The perils of eco-shopping

Being the environmentally friendly and interested person that I like to think of myself as, I have recently been looking through many of the spring/summer 2006 collections for several UK based organic or fairtrade clothing websites. Some of the clothes are beautiful. I would love to be able to invest in some of them, and probably would, except for one small detail.

The colours suck ass.

I am a brunette with hazelish eyes and skin that is definately more yellow toned than pink (think British peaches and cream complexion). It is physically impossible for me to appear attractive in any shade of orange, yellow, beige and most certainly the pastel shade of any hue. I can barely pull off certain shades of pink, but they have to be screaming in your face if they're going to look remotely good on me at all. White is also out, and I sadly look like a washed out fat slug shining in someone's flashlight. And if I see one more pukey shade of sage green, I'll set something on fire. So, due to this, it appears that the only colour available to me this summer through most eco-friendly clothing retailers is not a colour at all. It's black.

Where are the dark greens and blues? Would it kill you to make a burgandy or dark purple (NOT lilac!) top of some kind? I know that the dyes aren't really natural, and that they're less eco-friendly to use and so on, but surely someone has developed something by now?

How do you balance fashion with ethics? How do you make the choice between buying something that a 9 year old in a sweatshop in China made verses something made by someone getting paid a fair wage when, as you look at them, it looks like the difference between wearing something that flatters your figure and helps out your wobbly bits and something that makes you look like a sack?

Eco-friendly clothing has come a huge way in the last several years, and is finally breaking into the mainstream this month with the introduction of a People Tree at TopShop. But until they start to carry things that are going to look good on those of us that have sallow skin and can't wear halter tops, I'm not going to be able to buy most of them. Unless, of course, I only want to wear black.

I didn't think that yoga was supposed to hurt you

Finally started the job, and with the job came The Gym. Yes, it deserves to be all in capitals because, over the last several days, it has earned my respect for delivering me in the form of a quivering mess to my front door at the end of the evening. After sitting in a chair all day listening to the Old Biddy and The Wierd Anal One, cycling my ass off whilst some one yells at me over the music to "Lean into it! Up a quarter turn!" is obviously, exactly what I need.

I attempted spinning today - something that should more appropriately be described as really fit women with asses you could bounce quarters off of barely breaking a sweat while I fell off my bike halfway through hyperventaliting. I lasted all of 15 minutes, which the trainer in charge of the class was apparently impressed with, since I hadn't done it before. After spending about 20 minutes sitting with my head between my legs in the women's locker room as my stomach debated whether or not it wanted to be empty or not, I wobbled myself back into the class room where a wonderful woman was putting on relaxing music and dimming the lights. The next hour could be summed up either as 'The many amusing ways I can fall over in front of people' or 'Fuck me, I didn't realize that men could put their legs behind their heads.' So, all in all, heaps of fun. I'm going to attempt to walk to my kitchen now, but if I'm not back in half an hour we may have to call the paramedics.