THE CPSIA: LIKE AN ANVIL ON A ONESIE

I’m a big fan of irony. HUGE. And I’ve always loved the image of the anvil--loved it even more and found it delicious, incongruous & unexpectedly pleasing to put on an infant onesie or toddler t-shirt.

Anvil was one of my first block designs, which I carefully, experimentally carved with my son napping in a sling. I remember the sense of excitement I had starting my own company! The feeling that this design, in particular, captured what I wanted to do, which was to offer something different than all the other Tom, Dick & Hannas, something artisanal-yet-everyday—washable, wearable art--and affordable. Three years later, Anvil remains unabashedly my favorite, though it is nowhere near my biggest seller.

Anvil:

-Something abstract, retro, connoting the skilled, autonomous craftsman and all-things artisanal.

-Something reaaalllly heavy, painful and life-altering when it blindsides you over the head with a CLONK!

The Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act is that proverbial Anvil on a Onesie. I, a flagrant lover of metaphor, feel it sitting on my chest, as an artisan—but also as a mother, a business owner and a consumer.

According to the CPSIA, The Happy Tomato, the company I’ve carefully conceived and spent the past few years raising from home alongside my children—where I offer you the same thoughtful, responsibly created designs I put next to my own children’s skin--will be unable to sell you these designs, unless I can submit to thousands of dollars worth of testing to “prove” that my currently lead-free products—surprise!—don’t contain lead.

I print my block designs to cotton clothing and accessories, using certified non-toxic ink, none of which I technically “manufacture.” NEVER MIND the fact that it’s impossible for these materials to contain lead, logic would say that if my suppliers of the cotton clothing and ink certify that their products are safe, I should be in the clear combining the two, right? WRONG. The flaw in this law which will most impact small designers like me is the current mandate for whole product testing—even when the whole is comprised of risk-free parts.

Actually, the things made in America or by small craftspeople or businesses are not those which have been continually linked to lead poisoning in children. And before you go there, YES, “one is too many”—no one is arguing that children’s safety isn’t critical, least of all a mother who is basically unflappable except when she suspects someone is microwaving plastic within a 3-mile radius of her children—but this isn’t a safety issue, it is a compliance issue. Those who want to comply, have no means.

Independent designers like me are not going to have trouble meeting the requirements for lead-safety—we’re already using safe materials—it’s that we won’t be able to afford the mandatory, exorbitant, third-party testing which will be impossible to absorb into the cost of the product, relative to small production numbers. Even IF I could afford the testing upfront, my prices would have to go from something like 28 to 190 for a onesie…did you feel that clonk?

I feel it’s important to reassure you…and to rile you up a bit: this is a relationship of trust, and as a designer and mother I can and must reassure you that the safety of my products has never been in question. Now the riling part: though my heart lies with the artisans and small business of our society, the ramifications of this law condemn all of us to less choice and higher prices across the entire marketplace. Yes, I have a fondness for the lute-playing alphabet-block whittler ensconced in a copse of Maine woods—but I also have a tendency to buy things from Target and enjoy a fondness for things like school supplies and books from Amazon—and ALL OF IT will be affected. There will be less of it, and it will all cost more.

I’m just a former Kindergarten teacher turned stay-at-home mom & designer, whose sales at worst don’t hurt anyone else and at best bring me some income. I have poured all of my residual passion, sleep & finances (which I frankly might have spent on sleep or looking good in my mom-jeans ) into The Happy Tomato, and the CPSIA and February 10th foists on me the demise of the very small piece of autonomy I have carved out.

So, until Congress hears all of us, get yer anvils--while they’re hot!