was a fairly radical idea at the height of the 1980s’ maximalist consumerism. Patagonia’s commitment to simplicity at that time helps distinguish it from its competitors. On the consumer-facing side, the spare presentations in its retail stores and catalog and its pared-down product line all help to cut through the busy crush of goods and grab customers. Chouinard identifies a different type of customer to market to: “We assume that [our customers] don’t shop as entertainment, that they’re not out to ‘buy a life,’ that they want to deepen and simplify, not junk up, their lives, and that they are fed up with or indifferent to being targets for aggressive advertising” (404-05). Tapping into this market shows Chouinard that not only is simple better in an aesthetic, ethical, and existential sense, but it is also more profitable.
The thing that keeps Chouinard from selling Patagonia despite his aversion to business and desire to spend his life outdoors is the goal to influence other companies to adopt more environmentally responsible practices. Chouinard identifies businesses’ single-minded focus on short-term profit as the primary cause of environmental degradation. This growth is ultimately unsustainable because business relies on finite natural resources, and yet governments, businesses, and consumers continue to directly or indirectly support this model. In Patagonia, Chouinard proposes a new model of business that is summed up in this ad from 2004:
Who are businesses really responsible to? Their customers? Shareholders? Employees? We would argue that it’s none of the above. Fundamentally, businesses are responsible to their resource base. Without a healthy environment there are no shareholders, no employees, no customers, and no business (245).
By establishing that Patagonia can be both a friend of the environment and a successful company, Chouinard aims to model his alternative model of (more) sustainable business. He knows that Patagonia can never be influential in the way he wants it to be if it isn’t profitable:
If we wish to lead corporate America by example, we have to be profitable. No company will respect us, no matter how much money we give away or how much publicity we receive for being one of the ‘100 Best Companies,’ if we are not profitable (246).
Patagonia’s enormous success gives its business model even more credibility. Not only is it possible to be environmentally conscious and still turn a profit, but Patagonia finds it is actually more profitable to make the more environmental decision: “When we make a decision because it’s the right thing to do for the planet, it ends up also being good for the business” (572). For example, in the depths of a recession, Patagonia finds its profits are up 30% despite having cleaned up its supply chain and using more expensive organic cotton. In contrast, the sales of a large surf company (Patagonia also makes surf wear) that eliminated its use of organic cotton in the few products it used it for to cut costs are down 20%. Chouinard’s explanation for this disparity is that the surf company hadn’t adapted its product line to the younger market that put a premium on more environmental manufacturing (573).
As a corporate role model, Patagonia continued its history of functioning both as a company and an educator. Since convincing his group of climber friends to switch to his new removable piton from the permanent ones littering the rocks, Chouinard views his business as an instrument of change. The 1972 catalog with its essay advocating “clean” climbing—climbing using Chouinard Equipment’s new removable chocks rather than its pitons, which though removable still leave holes in the rock—shows that Chouinard understands that change requires reeducation. Alerting someone to an environmental problem and then giving them something to do about it in the form of a more environmental product becomes Patagonia’s signature.
With both Patagonia and this book, Chouinard is selling a lifestyle he helped pioneer and still lives. This authenticity is essential to the brand. While of course Patagonia is not the first to market its products as essential to a particular lifestyle, it goes above and beyond to convert consumers to this lifestyle. Furthermore, unlike the lifestyles marketed by other brands based on pleasure through consumption in one form or another, Patagonia’s lifestyle appeals to a higher sense of values. One of the marketing practices the company explicitly avoids is writing copy that “appeals to vanity, greed, or guilt. Our copy pretty much sticks to facts and philosophy” (487). It’s an invitation to consume in the most moral way possible and a call to become more environmentally responsible. Patagonia applies the tried-and-true sales tactic of alerting consumers to a problem with other products and providing a solution to a new market of people concerned with the environment. However, it adjusts this tactic to fit its brand. By presenting customers with a choice to buy its products after informing them of their environmental impact rather than bombarding them with aggressive advertising, the company puts the consumer in charge, ensuring that they don’t feel manipulated by underhanded tactics.
As Chouinard says, Patagonia’s catalog—its marketing bible—is as much about presenting products as it is about presenting the company and its values: “Telling the Patagonia story and educating the Patagonia customer on layering systems, on environmental issues, and on the business itself are as much the catalog’s mission as is selling the products” (468). In other words, alongside its products Patagonia markets an environmentally conscious, outdoor-oriented lifestyle based in the company’s origins. This commitment to the company’s roots in Chouinard’s passion for nature through its charity, activism, and prioritization of function over form authenticates Patagonia’s reputation to core and casual customer alike. Chouinard’s near-80-year commitment to a life in the outdoors also lends Patagonia background authenticity and validates his and the company’s message that a simple life is a happier life; despite having a net worth estimated at $1.8 billion as of 2022, he still lives a relatively simple life spent almost entirely in the outdoors.
Patagonia’s core customers remain loyal because of the company’s commitment to quality and environmentalism—qualities perhaps reflected in their own lives. On the other hand, the casual customer is drawn to the brand by its standout aesthetic, by authentic, quality garments, and by honest copy in a sea of knockoffs and false advertising. This commitment to producing authentic garments, that is, a garment that has the function that type of garment should, is refreshing in an industry known for producing superfluous goods that privilege form over function. By marketing this return to function, Patagonia distinguishes itself from competitors, securing a competitive advantage. The company’s rejection of transient style allows the consumer to escape the cyclical stress of remaining stylish to the refuge of Patagonia’s timeless, authentic products. Corporate messages such as the 2011 Black Friday “Don’t Buy This Jacket” ad and the essay in the 1991 catalog titled “Reality Check,” which urged customers to buy less because of the environmental harm of clothing manufacture, indicate to customers that while the company still markets its products, it’s not willing to maximize profits at the expense of the environment. Paradoxically, such exhortations to reject consumer culture by buying less and repairing more can have the opposite effect: Sales rose 30% following the “Don’t Buy This Jacket” ad campaign. This example encapsulates Patagonia’s central moral conflict: The desirability of the true authenticity to which it is committed undermines its commitment to environmentalism.