From The Slate: Why your clothes are made in China.
This week, I put down the books and visited the scene of a crime.
The crime occurred on the sixth floor of a brick-and-stone building sandwiched between a sausage factory and a parking garage. There, five years ago, behind grimy windows, Chinese women slaved for 11 hours a day, stitching garments for a subcontractor hired by Donna Karan International. The women received no bathroom breaks, no overtime pay, no sick days, no paid vacation, and no maternity leave. They were screamed at to “work faster” and paid “per piece””earning wages that could only be called “living” if “living” means boiled water and rice. I didn’t see the actual factory”a burly security guard stood between me and the elevator and, by now, architectural, financial-planning, and travel services firms have supplanted it”but I craned my neck and got a look at the windows. I also daydreamed about a foray into real-estate development: The building’s gorgeous stone-work, terraces, and skyline and river views, it seemed, were easily convertible into multimillion-dollar lofts.
