20 . 10 . 2009
Confessions of a Volunteer
By Emily
I’m not much of a volunteering type of person. In fact, that’s
probably a massive understatement. The truth of the matter is, I don’t
think I’ve ever volunteered a day in my life. Shameful! I know! I like
to think I’ve done a few good things over the years. I help old ladies
with their bags, I’ve worked with children for very little pay,
and I always bring extra wine to parties. But volunteering has never
been much more than a “yeah, I oughter” sort of thing for me.
However, when I found myself spending a lot of time in Montreal this
past summer with nothing much to occupy my days and no possibility of
official “work” on the horizon, I began vaguely casting about for
something to do. Not that I wouldn’t have been quite happy hanging
around on my balcony watching my cherry tomatoes grow, or meandering
the streets on trash days looking for salvaged treasures. But I was
definitely lacking any sense of *community* in my temporary home town.
So when my lovely new friend Carole contacted me on a sunny Thursday
in July and suggested that I attend a S.W.A.P. Team meeting with her
that evening, I found that I had no excuse not to. My Thursday French
classes had just ended. I had no pesky “job” to hold me back. The
meeting was at Station C, which I’d heard about and which sounded
cool. My boyfriend would most likely survive the shock of coming home
after work and not finding me parked in front of the TV. But most
compelling of all, the concept of S.W.A.P. itself was right up my
alley. Friperie-browsing is probably the closest thing I’ve got to a
hobby. I can spend many contented hours wandering the chaotic aisles
of $3 garments and tchotchkes thrown every which way. So for better or
worse, I couldn’t think of one smidgen of a reason to say no. I
RSVP’ed “yes” on Facebook so that there’d be no last-minute backing
out, put on my cutest secondhand outfit, and off I went.
I often find that trying new things, and – more to the point – meeting
new people to be rather scary. Some people are surprised to discover
this about me, though I know I’m far from alone. And this is the
reason I often only do things that I HAVE to do: work, for example,
and going out juuust often enough to avoid becoming a crazy recluse.
Admittedly, walking into Station C by myself, not knowing anyone, was
fairly daunting. Shades of being the new kid in the cafeteria. I
hesitated.
Luckily, cool folks were right there to greet me. Aleece, Nicole,
Simon, Danielle – all fab, friendly, and eco-consciously fashionable
to boot. There was mingling, and maybe a beer or two. There were
explanations and signup sheets. There was talk of the philosophy of
S.W.A.P. – recycled clothing, environmental fashion, “sharing as the
antidote to overconsumption.” I could get behind all this stuff. I
signed up for clothing pickups and clothes sorting.
My evening of clothing pickups was an adventure. Thankfully Carole had
agreed to be my navigator, and helped me avoid driving in circles
around a city I still didn’t know too well. I discovered that there
were neighborhoods beyond the Plateau, and that all sorts of folks
were excited about swapping their old clothes – though some of them I
couldn’t quite picture attending the Piknic Electronik. Clothes
sorting took place in a creepy old warehouse straight out of a movie,
complete with flickering (and randomly extinguishing) lights, and was
dusty, sneezy, and entertaining. Ah, the unmentionable treasures we
unearthed! (and sometimes promptly disposed of.) Driving around in an
old kidnappers van and having a pizza & beer picnic in Little Italy were
definite highlights.
And then, all too soon, the grand finale – what we’d all been waiting
for – the swap itself. Labor Day weekend dawned blue-skied and
perfect. I found my way to the Piknic Electronik at Parc
Jean-Drapeau (after a few confused phone calls) and discovered that
the team had done an incredible job of transporting a zillion garments
from the warehouse to the park with nary a casualty. I and the other
volunteers went to work organizing, making signs, and hanging up the
last few garments. A spacious dressing room was set up, tickets were
given out, and roles were assigned. (Being neither bi-lingual enough
to feel comfortable with the fashionable crowd nor scary enough to act
as security, I decided to just flit around looking helpful.)
The gates opened promptly at 2pm, and our makeshift aisles were soon
filled with environmentally minded fashionistas exclaiming over all
the cool stuff. Sadly for me, I had to jet off soon afterwards for a
Labor Day visit to my native New England – I didn’t even have time to
trade in all my tickets, though I did come away with my new favorite
secondhand outfit. But with the perfect weather, the groovy folks, and
the funky clothes, I could have happily stuck around all weekend – and
next year, I definitely plan to.
Editor’s note: Want to join our volunteer crew? Email: volunteer@theswapteam.org.
