Patagonia Company Quotes

sea.  I was even glad of what I had learned in the afternoon at the office of the company—that at the eleventh

getting out to sea.  I was even glad of what I had learned in the afternoon at the office of the company—that at the eleventh hour an old ship with a lower standard of speed had been put on in place of the vessel in which I had taken my passage.  America was roasting, England might very well be stuffy, and

the company—that at the eleventh hour an old ship with a lower standard of speed had been put on in place of the vessel in which I had taken my passage.  America was roasting, England might very well be stuffy, and a slow passage (which at that season of the year would probably also be a fine one) was a guarantee of ten or twelve days of fresh air. I strolled down

servants, in the extravagance of their leisure, were profaning the tables.  The heat was insufferable and I thought with joy of the morrow, of the deck of the steamer, the freshening breeze, the sense of getting out to sea.  I was even glad of what I had learned in the afternoon at the office of the company—that at the eleventh hour an old ship with a lower standard of speed had been put

Indifference to growth is heresy among Western capitalists. Yet no-growth business makes up a large part of the economy already. No one expects their local family-run restaurant to endlessly enlarge. That same model is common among the longest-lived businesses, said Tetsuya O'Hara, a product innovation consultant who has worked with Gap Inc. and Patagonia....Japan is a hotbed for them (long lived-businesses) with nearly thirty-five thousand companies that are more than a century old, and dozens that have endured for more than five hundred years.

Rush? not in the least.  I take it uncommon easy.” “Ah I’m bound to say you do!” Mrs. Nettlepoint returned with inconsequence.  I guessed at a certain tension between the pair and a want of consideration on the young man’s part, arising perhaps from selfishness.  His mother was nervous, in suspense, wanting to be at rest as to whether she should have his company on the voyage or be obliged to struggle alone.  But as he stood there smiling and slowly moving his fan he struck me somehow as a person on whom this fact wouldn’t sit too heavily.  He was of the type of those whom other people worry about, not of those who worry about other people.  Tall and strong,

It is hard to find many better examples of values-first leadership than Ventura, California-based outdoor clothing company Patagonia. For more than 30 years, the company has defied conventional wisdom by building its brand as much around environmental responsibility as on quality products and service. How many businesses would run a marketing campaign encouraging customers to not buy new products but repair the old ones instead in order to reduce their environmental footprint? Only companies interested in creating a “lovability economy” would prioritize sustainable growth for themselves and the world and take a long-term perspective. They see themselves as stewards of meaningful relationships and understand that mutually positive interactions and exchanges of value are lasting. Patagonia has even made its supply chain public with an online map showing every farm, textile mill, and factory it uses in sourcing its materials and manufacturing its products. Anyone who wants to can see where their Patagonia products come from and verify that the company is walking the walk — using sustainable materials and producing apparel in facilities that are safe for workers. That is transparency that breeds trust. Founder Yvon Chouinard’s vision has also led to a culture that is not only employee-friendly (the company even encourages employees at its corporate headquarters to quit early when the surf is up) but attracts people whose values align with the company’s. This aggressively anti-profit, pro-values approach has yielded big dividends. The privately-held benefit corporation is tight-lipped about its revenues, but two years after it began its “cause marketing” campaign, sales increased 27 percent, to $575 million in 2013.7

I was in the zone, each day biking farther than the last, and becoming ever more accustomed to my solitude. An entire day passed without me speaking to a single human. I did speak though, just to the world. I love talking to the road and to trees and birds. My voice keeps me company.

So he gave me the companies, saying in effect, “Here’s Patagonia. Here’s Chouinard Equipment. Do with them what you will. I’m going climbing.” I had no business experience so I started asking people for free advice. I just called up presidents of banks and said, “I’ve been given these companies to run and I’ve no idea what I’m doing. I think someone should help me.” And they did. If you just ask people for help—if you just admit that you don’t know something—they will fall all over themselves trying to help. So, from there I began building the company. I was really the translator for Yvon’s vision and aims for the company.

I took a dozen of my top managers to Argentina, to the windswept mountains of the real Patagonia, for a walkabout. In the course of roaming around those wildlands, we asked ourselves why we were in business and what kind of business we wanted Patagonia to be. A billion-dollar company? Okay, but not if it meant we had to make products we couldn’t be proud of. We also discussed what we could do to help stem the environmental harm we caused as a company. We talked about the values we had in common and the shared culture that had brought everyone to Patagonia, Inc., and not to another company.

Patagonia acts in a way that is not just good for them, it’s good for the game . . . and it’s working. Other companies now follow their lead.

On November 25, 2011, outdoor clothing company Patagonia took out a full-page ad in The New York Times with the headline: “Don’t Buy This Jacket.” Though some cynics saw the headline as a publicity stunt by a high-priced brand that many people can’t afford, it is in the details of the ad that we can find clues about the kind of culture Patagonia has and that inspired such an ad in the first place. In the body copy of the ad, Patagonia did something most other companies would consider unthinkable. They explained, in plain language, the environmental cost of making their product, in this case the bestselling R2 Fleece. The copy read: “To make this jacket required 135 liters water, enough to meet the daily needs (three glasses a day) of 45 people. Its journey from its origin as 60% recycled polyester to our Reno warehouse generated nearly 20 pounds of carbon dioxide, 24 times the weight of the finished product. This jacket left behind, on its way to Reno, two-thirds its weight in waste.” “There is much to be done and plenty for us all to do,” the ad concludes. “Don’t buy what you don’t need. Think twice before you buy anything. … Join us … to reimagine a world where we take only what nature can replace.