Notes - Dirtbag Billionaire

September 9, 2025

Chapter 1: A Rhythm All His Own

"Invent My Own Game"

Yvon Chouinard was born in Lewiston, Maine, on November 9, 1938, into a world less impacted by modernity, with a global population roughly a quarter of what it is today and stable global average temperatures. His paternal grandfather, Jacques, was a farmer and a descendent of Canadian fur trappers who moved the family to Lisbon, Maine, in the early 20th century. His father, Gerard, had only three years of schooling but was skilled in many trades, including fixing looms at the Worumbo Woolen Mill, and taught Yvon practical wisdom. Yvon's mother, Yvonne, named him after a Canadian wrestler, Yvon Robert.

Chouinard's childhood was characterized by an "abiding love of nature," learned from wandering the woods and fishing in local creeks and the Androscoggin River with his brother, Jeff. The family was thrifty, relying on their farm during World War II rationing, and Yvon witnessed his father perform his own dental work with electrician's pliers to save money. In 1946, his family moved to Burbank, California, at his mother's insistence, seeking a warmer climate for his father's asthma and to prevent her children from working in mills. This move was traumatic for Chouinard, as he couldn't speak English and felt like an outcast. He struggled academically, getting straight Ds in his first year, but thrived outdoors, exploring, fishing, and reading about trapping.

His interest in nature intensified as Los Angeles expanded. In 1951, he discovered free diving in La Jolla, practicing breath-holding during math class and improvising a weight belt from an ammunition satchel filled with lead pellets. He remained an outsider in high school, described as short, acne-ridden, and petrified of girls, even skipping his prom to catch frogs in the Los Angeles River. Chouinard "hated head-to-head competition" and decided to "invent my own game" to always be a winner, understanding his gifts and limitations early on.

"Lucky Nobody Got Killed"

Chouinard found a blend of camaraderie and athleticism in falconry, joining the Southern California Falconry Club in 1953. This led him to learn rappelling from Don Prentice, using stolen manila cord to descend cliffs. He and others made their own rappelling gear, and he nearly died once when ropes tangled around his neck. They pushed limits by attempting 50-foot descents in a single hop, a time he reflected, "It was lucky nobody got killed".

During a falconry trip in 1954, Chouinard and Tom Cade discovered crushed eggs, an early sign of DDT's impact on peregrine falcons, leading to their first involvement in public policy and activism to protect the birds. His interest then shifted to rock climbing, and he sought larger peaks, buying and repairing a broken 1929 Ford Model A at 16 to travel.

In the summer of 1955, Chouinard, a novice, summited Gannett Peak in Wyoming alone on his first try, a remarkable feat. He then joined experienced climbers in the Tetons and Yosemite Valley. Money was scarce, leading him to live a "dirtbag climber" lifestyle, sleeping outdoors, foraging, hunting, and surviving on very little, sometimes eating cat food. He found climbing to be an act of rebellion against conventional life and society. Despite his quiet demeanor and small stature, he was a gifted athlete and read widely from transcendentalist and environmentalist authors like John Muir and Henry David Thoreau.

His first serious brush with death came on a first ascent of Crooked Thumb, where he fell 160 feet, sustaining a gash to the bone. This experience, more than the physical injury, was a "miscalculation that gnawed at him," making his legs shake on future climbs but ultimately deepening his commitment to climbing as an identity and a way of life.

"His Gear Stood Out"

After high school, Chouinard took odd jobs, including baling hay and guiding climbs. He also worked for his brother, Jeff, who was Howard Hughes's head of security, sometimes trailing Hughes's romantic interests or guarding an empty yacht for weeks. He briefly attended junior college but never graduated.

His true vocation emerged from necessity: improving climbing pitons. Existing pitons were soft, bent easily, and heavy for multiday ascents. In 1957, with his parents' support, he converted their backyard chicken coop into a workshop, buying a used anvil and forge. He learned blacksmithing from books and crafted his first pitons from salvaged steel. These pitons were stiffer and reusable, selling for $1.50 each, significantly more than imported ones, but proving to climbers that quality was worth a premium. This taught him a crucial lesson: "if he made the very best product, consumers would pay a premium".

Chouinard took his forge on the road, combining piton production with his new passion, surfing, which he took up in the mid-1950s. He made his own surfboards from balsa wood and sold his climbing gear during big-wall climbing season. He then developed a lighter carabiner, a reusable clip, by borrowing money from his parents for an aluminum forging die from Alcoa. This led him to recruit friends for production, and they sold carabiners as fast as they could make them.

Despite making little money (a 1% profit margin), Chouinard embraced being a "blacksmith," driven by the need for better gear and his skill in improving it. Royal Robbins, a top climber, noted that "Chouinard’s equipment was that much better," highlighting its inventiveness and quality. His audacious mountaineering fueled his design innovation; when traditional pitons failed on Kat Pinnacle in 1960, he and Tom Frost designed the "Realized Ultimate Reality Piton," or RURP, a razor-thin, chrome-nickel steel piton for narrow cracks. This led to managing costs, margins, and inventory, and he recognized Frost as a business partner. Chouinard was seen as a "poetic soul" and "maddeningly creative" by Robbins. His reputation grew, with many initially mistaking his name as "Yvonne".

He became a fixture at Camp 4 in Yosemite, living as an "outsider among outsiders," and at one point proposed an invitation-only Yosemite Climbing Club to limit impact on the valley. In 1962, he and TM Herbert achieved an audacious first ascent on Sentinel Rock, now known as the Chouinard-Herbert route. His rhythm involved blacksmithing in California winters, selling gear from his car in spring, and climbing in the Tetons and Shawangunks. He deliberately eschewed postwar technological progress, returning to ancient methods.

"Destroying Our Home Planet"

In 1962, after a car delivery job landed him in jail for 18 days in New Mexico, Chouinard was drafted into the army. Despite his "congenital aversion to authority" and pacifism, and attempts to avoid service, he was cleared for basic training. He won a physical fitness competition for a three-day leave to climb. Before deployment, he hastily married Carol Lamb, known as "Peanut".

Assigned as a mechanic for guided-missile systems in Korea, Chouinard caused trouble to get leave, eventually being assigned a simple generator task, allowing him to climb granite walls around Seoul. He used the base library to study engineering and metallurgy, preparing for his craft after discharge. Back in San Francisco, he met Doug Tompkins, who became his best friend and foil. Tompkins, from a wealthy background, was also a rebellious "dirtbag".

Their lives and careers intertwined; Tompkins founded Esprit, becoming richer than Chouinard, and later immersed himself in conservation. They egged each other on, with Tompkins being a maximalist focused on growth and Chouinard a minimalist. Tompkins often helped Chouinard skip army duties, and during their day trips around the Bay Area, they had a "foundational epiphany": humans were "destroying our home planet," and "each of us...was responsible to protect and restore the wild nature that we loved".

Chapter 2: Dirtbags

"Modern Yosemite Climbing"

After being discharged from the army and his marriage to Peanut ending, Chouinard returned to his anvil in Burbank. He organized his growing business, hiring climbing friends and creating a one-sheet mimeographed catalog that famously cautioned against expecting "speedy delivery in the months of May, June, July, August and September" during climbing season. Despite his unorthodox approach, his high-quality gear was sought after.

Meanwhile, global supply chains were emerging, leading to the closure of the Worumbo Woolen Mill in Maine, Yvon's hometown, due to cheap imports. Chouinard, however, was focused on scaling bigger walls. One challenging climb was the North American Wall of El Capitan in Yosemite in 1964, a "sheer granite slab with perilously few holds". With Royal Robbins, Tom Frost, and Chuck Pratt, he embarked on a multiday ascent, hauling 200 pounds of supplies and sleeping in narrow hammocks. Conditions were harsh, with swollen fingers and sore wrists from constant hammering. A week into the climb, Chouinard noted in his journal that "Two meals a day of one square inch of salami, a tiny square of cheese and a handful of gorp is just not enough". Despite the difficulties, they reached the summit on October 30, a "remarkable test of the men’s fortitude". Chouinard later reflected on their ability to adjust and find enormous energy from small rations.

This experience led Chouinard to articulate a new philosophy for rock climbing, emphasizing "small expeditions going into remote areas and trying new and extremely difficult routes with a minimum of equipment, no support parties nor fixed ropes to the ground; living for days and weeks at a time on the climb and leaving no signs of their presence behind". He described this "purer form of climbing" as requiring more effort, personal adjustment, risk, and offering greater rewards.

His essay, "Modern Yosemite Climbing," further detailed his worldview, offering technical advice for Yosemite's granite cracks and documenting the unwelcoming attitudes of local climbers. Chouinard sought to reconcile his passions, business interests, and love for nature, expressing a "strange, passionate love" for Yosemite.

"Oh My God, I Am a Businessman"

Chouinard spent more time in San Francisco with Doug Tompkins, who had opened The North Face, a store that became a "mecca for climbers, Beats, vagabonds, and hippies". The store, located near City Lights bookstore, was part of a countercultural moment. It sold outdoor gear, including Chouinard's products, and served as a social hub, hosting events like a Grateful Dead concert in 1966.

Tompkins expanded The North Face but grew restless, selling it in 1967 for $40,000, a pittance compared to its future success. He invested half in his wife Susie Russell's clothing business, Plain Jane, and the other half in an adventure film.

Chouinard took a different path. In 1965, he moved his workshop from his parents' chicken coop to a rented shack, and then to Ventura, California, in 1966, a "sleepy beachside community" with great waves. His company, Chouinard Equipment for Alpinists, set up in a rented tin shed that became a hub for climbers and craftsmen. They worked shirtless, often disrupted by good surf. Chouinard even lived in the shop for parts of the year.

He formalized his partnership with climbing buddy Tom Frost, an aeronautical engineer, to automate production as demand grew. Their collaboration was seamless, moving "from the walls of Yosemite to the workshop in Ventura". They expanded their workforce, including Chouinard's nephew Vincent Stanley, Mexican craftsmen, and locals like Kris McDivitt. Sales quickly doubled annually, though margins remained slim.

A trip to Chamonix, France, in 1966, led Chouinard to redesign the ice axe, creating a curved pick with deep serrations that improved performance. This "classic Chouinard bit of design" became a breakthrough product, selling for $60 apiece. He realized he was becoming a businessman, a "greaseball" in his own words, and sought books on running a company.

"Viva Los Fun Hogs"

Doug Tompkins, restless after selling The North Face, became obsessed with Cerro Fitz Roy in Patagonia, Argentina, and convinced Chouinard to join an expedition. Chouinard, familiar with the peak's challenges, was "hankering for adventure" in the largely unexplored region. Chouinard Equipment was left in the care of Frost and his wife, Doreen.

Tompkins recruited Lito Tejada-Flores, a Bolivian photographer, and Dick Dorworth, a skier. They acquired a 1965 Ford Econoline van, customized it, and packed it with gear for "The 1968 California Fun Hogs Expedition to Patagonia," with a flag reading "VIVA LOS FUN HOGS. Patagonia ’68". They drove south from California in July, surfing in Mexico, navigating dirt roads, and overcoming challenges like being held at gunpoint in Guatemala. Chouinard sustained a neck injury while diving in Colombia. They skied a volcano, and Chouinard, strapped into skis for only the second time, tumbled down carrying 40 pounds of equipment. They even forged a fake vehicle deed to cross the Argentinian border.

Patagonia, a remote and miraculous region, with its glaciers, peaks, and wild rivers, was their destination. Tompkins briefly returned to San Francisco to help Susie with Plain Jane's booming sales before rejoining the team. The Fun Hogs spent 31 days in a snow cave near Fitz Roy, waiting for a weather window, cold, hungry, and bored. Chouinard, on his 30th birthday, called it a low point, reading "The Hero with a Thousand Faces" and fiddling with his gear. They supplemented their sparse food by killing and storing sheep from a nearby gaucho's land.

Their clothes failed in the harsh conditions, leading Chouinard to realize the market for durable outdoor apparel. Tompkins encouraged him to expand beyond climbing equipment, arguing that clothing had a much larger and more frequent demand. Chouinard initially resisted, seeing clothing as a commodity without needing craftsmanship, but this conversation planted the "seeds of it". They also discussed using their businesses to "change the world," understanding the need to retain control from outside investors who wouldn't share their ideals. On December 20, 1968, the five men completed the third successful ascent of Fitz Roy, celebrating with their "VIVA LOS FUN HOGS" banner.

"Great Harm to the Rocks"

By 1970, Chouinard Equipment dominated the US climbing gear market, grossing $300,000 annually, primarily from pitons. However, Chouinard realized his reusable pitons, while better than previous ones, were "doing great harm to the rocks," scarring ancient geological formations. Feeling responsible, he decided his company would find an alternative, despite pitons being a huge part of his profitable business. He believed in cleaning up his messes and that the planet was his religion.

The solution was chocks, perforated metal chunks wedged into crevices rather than hammered. Chocks weren't new; Welsh climbers had used stones and large nuts since the 1920s to avoid damaging cliffs. Chouinard and Frost developed a "whole universe of chocks," including hexentrics and stoppers, once again refining an existing product. This shift was Chouinard's first overhaul to protect the environment, putting into action the ideas he and Tompkins discussed in the ice cave. He also adapted his climbing techniques to scale walls without pitons, leading to the ethos of "clean climbing".

In 1972, Chouinard Equipment's first catalog, created in the spirit of the Whole Earth Catalog, featured a Chinese scroll painting and quotes from thinkers like Albert Einstein. Its core was a 14-page essay by Doug Robinson explaining "clean climbing" as leaving the rock unaltered. The introduction by Chouinard and Frost, titled "A word . . . ," was a manifesto articulating their worldview, critiquing climbing's cost and the "moral deterioration" of climbers, advocating for "simplicity" and "communication with oneself—and nature". This manifesto solidified their commitment to being capitalists who were also "good stewards of nature and responsible citizens of planet Earth".

This era saw the dawn of American environmentalism, with figures like Rachel Carson raising awareness about DDT and President Nixon's advisor Daniel Patrick Moynihan predicting global warming and rising sea levels. Clean climbing quickly caught on, and Chouinard's business matured, outsourcing manufacturing and incorporating as the Great Pacific Iron Works in 1972 to facilitate expansion.

Chapter 3: Pushing the Limits

"Our Own Way of Doing Business"

Chouinard's life changed when he met Ellen Malinda Pennoyer in Yosemite; he was impressed when she ripped off a driver's license plate for littering. Malinda, an art student, understood his "dirtbag lifestyle" despite his rough edges, and they married in 1970. She soon joined Chouinard Equipment.

They established a permanent base for the company in Ventura, buying the tin shed and nearby buildings. They also bought a small house on Faria Beach and built a second home in Moose, Wyoming, near the Tetons, on land once conserved by John D. Rockefeller Jr.. Their homes were furnished simply, reflecting Chouinard's disdain for materialism.

Chouinard realized he was a company leader with responsibilities, but he refused to adhere to "normal rules of business". He wanted work to be "fun" and adventurous, with employees having "irreverence," being friends, and having the freedom to surf or pursue other passions. He declared, "We just invented our own way of doing business," and "it worked".

The Chouinards became involved in local politics. In 1972, Malinda helped organize a bike ride to support Proposition 9, the Clean Environment Act, advocating for the California coast. Chouinard personally supported Mark Capelli's Friends of the Ventura River with a $3,000 grant, the company's first environmental grant, which helped protect the Ventura River and its surf break. This showed Chouinard the impact of his money.

"Software"

Chouinard's entry into clothing, which he called "software" to distinguish it from "hardware" (metal gear), was accidental. In the mid-1960s, while climbing in England, he noticed locals wearing durable corduroy pants and began selling them. Later, a rugby shirt he bought in Scotland for its toughness became popular among climbers in Yosemite for its durability and bright colors, which provided a welcome contrast to drab outdoor wear. A customer's request for "non-ugly color" further convinced him.

He started importing rugby shirts from England, Argentina, and New Zealand, but demand outstripped supply. An "epiphany" struck him: he needed his "own clothing brand" rather than just reselling other companies' products. This reinforced Tompkins's earlier insight from the ice cave about the larger market for clothing.

For his first design, Chouinard created the "Stand Up Shorts," with a double layer of tough canvas and large pockets, which became a best-selling item. As the clothing business grew, he decided to separate it from Chouinard Equipment, launching Patagonia in 1973. The name evoked "far-off places" and referenced the region that tested him and his friends.

This was an "opportune moment" as interest in climbing surged, and outdoor retailers proliferated. Patagonia set up a sewing shop, and Val Franco began producing Stand Up Shorts. However, a bold decision in 1974 to contract with a Hong Kong factory for rugby shirts resulted in "horrible" quality, unpredictable sizing, and late deliveries, jeopardizing the company's finances. This taught Chouinard an early lesson in managing a global supply chain.

Facing a cash crunch, Patagonia struggled to secure loans, even declining a 28% interest offer from a "Mafia associate," before securing a line of credit from a local bank. Patagonia then developed the Foamback jacket and sought a synthetic pile sweater material. Malinda found a light-blue synthetic pile material in Los Angeles, intended for bathroom floor mats and toilet seat covers. Chouinard, inspired by animals, decided to sew the jackets with the "bushy pile facing out". Franco stitched prototypes, which proved "warm, they didn’t hold water, they dried quickly, and they were incredibly durable". These synthetic pile jackets, though "ugly" and prone to holding body odor, became popular, marking a pivot to synthetic fabrics (plastic).

Next, Chouinard addressed underwear, seeking quick-drying polypropylene fiber. Patagonia became the first to make it thick enough for insulation, and polypropylene long underwear sold briskly. This led to Patagonia promoting "layering" (base, mid, and outer layers) to stay warm and dry, an innovation widely replicated. Patagonia's sales skyrocketed from $250,000 to over $2 million annually, but the embrace of synthetic fabrics, made from fossil fuels, also "ushered in a new era of environmentally destructive apparel".

"A Box Full of Misfit Toys"

The Hong Kong shirt debacle strained relations between Malinda Chouinard and Tom Frost. Frost's insistence on hiring Ray Heagle, a Mormon executive, led to a "culture clash" with the laid-back staff. Heagle's rigid approach, like discouraging surf breaks, was met with resistance. Chouinard quickly ousted Heagle, realizing "Nobody can" work with him. The Chouinards bought out Frost in 1975 due to "competing visions".

Patagonia became more of a family affair, relying on Vincent Stanley, Malinda, and Kris and Roger McDivitt. However, Chouinard lacked the Frosts' manufacturing, engineering, and organizational expertise, making him a businessman on his own. By 1977, the company had 16 full-time employees, with its Ventura headquarters becoming a "cultural mecca". Thoreau's quote, "Simplification of means and elevation of ends is the goal," adorned a wall. The "ragtag band of craftsmen" were a "box full of misfit toys," known for their flexibility and informal work environment.

Chouinard, burnt out and preferring to be outdoors, tapped Kris McDivitt as general manager in 1979. He told her, "Here’s Patagonia... Do with them what you will. I’m going climbing". McDivitt, a former competitive skier with degrees in sociology and psychology, had started as a packer at Patagonia. She quickly sought advice from a Manufacturers Bank president in Los Angeles on scaling a clothing company, admitting, "I have no idea what to do". She secured a transformative order for Stand Up Shorts from L.L.Bean.

Her decision to install time card machines to track hourly employees caused an uproar among the staff, who felt like they were in a "prison camp". Despite the backlash, McDivitt stood firm, seeing it as a necessary step to "professionalize ourselves without losing who we were". She recognized the company's "flaws and contradictions".

Chapter 4: Patagoniacs

"Real People Doing Real Things"

By the early 1970s, Chouinard needed a logo for Patagonia. Freelance artist Jocelyn Slack, inspired by an image of Fitz Roy in a climbing guidebook, created a silhouette of the peaks with the company name below.

Patagonia's marketing of clothes was initially poor. For the 1980 catalog, Rick Ridgeway used employees from the machine shop as stiff models, which McDivitt called out: "The photographs really suck, pal". Chouinard, while surfing with Ridgeway, had an insight: use "actual customers, wearing the clothes and using the gear, out in the field. No staged models looking at the camera. No studios and fake backgrounds. Just humans in the wild, enjoying nature. All the better if some of the clothes were ripped or dirty. 'Real people doing real things,' he said".

Jennifer Ridgeway, Rick's wife and a former fashion executive, joined as head of the art department. Despite her initial reluctance, she, McDivitt, and Chouinard revolutionized advertising by featuring athletes and families, including Chouinard himself, in authentic, wild settings. Patagonia then invited customers to "Capture a Patagoniac," sending in thousands of photos of themselves using the gear, which were then included in catalogs. This "user-generated content" helped forge strong ties with customers and became a new marketing field. Iconic images included a climber on a T. rex statue and "The Flying Baby". These catalogs served as visual testimonials, a "call to action," and a way for Chouinard to maintain control of Patagonia's identity without traditional advertising.

"It's Me or the Baby!"

The presence of infants in the Patagonia office became common as employees, including the Frosts and Chouinards, had children. Carissa Ridgeway's "piercing cry" particularly forced the issue of childcare. California law did not require maternity leave, so mothers returned to work quickly, and local daycare options were poor.

Malinda Chouinard, drawing on her empathy for the working class, made a unilateral decision to open a childcare center. In 1983, she procured a trailer, and Jennifer Ridgeway's mother cared for children there. When Ventura County officials required licensing, Malinda ensured a permanent childcare facility was built into a new office building, even sketching it onto blueprints. McDivitt initially questioned the idea, but in 1985, the "Great Pacific Child Development Center" was inaugurated.

Malinda improvised further, buying a van for transportation and burying the cost in the shipping department's budget. The program evolved beyond mere caretaking, aiming to foster "curious, generous, resilient, active children" through self-directed play and outdoor time, influenced by Montessori and Waldorf philosophies. Children in the program understood they were "at work". Strategically distributing facilities around campus, Malinda ensured that "peals of young laughter" were inescapable, which softened interactions and created a "sense of unity" among employees.

Despite challenges like vandalism and vagrants, the program became an integral part of Patagonia's culture. Malinda saw it as a "lopsided fight" against the lack of federally mandated paid maternity leave in the US. On-site childcare helped women stay in the workforce and improved employee engagement, leading to a high number of women in senior leadership. Over 40 years later, the program is thriving with three facilities, 17 classrooms, over 200 students, and a 3-to-1 teacher ratio, and Patagonia offers a "child and companion program" for nursing mothers traveling for work. Dean Carter, former HR head, emphasized that this showcased Patagonia's deep value for families and women.

"Management by Absence"

Chouinard continued to spend months away from the office, pursuing climbing, fishing, and pioneering new extreme sports like ice climbing, often with the "Do Boys" (including Tompkins). He called these trips his "MBA" – "management by absence" – justifying them as necessary for testing gear and generating product ideas. However, these extended absences caused "turmoil" back at the office; employees would "get nervous" and "girding themselves for the mayhem that would inevitably ensue" before his return, as he would often dismiss existing projects and demand new ones. "He was not a great communicator," and his staff felt "at his mercy".

Some trips were particularly profound. In 1980, after a grueling climb of Denali, Chouinard, Rick Ridgeway, and Peter Hackett took mescaline at Bishop's Beach in Alaska, experiencing a psychedelic clam hunt. This event, captured in a catalog photo, was captioned "Lucidly searching for clams".

Later, Chouinard joined an expedition to Minya Konka in the Himalayas, a remote 24,800-foot peak. On October 13, the team, including Ridgeway and Jonathan Wright, was caught in an avalanche. They were swept over cliffs, and Wright died from a broken neck. Chouinard was half-buried, concussed, and suffered broken ribs. This event, which deeply depressed him and others for months, transformed Chouinard's outlook, leading him to lose "all fear of dying". He also gained a "visceral understanding of the damage being done to the planet," seeing pristine landscapes spoiled globally.

Chouinard recognized his own complicity, with two houses and extensive travel, admitting, "There are a million holes in my philosophy". He felt "consumed with dread about the destruction of wilderness". Returning to Fitz Roy in 1986, he was horrified to find the landscape transformed by a new city, Chaltén, with suburban development and strip malls. He concluded that his own exploits and the Patagonia logo had unintentionally contributed to this "mess," and he has not returned since.

"The Kleenex of Fleece"

Chouinard was driven by dissatisfaction, constantly seeking improvements for Patagonia's gear. He needed a new, warm, and fast-drying material beyond wool and early synthetic pile. He found it in Malden, Massachusetts, at Malden Mills, a textile factory with a history of innovation. Run by Aaron Feuerstein, Malden Mills had explored synthetic fabrics and even produced the material for Chouinard's original synthetic pile sweaters (from toilet seat covers).

In the early 1980s, Malden Mills developed a new polyester fleece that was soft, voluminous, light, warm, and wicked moisture. Chouinard, delighted, collaborated with them to refine the material, which "didn’t pill" and was "incredibly soft, almost like the fur of a chinchilla," leading to its name: Synchilla. Patagonia introduced its first Synchilla product, the Synchilla Snap-T, which became a bestseller. The design was refined with Bob Kettenhofen's idea for an angled pocket, preventing sunglasses from sliding into the armpit.

Chouinard then focused on his underwear, needing a quick-drying base layer that didn't stink after weeks in the backcountry. He tasked his team to solve this, having observed a polyester football jersey at a trade show that was easy to clean and wicked moisture. Working with Milliken, they developed a custom polyester material called Capilene, which was cheap, easy to clean, wicked moisture, and had a high melting point.

Going all-in on polyester was a risk, as 70% of Patagonia's sales came from polypropylene and bunting fleece. Chouinard, however, was not afraid to phase out successful products, much like he did with pitons. He embraced the "innovator’s dilemma" to "rush headlong toward these new materials". Patagonia's sales reps were initially hesitant but were convinced by the superior quality of Synchilla and Capilene. Retailers were also persuaded, leading to "new heights" in sales for both products. Synchilla became so popular it was "the Kleenex of fleece" for many years, even saving Malden Mills.

Chouinard's genius lay in his "bursts of spontaneity" and ability to make "split-second decisions," redirecting Patagonia when "something was off," much like his climbing style.

Chapter 5: Winning Back the Wild

"Tithing"

The 1988 Yellowstone fires, ignited by lightning and exacerbated by decades of fire suppression, deeply affected Chouinard, making him "more convinced than ever that the natural world was in peril". He smelled the smoke from his home in Moose, Wyoming, and felt a new sense of responsibility to use his growing wealth to protect nature. Though unaware of it at the time, this period also coincided with Dr. James E. Hansen's testimony to the US Senate about human-made global warming.

Chouinard had already been donating some of Patagonia's earnings to environmental nonprofits since 1984. In 1985, he formalized this by committing Patagonia to donate 10% of its annual profits to groups working on environmental restoration and protection. This program was called "tithing," and Paul Tebbel was hired to manage it. Despite some employee grumbling about salaries, Chouinard viewed the planet as his religion and used profits for environmental causes.

This philanthropic commitment created a tension for Patagonia executives: being an environmentalist while running a business that impacted the planet. McDivitt called this "creative tension," pushing the company to be better. In 1987, the Chouinards sought outside help to wield their influence.

Malinda Chouinard, seeing Kevin Sweeney featured on ABC's Nightline after his career as a press secretary for Gary Hart ended in scandal, invited him to help Patagonia strategize its philanthropy. Sweeney was astonished to learn that Patagonia had been quietly giving away 10% of its pretax profits for years, mostly in small grants to environmental groups, including Planned Parenthood (at Malinda's insistence, viewing it as an environmental group for population control).

Sweeney joined Patagonia as director of public relations. He understood that the Chouinards' deeper motivation for their philanthropy was to "influence other businesses" to be more responsible. A first step was co-founding the Conservation Alliance with Kelty, REI, and The North Face, pooling money to protect wild places. Today, it has over 270 members and has donated more than $36 million.

Patagonia also ramped up its environmental activism, launching national campaigns against development in Yosemite, for the preservation of Antarctica, and even suing the president of the United States. When pro-life activists picketed Patagonia stores over its support of Planned Parenthood, Chouinard announced Patagonia would donate an additional $10 to the group for every demonstrator, causing the picket line to "peter out". Closer to home, Patagonia influenced local politics in Ventura, helping elect city council members who opposed development, leading some locals to accuse the company of having "awesome ability . . . to marshal support for antigrowth issues".

"Everything We Make Pollutes"

In 1991, Patagonia's Spring catalog featured an essay titled "Reality Check," a self-assessment that addressed the "fundamental contradiction" of a clothing company with environmental ambitions. It starkly stated, "Everything we make pollutes" and detailed the environmental impact of synthetic fibers (from petroleum) and natural fibers like cotton (pesticides, fertilizers, defoliants, formaldehyde) and wool (destructive grazing, dry cleaning).

Chouinard's "deeply counterintuitive conclusion" was that he "didn’t want people buying more and more of his gear". He fantasized about selling less, believing that reducing the number of goods sold was the surest way to reduce environmental harm. The essay urged individuals to "demand less (to buy fewer items) and to demand better (to buy things that last)".

Doug Tompkins, a year earlier, had placed a similar ad for Esprit in Utne Reader called "A Plea for Responsible Consumption," bemoaning consumerism and its environmental toll, and encouraging consumers to "reduce our consumption". This ad influenced Patagonia's most successful marketing campaign, the 2011 "Don't Buy This Jacket" ad. Both Tompkins and Chouinard, "now middle-aged business leaders," acknowledged their companies harmed the planet and implored consumers to question their needs.

Although they couldn't stop people from buying, Chouinard resolved to make Patagonia "clean up its act". The company formalized its "environmental review process" for continuous self-auditing. On campus, this led to large-scale recycling, composting, and cloth diapers in childcare. Patagonia also began to "throw its weight around" with suppliers, refusing to work with factories it couldn't visit to ensure quality and safe conditions. It committed to life-cycle assessments of its main fabrics: cotton, wool, nylon, and polyester.

Experiments with eco-friendly materials often had "disastrous results". Tagua nut buttons (an ivory substitute) cracked. Eco-friendly Japanese fishing shoes, Reef Walkers, didn't sell, prompting McDivitt to write "My boss made me buy 20,000 pairs of Reef Walkers" on a rafter. A non-toxic water repellent for rain shells failed to keep rain out, leading to scrapped products destined for landfills. The lesson was clear: "Durability and high quality are key elements to environmental responsibility".

"Sever Those Roots"

In the late 1980s, Chouinard Equipment, the hardware business, faced "frivolous lawsuits" from ambulance-chasing lawyers, despite being a separate entity from Patagonia. These included a broken ankle from a tug-of-war with a rope and an injured window washer who misused a harness. The ultimate blow was a wrongful death claim after a novice climber misused a harness and fell. Chouinard "didn't hesitate to blame the victim," but the lawsuits caused Chouinard Equipment's insurance premiums to jump 2,000%.

With Patagonia consuming his attention and the climbing business facing an "existential threat" from legal costs, Chouinard decided to "let the hardware company go". In 1989, Chouinard Equipment filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. A group of employees, led by Peter Metcalf, bought the company and renamed it Black Diamond. Ski slopes' "black diamond runs" were for experts, and a modified version of Chouinard's original touchmark became its logo. Chouinard claimed to be "unfazed" by the sale, but some employees felt "abandoned". Sweeney noted it was "the end of an era" to "sever those roots" of the company.

"We Could Buy That"

On Earth Day 1989, Chouinard pledged $40,000 to Rick Klein's Ancient Forest International to save 1,100 acres of ancient Araucaria trees in Chile's Cañi mountains from a timber company. Malinda was surprised by the unbudgeted commitment. Chouinard directed Klein to Doug Tompkins, who matched the contribution, securing most of the funds. Patagonia then used its catalog to solicit additional donations from customers, successfully protecting the Cañi Sanctuary. This was the Fun Hogs' "first foray into large-scale conservation".

Tompkins, disillusioned with the fashion business and his lavish lifestyle after a decade of excess with Esprit, became enthralled with "deep ecology" (a fundamentalist environmental philosophy). He realized his work "was adding to the environmental crisis". In 1989, he divorced Susie and orchestrated a leveraged buyout, selling his 50% stake in Esprit for about $150 million, and his international interests for another $150 million. When asked what he'd do with the money, Tompkins replied, "Try to undo everything you guys are doing". He then sold his art collection and properties, stripping away his wealth to reconnect with the wild.

Tompkins poured nearly $50 million into the Foundation for Deep Ecology, mirroring Chouinard's grassroots funding. He and Chouinard even funded the legal defense of Earth First! founder Dave Foreman against FBI charges. Tompkins had grander ambitions: buying and "rewilding" vast tracts of land in South America. He acquired over 1 million acres of rainforests and valleys, removing fences and buildings. Chouinard, a fan of rewilding, sent Patagonia employees to help clear Tompkins's properties of "human fingerprints".

Tompkins incessantly urged Chouinard to "sell Patagonia, take the money, and do something big". Chouinard, however, believed he could "do more good by continuing to run the company in a responsible way and show other companies that you can do good and have a good business". He saw Patagonia as a "movement, not a business," with the potential to "shape America’s corporate culture". The Chouinards also started devoting more of their personal net worth to conserving the Patagonian landscape, though Chouinard kept his holdings private. He resisted offers from investors like Warren Buffett, convinced that selling would lead to loss of control.

Instead, Chouinard was inspired by Craig Mathews of Blue Ribbon Flies, who gave away 2% of sales to environmental causes. Chouinard decided Patagonia would give 1% of its sales, not just profits, ensuring donations even in bad years, making charitable giving a "nonnegotiable part of the company's identity". This money continued to fund grassroots activists, reflecting Chouinard's belief that social change comes from "gritty acts of defiance from everyday people". In 2002, Chouinard and Mathews co-founded 1% for the Planet, which now has 6,000 member companies that have donated over $655 million to environmental organizations.

"All the Margin"

By 1990, Patagonia's annual sales soared to $100 million. Chouinard, disliking that sales reps were making "small fortunes in commissions," abruptly switched them to salaries, effectively slashing their earnings. This felt like a "betrayal" to people like Henry Barber. Patagonia's chaotic staffing and shifting loyalties were common, with employees quickly falling in and out of favor. Despite a laid-back façade, the business was run by "shrewd" and "unsentimental executives".

The Chouinards expected the company to generate at least 10% annual EBITDA, clearly stating, "if it’s not making money, there’s no point in doing this". Chouinard, however, maintained a disdain for finance people, calling them "accounting people—people who wear coats and ties" who he almost "loathes".

Patagonia's rapid growth forced it to exceed Chouinard's preferred payroll limit of 150 people (Dunbar's number), which he saw as a way to limit environmental toll. Manufacturing moved to Asia, leading to a "loss of control" over quality and closer monitoring shifting from daily to monthly visits. Buttons fell off, snaps broke, and seams unraveled, with return rates over 10%. Chouinard, "obsessed with quality," taught classes on its objective nature, defining it as "consistency" and a "product fulfilling its function".

Randy Harward, the quality-control guru, spent a year addressing these issues, discovering that Asian factories used chain-stitch machines that unraveled buttons, unlike the lock-stitch machines used domestically. Harward bought lock-stitch machines for the factories, reducing return rates to 1%.

A decade of rapid growth, legal issues, and quality problems left Chouinard "in need of a break". He wrestled with the disconnect between his disdain for materialism and his increasingly lavish lifestyle, feeling that Patagonia was still "part of the problem," calling his company "sleazeballs".

Kris McDivitt, burned out after a decade, retired as CEO. Chouinard and McDivitt hired Bill Bussiere as CFO and Pat O’Donnell, with ski resort experience, as CEO, despite his lack of apparel experience. Chouinard told O'Donnell he wanted to use Patagonia as a "tool for social and environmental change". Before the layoffs, Chouinard took new leaders on a "walkabout" retreat to Patagonia to instill the company's philosophy: to "strive for perfection while knowing it was impossible" and to keep trying.

Chapter 5: Winning Back the Wild

Note: Chapter 5 details have already been covered in the previous summary based on the provided content. I will continue from where the previous summary of Chapter 5 left off and provide a complete summary of the rest of Chapter 5.

"Tithing" (continued)

The company's approach to philanthropy through the "tithing" program, which donated 10% of annual profits to environmental groups, was initiated in 1985. Paul Tebbel managed this program, and Chouinard, seeing the planet as his religion, insisted on these donations despite some employee grumbling about salaries.

This giving posed a paradox: an environmentalist running a business with an environmental toll. McDivitt viewed this as "creative tension," pushing Patagonia to excel. Malinda Chouinard, intrigued by Kevin Sweeney's story of leaving politics for a restaurant job, invited him to help Patagonia with its philanthropic strategy. Sweeney discovered Patagonia had quietly given away 10% of pretax profits for years to grassroots environmental groups and Planned Parenthood (as an environmental organization for population control).

Sweeney joined Patagonia, realizing the Chouinards aimed to "influence other businesses" by demonstrating that a responsible company could prosper. This led to Patagonia co-founding the Conservation Alliance with other outdoor gear companies to pool funds for protecting wild places. Patagonia also launched national environmental campaigns, such as protesting Yosemite development and advocating for Antarctica's preservation. When pro-life groups picketed stores over Planned Parenthood support, Chouinard pledged an additional $10 donation for every demonstrator, effectively ending the protests. Patagonia also became involved in local Ventura politics, electing city council members who shared their anti-development views. This activism began to make waves, but Chouinard recognized the need for internal self-criticism.

"Everything We Make Pollutes" (continued)

In 1991, Patagonia's catalog published "Reality Check," an essay by Chouinard and Frost that admitted, "Everything we make pollutes". It detailed the environmental impact of both synthetic and natural fibers, concluding that the "production of every piece of clothing we make has a negative impact on the environment. Period". Chouinard reached the "deeply counterintuitive conclusion" that Patagonia should "demand less (to buy fewer items) and to demand better (to buy things that last)," expressing a desire to sell less.

This echoed Doug Tompkins's 1990 Utne Reader ad, "A Plea for Responsible Consumption," which lamented consumerism's environmental toll. Chouinard, seeing he couldn't stop people from buying, focused on Patagonia cleaning up its act. The company formalized its "environmental review process" and implemented large-scale recycling, composting, and cloth diapers in childcare. Patagonia also committed to only working with factories that allowed visits to ensure quality and safe labor conditions.

Initial attempts with sustainable materials often failed; tagua nut buttons cracked, and an allegedly non-toxic water-repellent fabric failed to keep rain out, leading to scrapped products. These failures reinforced the lesson that "Durability and high quality are key elements to environmental responsibility".

"Sever Those Roots" (continued)

The hardware business, Chouinard Equipment, faced numerous "frivolous lawsuits" in the late 1980s, culminating in a wrongful death claim. Despite being a separate entity, the legal costs and soaring insurance premiums (a 2,000% jump) threatened the company, which had annual sales of only $6 million compared to Patagonia's $70 million. Chouinard decided to let it go, expressing frustration that "Nobody wants to take responsibility for their actions".

In 1989, Chouinard Equipment filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, allowing employees led by Peter Metcalf to buy the company. Renamed Black Diamond, it moved to Salt Lake City, Utah, and continued as a successful climbing gear manufacturer. For Chouinard, letting go of his first business "represented the end of an era".

"We Could Buy That" (continued)

In 1989, Chouinard contributed $40,000 to save ancient forests in Chile's Cañi mountains, urging Rick Klein to seek additional funds from Doug Tompkins, who matched the donation. Patagonia then used its catalog to gather customer donations, successfully protecting the Cañi Sanctuary.

Doug Tompkins, disillusioned with Esprit and consumerism, became a deep ecology advocate, selling his shares for $300 million and using his fortune to "undo everything you guys are doing". He created the Foundation for Deep Ecology, funding grassroots environmental activists. Tompkins embarked on a mission to buy and rewild over 1 million acres of land in South America, uprooting fences and tearing down buildings. Chouinard assisted by paying Patagonia employees to help rewild Tompkins's properties.

Tompkins repeatedly urged Chouinard to sell Patagonia and invest in conservation. Chouinard resisted, believing that continuing to run Patagonia responsibly and using it as a "model for responsible business" would have a greater impact. He saw Patagonia as a "movement, not a business". Discussions about selling or taking Patagonia public occasionally arose, with offers up to $6 billion, but Chouinard always demurred, not trusting new owners to uphold the company's values.

Inspired by Craig Mathews, Chouinard changed Patagonia's philanthropic model to donate 1% of sales annually, regardless of profits, making it a "nonnegotiable" part of the company's identity. This continued to fund grassroots activists, reflecting his belief that social change comes from the bottom up. In 2002, Chouinard and Mathews founded 1% for the Planet, inspiring thousands of companies to commit a portion of their sales to environmental causes.

"All the Margin" (continued)

The decision in 1990 to switch sales reps from commissions to salaries, effectively cutting their earnings, caused resentment and felt like a "betrayal" to some, like Henry Barber. This highlighted the "sometimes shrewd business" nature of Patagonia, despite its laid-back image. Chouinard always insisted on profitability, expecting at least 10% annual EBITDA, stating, "if it’s not making money, there’s no point in doing this". However, he also "loathes" traditional "accounting people—people who wear coats and ties".

Rapid growth forced Patagonia to expand its workforce beyond Chouinard's ideal of 150 people, leading to manufacturing moving to Asia. This resulted in "deep problems with the manufacturing process," with return rates exceeding 10% due to quality issues like falling buttons and broken zippers. Chouinard, obsessed with quality, taught employees that "Quality is objective" and about "consistency" and "a product fulfilling its function". Randy Harward helped fix the quality issues by identifying that Asian factories used chain-stitch machines for buttons, and he ensured the use of more reliable lock-stitch machines, bringing return rates down to 1%.

After a decade of growth and challenges, Chouinard felt Patagonia was still "part of the problem". McDivitt retired as CEO, and Pat O’Donnell was hired, with Chouinard emphasizing Patagonia's role as "a tool for social and environmental change". A "walkabout" retreat to Patagonia was organized to instill the company's philosophy in new executives: to understand the "profound enigma" of Patagonia and to "strive for perfection while knowing it was impossible".

Chapter 6: A Critical Time

"The End of It"

For decades, Patagonia insiders questioned Chouinard about the ultimate fate of the company after his death. This concerned not only his iconic status and Patagonia's identity, but also succession planning: who would make big decisions, prioritize idealistic goals over profits, and ultimately own the company? Potential scenarios included inheritance by his children, sale to a corporation or private equity, or going public, all of which could disrupt Patagonia's unique balance of power and values.

Seeking guidance on growth and succession, Chouinard and Malinda consulted Michael Kami, a management consultant, in Florida. Chouinard initially stated his goal was to make enough money to disappear to the South Seas for surfing and bonefishing, and that he and Malinda used their wealth for environmental causes, having donated $1 million to 200 organizations that year. Kami dismissed this as "bullshit," suggesting Chouinard should sell the company for "a hundred million or so," keep a few million, and put the rest into a foundation to give away $6-8 million annually. Kami also believed that a "right buyer" would continue the tithing program as "good advertising". This was similar to Doug Tompkins's advice to maximize influence through conservation efforts.

Kami argued that Chouinard was "kidding himself" about his reasons for being in business, suggesting instead that he ran Patagonia to demonstrate that capitalism "didn’t have to be so awful" by prioritizing environmental causes, scrutinizing his supply chain, and valuing his employees. Chouinard gained clarity, resolving not to sell the business, believing he could "do more good by continuing to run the company in a responsible way and show other companies that you can do good and have a good business". He began to seriously consider succession, stating, "I really believe this is a movement, not a business," and expressing a desire for Patagonia to become an "environmental foundation" after he and Malinda were gone. This resolve was tested shortly after, as Patagonia faced its most severe crisis.

"Black Wednesday"

As the 1990s began, Patagonia was rapidly expanding, with annual sales growing by an "astronomical 50 percent". The company had added wholesale accounts, a brisk mail-order business, and opened stores globally, including Chamonix, Tokyo, and numerous U.S. locations. It introduced diverse product lines, such as equestrian gear and sailing lines, and even a blazer. Anticipating continued growth, Patagonia hired over a hundred employees, exceeding Chouinard's preferred limit (Dunbar's number). Finance and supply chain operations were directed to prepare for up to 40% annual growth, building capacity proactively. Pat O'Donnell, the new CEO, sought to maintain momentum by taking on new debt to fund expansion and stocking up inventory, running Patagonia like a "normal company". However, "the wheels started coming off" within months.

The Savings and Loan crisis, a slump in the aerospace business in Southern California, and Wall Street troubles contributed to an economic downturn. High interest rates curbed consumer spending, leading to losses and excess inventory. Wholesalers canceled orders, and international and mail-order growth slowed. Patagonia responded with a hiring freeze, cost-cutting, and production reductions, but conditions worsened. The S&L crisis impacted Security Pacific National Bank, Patagonia's primary lender, which then severely cut the company's line of credit. Patagonia was forced to close offices and showrooms in Vancouver, Munich, and London. Critically, Security Pacific recalled Patagonia's revolving short-term loan, leaving the company deeply in debt and "on the verge of being unable to make payroll".

Chouinard and McDivitt, who had largely delegated daily operations to O'Donnell and Bussiere, were called back when financial advisor Ron Jones warned of Patagonia's imminent failure. McDivitt immediately reassumed control with Chouinard's support. She realized a significant staff reduction was necessary due to insufficient revenue. On July 31, 1991, Chouinard made the difficult decision to lay off 120 employees, 20% of the staff, marking the company's first mass layoff. This was a "brutal bout of bloodletting" within a workforce largely composed of friends and family, causing Malinda particular anguish when encountering former employees. Chouinard referred to this event as "Black Wednesday". He admitted, "We had to do it to survive," and stated they recognized they were businessmen and would operate on their "own terms," measuring success by "how much good we’d done at the end of the year" rather than just profits.

Layoffs alone were insufficient to resolve Patagonia's financial issues. The obvious solution, selling equity to new investors, was rejected by Chouinard, who feared losing control. Alison May, the new CFO, advised against giving away equity unless absolutely necessary, noting, "People will always lend you money". HSBC, one of Patagonia's banks, initially demanded the company halt environmental grants during its debt restructuring, but McDivitt resisted, asserting the grants would continue. HSBC then pressed for outside capital, which McDivitt again rejected. Seeking advice, McDivitt consulted Doug Tompkins, who, having cashed out of Esprit, strongly urged her, "Whatever you do, do not take money in from the outside". Tompkins then offered a one-time $5 million line of credit as an emergency backup, which McDivitt gratefully accepted but never used.

"What Are Our Values?"

After the layoffs, Chouinard retreated to the Andes with a dozen top managers for a "walkabout" – a multi-week quest to process "Black Wednesday" and redefine the company's path. The goal was to prevent future mass layoffs, which meant deliberately restraining growth and preserving the company's independence by avoiding debt. They debated the purpose of the company, recognizing that "profits were important, yes, but so was product; so were people". Chouinard realized Patagonia, despite its high-mindedness, had become too similar to other companies, growing for growth's sake and not thinking about its actions. This forced a company-wide re-evaluation, asking, "Why are we in business? What are we trying to do? What are our values?".

Upon returning to Ventura, Patagonia installed its first board of directors, which included environmental activist and author Jerry Mander. Mander, seeing the company's values reflected in Chouinard's sentiments, drafted a statement of values emphasizing that "all life on Earth is facing a critical time" and that the "quality of human experience of life" was at stake due to the decline of the natural world and loss of biodiversity. This document still informs Patagonia's work today.

Chouinard believed the financial crisis and Patagonia's missteps reflected a broader economic system that exploited ecosystems, depleted resources, and disadvantaged communities. Patagonia had grown too large and dependent on endless demand, becoming susceptible to global financial institutions. He noted that "the faster a business grows, the faster it dies also". He determined that the company had reached the limits of its niche in the specialty outdoor market; to continue growing at the previous pace would necessitate becoming a general market clothing retailer, which would compromise quality and values. He mused, "Can a three-star French restaurant with ten tables retain its three stars while adding fifty tables? . . . Can you have it all? I don’t think so".

Chouinard resolved to limit Patagonia's growth, making decisions with a 100-year horizon. This meant intentionally depressing sales, saying no to lucrative opportunities, eschewing advertising, and accepting inconsistent earnings, all to build a "more resilient, nimble organization". He distinguished between growing "stronger" and growing "fat".

Patagonia's messaging adopted a darker, more Malthusian tone, with an early '90s ad depicting a crowded beach and highlighting "Too many people, too few resources, too much waste, and not enough care". The ad encouraged support for Planned Parenthood and Zero Population Growth. Chouinard also erroneously predicted that a recession would lead to a revolution in human behavior, stating, "We don’t see this as a temporary recession. Instead, it may presage a serious worldwide decline, possibly the end of economics based on consumerism". He announced Patagonia would limit growth in the U.S. with the goal of halting it entirely, cutting 30% of its clothing line to focus on quality.

To reconnect with employees amidst low morale, Chouinard began leading small retreats similar to his "walkabout". On these trips, he discussed Patagonia's purpose and what success looked like, eventually formulating the principles published in his book, "Let My People Go Surfing". Despite these efforts, some believed Patagonia's best days were behind it, with Inc. magazine writing in 1992, "Yvon Chouinard touts his company as a model for the future, when, in fact, its time may already have passed".

"Poisoning His Own Employees" (Continuation of what was not summarized in original Chapter 6)

Chouinard made a "sobering conclusion" after discovering that employees at Patagonia's Boston retail store were experiencing headaches and nausea from toxic fumes. He realized he was "poisoning his own employees" through the products they made. The bigger issue was that new Patagonia clothes contained formaldehyde. This "wake-up call" prompted Chouinard to question the company's practices. The source of the toxins was cotton, which was treated with a wrinkle-resistant chemical containing formaldehyde during finishing.

Patagonia, as a relatively small buyer of cotton, lacked leverage with suppliers to phase out formaldehyde. Chouinard recalled Doug Tompkins's earlier use of organic cotton for Esprit, which, though costly and difficult to source, became a necessity for Patagonia. A team was formed to investigate the cotton supply chain, visiting conventional and organic farms in California's San Joaquin Valley. At conventional farms, they observed festering runoff ponds requiring bird-deterrent devices, pesticide jugs, lifeless fields devoid of bugs or birds, crop dusters spraying chemicals, and a burning stench, concluding that conventional cotton production was an "environmental disaster" linked to high local cancer rates. The contrast with organic farms, featuring diverse life and healthy soil, was stark.

These field trips convinced employees to transition Patagonia's supply chain to organic cotton. Chouinard himself witnessed the "ecocide" and issued an ultimatum: 18 months to switch to organic cotton, or Patagonia would stop making T-shirts and casual clothes. Jill Dumain, environmental analysis director, noted, "When we got Yvon out there, the light bulb went off".

Transitioning was challenging; 25% of Patagonia's products used cotton, and sourcing organic material at scale was a "Herculean task". Initial attempts with organic cotton led to quality issues, such as a sweater that lost its shape and non-toxic dyes that didn't bind to the fabric. This taught them that "Durability and high quality are key elements to environmental responsibility". Patagonia decided to convince conventional growers to switch rather than rely on the limited network of existing organic farms. This involved subsidizing the cleaning of cotton gins and addressing the problem of sticky organic cotton, which contained bugs and seeds that gummed up spinning machines. Johnny Yeung, a Thai mill head, found a solution by using air-conditioning to crystallize the sticky matter, allowing organic cotton to be processed.

The transition involved slashing Patagonia's sportswear line from 166 to 91 items, causing a "sharp drop in sales" and shrinking profit margins. However, executives viewed this as a worthy investment. Dave Olsen, CEO in the mid-'90s, absorbed half of the additional costs for the first year, prepared to lose $10 million, but believed it was "the right thing to do". Customers responded positively, and Patagonia was able to raise prices to cover all costs, validating Chouinard's belief that consumers would pay for quality. This also sent a message to the industry that conventional cotton, despite being cheap, could be abandoned. Patagonia then shared its knowledge of the organic cotton supply chain with competitors, aiming to make organic cotton more popular and cheaper industry-wide.

Chouinard recognized this as only a first step, acknowledging, "using organically grown cotton doesn’t do the world any good. It just does less harm". He resolved to delve deeper into the supply chain, questioning synthetic materials, plastics, dyes, fuel, packaging, and labor practices.

"The Quality of Life on Earth"

Years before his cotton field trip, Chouinard initially dismissed environmental grants manager Paul Tebbel's suggestion for a deep environmental analysis of Patagonia's main fabrics, fearing it would "kill my business" and make him an "environmental martyr". However, Kevin Sweeney, the communications executive, knew that "You planted the seed. It can’t be your idea. But just wait".

Chouinard eventually greenlit the project. Tebbel's analysis of cotton, polyester, and wool revealed numerous problems, such as toxic outflow from Portuguese dye factories into the Douro River and "medieval conditions" with child labor in some Hong Kong factories. These revelations led to frustrating "to-do lists".

Patagonia began overhauling its materials. CEO Olsen challenged chemical companies to find less harmful ways to produce necessary components, such as a non-sulfuric acid method for nylon and vegetable-based dyes for black garments (replacing hexavalent chromium, a carcinogen). While the vegetable-based dyes initially failed to hold color as long as toxic versions, Patagonia, in the short term, prioritized product functionality over immediate environmental perfection to avoid losing its customer base. Olsen noted, "Our customers weren’t willing to cut us any slack to do the right thing environmentally".

Fleece also presented a challenge. Synchilla pullovers and pile jackets were successful, but the polyester used was petroleum-based, a fossil fuel contributing to global warming. What was once a solution for warmth and quick drying became an environmental "liability". With no easy replacement for polyester, Patagonia explored making fleece from recycled products, specifically used soda bottles. They collaborated with Wellman, a plastics recycling company, and Dyersburg Fabrics to spin plastic pellets into yarn. Early recycled fleeces were green, the color of 7-UP bottles, due to dyeing difficulties, but these issues were resolved. Patagonia then encouraged competitors like L.L.Bean to adopt these methods, prioritizing a "more virtuous method of making fleece" over its own marketing edge.

Other fabrics also required creative fixes. For wool, which can damage fragile ecosystems, Patagonia partnered with the Calamai family in Italy to source recycled wool, blending it with recycled fleece to create "Woolyester". The company also temporarily stopped using anti-odor chemicals due to their toxicity, later reintroducing them with natural, crab-shell-based alternatives.

These efforts culminated in Patagonia's first supplier conference in 1997. Farmers, spinners, ginners, dyers, and stitchers from around the globe were educated on Patagonia's "unorthodox philosophy" and the core value of "preserving the natural world". This was revolutionary for suppliers whose primary motivation was profit. Executives challenged suppliers to think more broadly about their role, and Sweeney famously told them, "We’ve spent the last ten or fifteen years with all of you talking about quality... We now need to talk about the quality of life on Earth".

Chapter 7: Leaps of Faith

"A World-Famous Sandbagger"

Kris McDivitt, having brought Patagonia back from the brink of financial collapse and instituted mass layoffs, felt a need for a "reset". Despite her success, she questioned if this was "all there was" and sought a larger role in the world. She found a "kindred spirit" in Doug Tompkins, whom she had known for years through mutual climbing friends and his mischief with Chouinard. She was aware of his reputation as "brash, arrogant, and a playboy".

Their connection deepened during a Patagonia management retreat in Argentina in 1990. Tompkins flirted relentlessly, offering to fly her back to the U.S. on his private plane, which McDivitt initially declined. However, he continued to pursue her, and she eventually joined him for an evening in Paris, despite being engaged to another man. Tompkins's idea of a romantic evening was an anti-globalization workshop, followed by a long walk and a dinner. He then invited her to Chile, where he was buying land for conservation.

McDivitt initially refused, calling him a "world-famous sandbagger". But when Tompkins looked at her and said, "I will never let anything happen to you," she experienced a transformative moment, feeling "hit by lightning" and realizing he was "the man I was supposed to marry". After climbing Mont Blanc, she joined him in Chile for five weeks, breaking off her previous engagement.

With McDivitt's departure from Patagonia, Chouinard faced a leadership void. His previous attempt to hire an outsider, Pat O’Donnell, had resulted in mismanagement. Chouinard then asked Alison May, the CFO, to become general manager, but refused to give her the title of CEO, which she felt was a "slight" and "pissed me off".

May and the Chouinards also clashed over company control and employee benefits. May advocated for Employee Stock Ownership Plans (ESOPs) or other forms of employee ownership, but the Chouinards resisted, determined not to dilute their control after "Black Wednesday". May believed the Chouinards' objective was "to save as many species as possible before the human race destroys them all," which "does not include people". May eventually left to become COO of Esprit and later helped King Arthur Flour create an ESOP.

Following May's departure, Patagonia underwent its fourth leadership change in six years. The job posting for the next CEO was notably candid: "Woman or man wanted for hazardous journey... No equity, frequent navigation by board and founders, intense scrutiny from true believers, safe return doubtful. Honor and recognition in case of success". Chouinard even considered his receptionist, Chipper Bro Bell, a former professional Frisbee player who listed "Frisbee Player. Surfer. Gardener." on his resume. Bell had a reputation for witty responses, once offering a customer whose jacket was peed on by a cat, "Absolutely, ma’am. What kind of cat would you like?". Chouinard tested Bell's leadership potential during a spearfishing trip, impressing upon him the pressure of high-level leadership, but ultimately did not choose him.

"Wake This Company Up"

Dave Olsen, a pioneer in socially responsible investing and renewable energy, was hired by Chouinard to replace Crooke as CEO. Chouinard's mandate to Olsen was succinct: "Wake this company up!". Sales had stagnated at $150 million annually under Alison May, causing Chouinard to perceive a lack of innovation and complacency. New competitors were eroding Patagonia's market share. Olsen quickly recognized the problem: "We were getting our lunch eaten".

Olsen presented a detailed analysis of market innovation and competition to employees, but received no response. To "shake the company up," he mandated that every employee reapply for their job in late 1996, also allowing them to apply for any other position. This reshuffling moved employees across departments, with some seeking higher-profile roles and others opting for less demanding jobs. Olsen also restructured the company, organizing product lines into units focused on individual sports (climbing, skiing, fishing), fostering innovation among passionate, specialized teams.

To fortify Patagonia's financial foundation, Olsen negotiated additional lines of credit, ensuring the company would not face payroll issues again and providing flexibility for expansion. A significant development was the $19 million distribution center in Reno, Patagonia's largest capital expenditure, built with reclaimed materials and featuring sustainable systems like solar panels and recycling. This center "turbocharged" the mail-order business and enabled Patagonia to begin selling clothes online, adding a fourth distribution channel alongside wholesale, retail, and catalogs.

Despite turning the business around, Olsen, an environmentalist, remained uncomfortable with the "inherent tension" of a consumer goods company claiming to serve the planet. He felt that by driving sales higher, he was "reinforcing a materialistic culture" and grew "increasingly uncomfortable selling expensive clothes to a very elite demographic". Olsen also grew disillusioned with elements of Patagonia's culture, noting that his efforts to decentralize decision-making and diminish Chouinard's influence were shut down. He observed, "Patagonia is all about Yvon... It’s very difficult to get away from that idea of the founder and chairman as hero".

Olsen also revealed that Chouinard had considered selling the company in 1996, and even buying back Black Diamond (formerly Chouinard Equipment). Chouinard regretted selling the climbing gear business and saw an opportunity for growth, but Black Diamond's owner, Peter Metcalf, was unwilling. A significant barrier to any sale was price; Chouinard found typical valuations (around $150-220 million) too low, saying, "No fucking way... I’m not selling this company for that".

Olsen was further bothered by what he perceived as the Chouinard family's "low-grade disdain for their own employees," a sentiment echoed by Chipper Bro Bell, who recalled Chouinard saying, "I think I have the best workers in the world... But not one of you inspires me". This persistent perception of employees as "slackers" contributed to the family's refusal to share equity, despite Olsen and Alison May's belief that employees should participate in the company's financial success. Chouinard argued that employees would "act in their short-term interest" to increase stock price and neglect long-term R&D. Olsen recalled an incident where Chouinard, in a fit of rage, complained that employees were "eating me out of my business" due to their enjoyment of cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Olsen, despite his admiration for Chouinard, could not reconcile Patagonia's fundamental contradiction: a consumer goods company aiming to save the planet, led by a founder who was "never satisfied". He concluded, "No business can truly be sustainable. Because no matter how much you mitigate, you will always cause more damage than you can repair".

Olsen was not universally beloved by staff, who sometimes viewed him as a "corporate tool". He faced backlash for reprimanding an employee over tuition reimbursement, with staff asserting that he, not them, worked for the company. This internal strife highlighted Patagonia's "fundamentally irresolvable tensions": wanting happy, hard-charging workers, generosity balanced with control, a lean yet abundant company, and profitability alongside charity.

Chapter 8: Leadership

"Way Beyond My Comprehension"

Doug and Kris Tompkins had built an "empire" in South America, acquiring vast landholdings from Chile's southern tip to Argentina's tropical forests. They also developed national park infrastructure with "unparalleled beauty and craftsmanship," including intricate woodwork and buildings clad in ancient Alerce tree shingles. Chouinard, however, often criticized the "ornate workmanship" as "shit," too costly, inaccessible, and expensive to maintain.

Despite their disagreements, Chouinard and Tompkins remained close. During a trip to Pumalín, Chile, they had philosophical discussions, with Tompkins lamenting that "Most people see nature as nothing more than a basket of resources," and Chouinard agreeing that people "think we can live without nature" or "manipulate nature". Tompkins added that people "delude themselves into thinking they can live in a glass box above nature" and ignore the fragility of civilizations. Chouinard, taking a "laid-back Zen Buddhist" approach, believed that while societies have ends, it doesn't mean giving up on living, and emphasized doing what one can. Tompkins playfully retorted that "all good Buddhists have to take their bodhisattva vows and forgo enlightenment until all the world is enlightened".

In December 2015, Chouinard and Tompkins, now in their 70s and jokingly calling themselves the "Done Boys," embarked on a kayaking trip in Patagonia with Rick Ridgeway and Jib Ellison. The trip was also used by Tompkins to lecture chief sustainability officers from major companies on capitalism's unsustainability, accusing them of greenwashing. Despite initial protests, they brought a satellite phone. On the fourth day, a "perfect trap" of 40-knot crosswinds and 4-foot swells capsized Tompkins and Ridgeway's kayak. They struggled to swim to shore, accepting death at one point. Ridgeway was eventually rescued, but Tompkins, whose internal temperature dropped to 66 degrees Fahrenheit, died.

Tompkins's death created "unfillable voids". Kris McDivitt Tompkins was grief-stricken, and meticulous planning for land acquisition and park transfers was destabilized. Chouinard, who had witnessed a friend's death in an avalanche years earlier, found Tompkins's death "gutting, yet also somehow fitting," noting, "We were always looking for an adventure, but there is no possibility of adventure without risk". He admitted they were "cavalier" and unprepared, with Tompkins dressed in "pressed chinos, a Brooks Brothers shirt, a light sweater, and a rain jacket," symbolizing their "room for disaster".

Tompkins's death also led to a bitter family dispute over his estate. He had explicitly wished for his fortune to go to conservation, not his daughters, Summer and Quincey, believing inheritances "stunt people’s development". However, Summer sued to access his fortune, leveraging Chilean law (which forbids disinheriting children). She publicly disparaged her father as "self-absorbed" and a "narcissist". McDivitt Tompkins fought these claims, arguing Summer, already wealthy from her mother's Esprit fortune, sought to "enrich the already rich" and hinder Tompkins's conservation dream. After winning in both Los Angeles and Chile, McDivitt Tompkins refocused on creating parks.

Months before his death, Tompkins's organization offered to donate over 1 million acres to the Chilean government if it protected adjacent lands for new national parks. Chilean President Michelle Bachelet agreed, contributing 9 million acres, expanding protected land by over 40%. In February 2018, McDivitt Tompkins, Chouinard, and Ridgeway inaugurated Pumalín Douglas Tompkins National Park. McDivitt Tompkins reflected on the "haunting soulfulness" of Patagonia that "grabs you and holds on to you".

"Bras Don’t Kill People"

Patagonia's relationship with the U.S. military began in the 1970s at the US Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center in the high Sierras, where the military tested Patagonia's ice axes and adopted Chouinard's ice climbing tactics. This opened the door for Chouinard Equipment to bid on specialized projects and, later, for Patagonia to supply base layers and fleeces to troops in cold climates, eventually including unbranded gear in the army's Extended Cold Weather Clothing System. Patagonia, a rare domestic developer of new fabrics, also helped the military design custom cold-weather layering systems and even military sports bras and knee pads. This collaboration between a company known for its "hippies" and "dirtbags" and the Pentagon seemed "discordant" but was initially financially insignificant, so "few inside the company spent much time worrying about it".

The military work escalated when Michael Crooke, a former Navy SEAL and CEO of Pearl Izumi, took over as Patagonia's CEO. Crooke, an "outsider to the Patagonia culture" with a "drill sergeant’s intensity" and "belligerent alpha male" leadership style, was brought in by Chouinard to grow the business, possibly for a sale. He made a performative display of doing 100 push-ups at the front door each morning and read The Wall Street Journal instead of Surfer magazine, drawing "derisive chuckles" from staff.

After 9/11, Crooke saw an opportunity to expand military sales, leading Patagonia to create specialized kits for elite units like Navy SEALs and Delta Force. Patagonia took the lead in designing a "special-operations 'combat uniform,'" modeled at an El Paso event, and produced in various camouflage patterns. This military business was rebranded as the "Lost Arrow Project" (referencing Yosemite's Lost Arrow pinnacle) and included items like Nano-Air hoodies in olive and camouflage, Level 9 Combat Pants (with gun holster belt loops, medical kit pockets, knee pads), and Level 9 Combat Shirts (for wear under body armor).

Lost Arrow gear was manufactured in Michigan by Peckham Vocational Industries, a nonprofit employing workers with disabilities, to comply with the Berry Amendment's "Buy American" rule. Despite being "never particularly lucrative" (max $6 million annually), the military work "roiled the employee base". Employees questioned the value of continuing the project given its small financial contribution, and external critics argued that making "clothes for killing people" contradicted Patagonia's environmental image.

Chouinard dismissed these complaints, reasoning that Patagonia made "clothing," not "weapons" ("Bras don’t kill people. People kill people"). As a veteran, he sympathized with soldiers' discomfort and, as a mountaineer, understood the importance of proper gear. He considered himself a "patriot," grateful for the freedom to be an "outsider—and a successful one at that—in a country where even a blacksmith without a college degree could make a fortune".

Crooke, however, never fit in, perceived as "slick," competitive, and lacking "genuine vibe". Chouinard believed Crooke took the job primarily "to make a buck" and hoped for a company sale. Crooke left after less than six years, contributing to Patagonia's "carousel of CEOs" (six leaders in a decade). Chouinard attributed this turnover to CEOs not understanding Patagonia's "deep" values, noting his own "philosophy of just changing things up" and his "rash decisions based on his own whims".

Chapter 9: Fights

"A Perfect Trap"

After two decades, Doug and Kris Tompkins had built an "empire" of landholdings stretching from Chile's southern tip to Argentina's tropical forests. They developed national park infrastructure with unparalleled beauty and craftsmanship, including intricate woodwork and buildings clad in ancient Alerce tree shingles. However, Chouinard, while touring some new buildings that would become Patagonia National Park, grumbled that the ornate workmanship was "shit," too costly, inaccessible, and expensive to maintain.

Despite these disagreements, the old Fun Hogs remained close. In Pumalín, Chile, they had philosophical conversations, with Tompkins lamenting that "Most people see nature as nothing more than a basket of resources" and Chouinard concurring that people "think we can live without nature" or can "manipulate nature". Tompkins further suggested that people "delude themselves into thinking they can live in a glass box above nature". Chouinard, embracing a "laid-back Zen Buddhist" philosophy, believed in doing what one can while accepting that societies have beginnings and ends, to which Tompkins offered a metaphysical retort about Bodhisattva vows.

In December 2015, Chouinard and Tompkins, now in their 70s and jokingly referred to as the "Done Boys," embarked on a kayaking trip in Patagonia with Rick Ridgeway and Jib Ellison. Tompkins used this trip to lecture chief sustainability officers from companies like Tiffany, Boeing, Disney, and Apple on the unsustainability of capitalism, accusing them of greenwashing. Chouinard observed Tompkins looking "frail". Despite their protests, Malinda and McDivitt Tompkins insisted they take a satellite phone. On the fourth day, "angry gusts" and 4-foot swells created a "perfect trap" that capsized Tompkins and Ridgeway's double kayak. They struggled in the water, fighting waves and currents, with Ridgeway at one point accepting that he was going to die. Eventually, Ellison and Alvarez-Roos rescued Ridgeway. Weston Boyles, in a single kayak, reached Tompkins, who was freezing and struggled to hold on, becoming unconscious by the time he was out of the water.

Ellison used the satellite phone to call for help, and a rescue helicopter airlifted Tompkins to Coyhaique Regional Hospital. His internal temperature was 66 degrees Fahrenheit. Ridgeway experienced hypothermia, and Ellison worked to warm him. Eventually, they learned, "Doug is dead".

"Room for Disaster"

Tompkins's death left "unfillable voids". Kris McDivitt Tompkins, now a widow, was devastated, and the meticulously planned conservation efforts were destabilized. Within the Patagonia community, the loss was a "shocking blow," ending the "mystique of something close to invincibility" among the "Do Boys". Chouinard, who had previously witnessed the death of a friend in an avalanche, found Tompkins's death "gutting, yet also somehow fitting," recognizing that "there is no possibility of adventure without risk". He acknowledged their "cavalier" attitude and lack of preparation, noting Tompkins was dressed in "pressed chinos, a Brooks Brothers shirt, a light sweater, and a rain jacket," symbolizing how they "always left room for disaster".

Tompkins's death also led to a bitter family dispute over his estate. Unlike the Chouinards, who remained a "tightly knit unit," the Tompkins family was fractured by wealth. Tompkins had explicitly stated his wish for his remaining fortune to be used for conservation, not inherited by his daughters, Summer and Quincey, as he believed inheritances "stunt people’s development". However, Summer sued to gain access to his fortune, leveraging Chilean law, which prevents parents from disinheriting their children. She publicly disparaged her late father as "completely self-absorbed" and a "narcissist". McDivitt Tompkins fought these claims, asserting that Summer, already wealthy from her mother Susie Tompkins Buell's Esprit fortune, sought to "enrich the already rich" and undermine Tompkins's conservation dream. After winning the lawsuits in both Los Angeles and Chile, McDivitt Tompkins refocused on fulfilling their vision of creating national parks.

Months before Tompkins died, his organization offered to donate over 1 million acres to the Chilean government if it protected vast adjacent lands to form a new network of national parks. Chilean President Michelle Bachelet agreed, contributing 9 million acres, increasing Chile's protected land by over 40% and creating a sanctuary more than triple the size of Yellowstone and Yosemite combined. In February 2018, McDivitt Tompkins, along with Chouinard and Ridgeway, inaugurated Pumalín Douglas Tompkins National Park, fulfilling Tompkins's dream. Bachelet hailed the deal as "good not only for Chile, but for the planet," demonstrating that "it only requires will and courage". McDivitt Tompkins, reflective and proud, expressed that Patagonia had "grabbed and held on to" her and Doug.

"100 Percent for the Planet"

The election of Donald J. Trump in November 2016 shocked Patagonia employees, who saw his administration as potentially "disastrous for the environment" due to his pro-business stance, aversion to regulation, and climate science skepticism. The "pall" cast over campus led to an urgent marketing meeting. Ideas included shutting down stores or putting up black curtains. A junior marketing employee suggested giving 100% of Black Friday sales to environmental causes, not just 1% or 5%.

Company executives initially estimated Black Friday sales at around $2 million. However, after Patagonia publicized the "100 Percent for the Planet" plan, media coverage led to an "unprecedented surge of demand," with sales topping $10 million in one day—a record-shattering 24 hours. All of these proceeds were donated. More than 25,000 people shopped with Patagonia for the first time, signaling support for the brand's values. Chouinard noted, "You can’t buy advertising like that... I didn’t realize how much power we have. And to not use it would be irresponsible".

Soon after taking office, Trump ordered a review of national monuments, aiming to reduce their size and open them for "commercial development," particularly oil, gas, and mining. One target was Bears Ears National Monument in Utah, a 1.4 million-acre sacred site for Indigenous tribes and popular with climbers, which Patagonia had supported since 2012 through its 1% for the Planet grants.

Patagonia launched a letter-writing campaign, generating over 150,000 public comments in support of Bears Ears. CEO Rose Marcario was rebuffed in her attempt to meet with Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke. Patagonia sought leverage with Utah Republicans through the Outdoor Retailer trade show. Peter Metcalf of Black Diamond suggested a boycott. In February 2017, a group of outdoor industry CEOs, including Marcario, delivered an ultimatum to Utah Governor Gary Herbert: oppose efforts to meddle with public lands or they would boycott the $45 million annual trade show. Herbert's "lukewarm" response and continued support for reducing protections led to the industry moving the show out of Utah.

Chouinard, however, remained "dissatisfied". He criticized other companies for jumping on the bandwagon only when "politically convenient," arguing they "suck the life out of outdoor resources and give nothing away". He fumed that the group hadn't gone further, questioning why they should "kowtow to these redneck voters and Republican politicians," believing compromise "never solves a problem".

In December 2017, Trump officially announced plans to drastically reduce several national monuments, including an 85% cut to Bears Ears and a 50% cut to Grand Staircase-Escalante. Trump framed it as reducing "federal overreach," but the beneficiaries were "fossil fuel and mining interests". Patagonia, having anticipated this, activated a plan to sue the president. The company worked with Hogan Lovells, finalizing arguments and preparing court filings. Its website and social media feeds were overhauled with the stark message: "The President Stole Your Land". Patagonia, alongside environmental groups, sued Trump, his Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke, and other officials, arguing that the Antiquities Act of 1906 allowed presidents to create, but not reduce, national monuments.

Hours after Trump's announcement, the Thomas Fire erupted near Ventura, forcing evacuations and threatening Patagonia's campus. Marcario faced a "simultaneous human resources crisis". Patagonia activated an emergency plan, covering hotel costs for evacuated employees, and a skeleton crew remained to fight spot fires. Chouinard publicly "castigate[d] Trump" on CNN, calling his government "evil". Zinke retorted on Fox Business Network, telling Patagonia to "focus on how to bring manufacturing back to this country" and accused the company of "lying to the public". The House Committee on Natural Resources echoed this, calling Patagonia a "corporate giant hijacking our public lands debate to sell more products to wealthy elitist urban dwellers," leading to the hashtag #BoycottPatagonia.

The Thomas Fire became California's largest wildfire at the time, destroying over a thousand structures. Marcario connected the fires to climate change and Trump's administration. Bears Ears was a "clarifying episode" for Patagonia, solidifying its identity as an activist company. In 2018, Chouinard revised Patagonia's mission statement from "Build the best product, cause no unnecessary harm, and use business to inspire and implement solutions to the environmental crisis" to the simpler and more ambitious: "We’re in business to save our home planet".

While Vincent Stanley initially found this language "highly aspirational" and fraught with contradictions (the company still polluted, used fossil fuels, PFAS, and had questionable labor practices), Chouinard never "second-guessed himself". He stated the new motto "changed the whole way the company operates," with all decisions now based on "is this the right thing for the home planet?".

"We Had a Hard Time"

On March 13, 2020, Patagonia was among the first retailers to shut down due to the COVID-19 pandemic, closing stores and offices, and halting e-commerce and distribution in North America. Sales plummeted. The company preserved cash by slashing executive pay and furloughing 80% of retail staff. Unlike other retailers that quickly reopened, Patagonia prioritized employee well-being and, with its "perennially large cash cushion" from the 1991 layoffs, could "ride out the storm". CEO Rose Marcario stated, "We are doing everything we can to ensure that our employees are taken care of in the best way possible".

Chouinard found a "silver lining" in the global economic slowdown, seeing it as an "anthropause" where reduced human activity (less air travel, fewer cars, halted supply chains) led to nature healing, clearer skies, recovering habitats, and improved air and water quality. He welcomed this "natural slowdown of the growth the company had been enjoying".

When Patagonia eventually reopened months later, new safety measures included reduced staff at the Reno distribution center, mandatory masks and gloves, routine disinfection, and employee vaccinations. However, the company faced further "tumult" following the murder of George Floyd.

Patagonia's initial "milquetoast statement" on social injustice was criticized by its few Black employees and allies as "too little, too late". Leah Thomas, a furloughed Black marketing employee, noted the lack of connection between environmental advocacy for "salmon and other endangered species" and "endangered Black and brown lives". Patagonia acknowledged its "homogeneity" and lack of Black employees, with former HR head Dean Carter recalling a Black female new hire feeling out of place during a group surf session. The company issued a "self-flagellating statement," admitting its words "fell short," laying bare its "complicity" as a "white-led outdoor company reliant on recreation on stolen Native lands that are not yet safe for all".

The turmoil continued with Marcario's abrupt resignation as CEO during the pandemic, leaving no succession plan. Publicly, it was framed as a "mutual decision". However, insiders revealed Marcario was "overwhelmed" by pandemic pressures, personal challenges, and a "testy relationship with the family". The Chouinards handled her exit "not as strategically as they could have," with Malinda pushing for a swift departure. The company operated leaderless for months, leading to suffering morale, stagnating innovation, and a wave of employee departures. Chouinard's wish for reduced sales came true, but at the cost of "lasting damage".

"Pay Their Fair Share"

With its new mission statement and a desire to resist Trump, Patagonia engaged in increasingly partisan political activism. In 2020, "Vote The Assholes Out" was found stitched into the tag of new Stand Up Shorts. This "subversive bit of tailoring," done by rebels in the design team without executive approval, was embraced by Chouinard, who confirmed, "I need them in a size 32". The "assholes" referred to politicians denying climate change.

After the pandemic, Patagonia railed against Republican tax cuts. When the Trump administration's corporate tax overhaul gave Patagonia an estimated $10 million windfall, CEO Ryan Gellert publicly called for higher corporate taxes, stating Patagonia was "willing to pay a higher corporate tax rate" to fund "climate investments". Gellert further criticized "Corporate America" for "hiding behind the Chamber of Commerce and Business Roundtable," accusing CEOs of publicly supporting climate action while privately opposing legislation like the Build Back Better framework due to tax hikes.

Patagonia also scaled back business with "ideological adversaries". Known as "Patagucci" for its high prices and popularity with "stylish urbanites," the company had done "brisk business" selling branded Synchilla jackets and Nano Puff vests to Wall Street firms. These "Midtown Uniform" items, often discarded after short use, contradicted Patagonia's mission of making durable products. Consequently, Patagonia stopped its co-logo program and reduced sales to financial and tech companies.

Chapter 10: Giving It All Away

"The Stars Aligned"

In 2017, Chouinard, then in his 80s, faced the "nightmare" of being listed on Forbes magazine's annual list of billionaires. This "blasphemous" label deeply "pissed him off," as he still lived simply and despised the "greaseball" image of moguls. He spent the day demanding, "Get me off that list!". He resolved to remove himself from the list, even if it meant "doing something drastic with the company". The pandemic only heightened this urgency, as his net worth continued to rise. In 2020, he issued an ultimatum to his inner circle: get him off the list or he would do it himself. In February 2021, he threatened CEO Ryan Gellert that he would "start cold calling people" from the Forbes list if they didn't act.

Chouinard sought advice from Charles Conn, a Patagonia board member and entrepreneur. Conn and Gellert, along with general counsel Hilary Dessouky and her deputy Greg Curtis, formed a team to find a solution. They quickly realized there were "no obvious solutions" and "none of them are good". Key priorities emerged: Patagonia must survive as an independent company for another 50 years, and a larger share of its over $100 million in annual profits must go to environmental causes. Additionally, the solution needed to downplay the family's public profile and protect the privacy of Fletcher and Claire Chouinard and their children, as they neither wanted to inherit the company, accrue wealth, nor be famous. The family also wanted to remain involved with Patagonia. Finally, the solution had to be implemented quickly, as Chouinard, though vigorous, did not want to die with the situation unresolved.

The team, code-named "Project Chacabuco" (after the Chilean valley the Chouinards and Tompkinses helped preserve), began meeting biweekly in early 2021. Fletcher and Claire Chouinard, who worked at Patagonia, shared their parents' vision and did not want to own the company or become public figures, believing "billionaires represent a policy failure".

Traditional options were dismissed. Selling the company, even for $6 billion, was rejected because Malinda feared the buyer would dismantle Patagonia and cause 3,000 layoffs. Taking the company public was also out, as Chouinard believed it would lead to a loss of control, pressure for "endless growth," and the necessity to "maximize profits for the shareholder," turning Patagonia into "one of these irresponsible companies". Employee ownership was considered but dismissed due to the lack of guarantee that profits would go to environmental causes or that the company's values would endure.

The team concluded that "no obvious solution" existed for this "multibillion-dollar problem," noting that ownership transitions at other socially-minded companies like Ben & Jerry's and Newman's Own had led to compromises or family disputes. They recognized Patagonia needed a "bespoke solution" and their meetings became philosophical, questioning the definition of success or failure for the "Patagonia experiment". Conn described it as "Gestalt sessions every week or every other week for more than two years".

"Let’s Do It"

A planned family trip in August 2021 pushed the Project Chacabuco team to quickly devise a plan before they potentially died together, leaving the company "directionless". Their initial proposal involved the Chouinards donating all shares to a private foundation, which would sell stock over time (e.g., 5% annually) to fund environmental groups. This "imperfect solution" was signed off on, but everyone recognized it merely "kicked the can down the road" and would eventually compromise the company's integrity by gradually handing control to an external entity. Conn acknowledged that Patagonia's "biggest contribution was being an iconoclast" and running differently from other businesses.

Conn then brought in Dan Mosley, a "fixer for the very rich" and former partner at Cravath, Swaine & Moore, who later worked for BDT, Warren Buffett's banker. Mosley was "astonished" by the Chouinards' sincere desire to give away their fortune. He proposed using a "purpose trust," a non-charitable entity established for a "special purpose rather than a specific individual". While typically used for small tasks (like caring for a pet), Mosley encouraged thinking bigger: using a purpose trust to "enshrine the values of Patagonia itself," enabling a new form of corporate succession that would allow the Chouinards to achieve their goals without selling the company.

Within months, the final arrangement took shape. The Chouinards would irrevocably transfer all of Patagonia's voting stock (2% of overall shares) into a newly established Patagonia Purpose Trust. This trust, overseen by family members and advisors, would ensure Patagonia remained socially responsible and donated all its profits. The remaining 98% of Patagonia's stock (nonvoting shares) would be irrevocably donated to a group of newly established 501(c)(4) nonprofit organizations called the Holdfast Collective. The Holdfast Collective would permanently hold these shares, receive all of Patagonia's earnings not reinvested in the company, and disburse these funds to groups fighting the climate crisis. Its 501(c)(4) structure allowed it to make donations to political groups. Dessouky stated, "Patagonia has every incentive to continue operating profitably so it can maximize benefit for all of its stakeholders and push out more dividends to the Holdfast Collective to use to save the planet".

This structure ensured Patagonia's independence, as the voting shares were "locked up in the purpose trust," preventing a takeover by a "spineless billionaire or amoral corporation". Mosley explained, "His goal was to ensure that it operated the way it operated, and then it will make whatever profit it makes". Crucially, Fletcher and Claire Chouinard approved. Fletcher stated it was "the first truly durable option" to ensure company values, bringing "a sense of relief" and allowing him to "get back to work!". Claire emphasized that the "climate and biodiversity crises" were existential threats and recognized that the "extractive model of capitalism" was the root cause, requiring a shift to a "regenerative" system.

In December 2021, the Chouinards, McDivitt Tompkins, the Project Chacabuco team, Mosley, and other key advisors gathered at McDivitt Tompkins's home in Santa Paula. After detailed explanations and addressing concerns, the plan received unanimous consent. In August 2022, Curtis finalized the deal at the Chouinards' Wyoming home. With a few strokes of a pen, the family transferred all their shares to the Holdfast Collective and the Patagonia Purpose Trust, transforming them from owners of a multibillion-dollar company to no longer being so. Chouinard celebrated by raising a toast at a local restaurant.

"Billionaire No More"

The news of the ownership change was kept remarkably secret until the reveal. On September 13, 2022, Patagonia hosted a company-wide party at its Ventura headquarters, featuring food trucks, an interactive exhibit, and a stage with cameras broadcasting globally. Rumors, including Beyoncé giving a speech, circulated.

The event began with comedian Trevor Noah on screen, followed by a montage of Patagonia's history and a video of Chouinard explaining the complex structure of trusts and nonprofits. Many employees were initially confused about whether the company had been sold or if they still had jobs. The executive team clarified the transaction. Chouinard then took the stage, wearing jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, reflecting on his career and the moment's significance. He declared, "By turning over the ownership of the corporation to our home planet, we are now reinventing capitalism". He believed this structure would ensure Patagonia's survival and allow it to "thrive," locking in its values and providing "more money to the environmental crisis". Chouinard teared up, stating, "I never cry at funerals... I only cry at rodeos and days like this".

Concurrently, David Gelles's story in The New York Times, titled "Billionaire No More: Patagonia Founder Gives Away the Company," published online and went viral. Other news outlets and celebrities spread the story, and Patagonia adopted a new marketing tagline: "Earth is now our only shareholder".

This "triumphal moment" also served as a reflection on Doug Tompkins's legacy. While Tompkins had urged Chouinard to sell, McDivitt Tompkins approved of Chouinard's new solution, which created a "durable stream of earnings" for environmental causes rather than a one-time payout. She believed Tompkins would be "so proud of Yvon". Chouinard joined a select group of billionaires who have donated substantially all their wealth to charity, including Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, George Soros, Chuck Feeney, and MacKenzie Scott.

Some commentators, however, viewed the restructuring as a "convenient way to avoid taxes". Articles in Quartz and Fortune, and a tweet from Jesse Eisinger of ProPublica, accused Chouinard of using a "legal loophole" to save "hundreds of millions in taxes".

The Chouinards would indeed pay a "relatively modest sum" compared to what they would owe if they sold the company (over $1 billion in capital gains taxes). Since they donated their shares rather than sold them, they had no capital gains. They also structured the Holdfast Collective as a 501(c)(4) instead of a 501(c)(3), sacrificing a massive charitable tax deduction to enable political activity. They were taxed only $17.5 million on the donation of voting shares to the Purpose Trust. Mosley argued there was "no tax benefit here whatsoever" and that the Chouinards incurred a "meaningful cost" they were willing to bear for their principles. The deal was "practically a wash," with no great profit, tax break, or huge tax bill.

Critics persisted, comparing it to Barre Seid's move where he donated his company to a conservative nonprofit, which then sold it, allowing Seid to avoid taxes. However, a "crucial difference" was that Patagonia's equity was never monetized; the stock was "effectively frozen forever," and funds for environmental work would come from ongoing profits, not a sale. While the Chouinards could have structured the deal to pay more in taxes (e.g., $850 million by donating all stock to the Purpose Trust), finding that much cash would have required selling shares to an outside investor, which they sought to avoid. Critics remained "flummoxed," but the author concluded that the critique lacked "substantive evidence". The Chouinards never monetized the company's value, instead giving it all away, unburdening themselves of a fortune. Malinda said, "Now we can die in peace".

"An Existential Exit Strategy"

Patagonia's restructuring, funneling all profits to charitable causes, is a rare feat in capitalism, though some European companies (IKEA, Lego, Rolex) also donate most of their profits to foundations. With Patagonia's proceeds now going to the Holdfast Collective and an expectation of immediate results, there was pressure to make an impact.

Money began moving even before the news was public. Patagonia wired $50 million to the Holdfast Collective, making it a "formidable environmental philanthropy". However, there was "no real plan" for how to disburse the funds. Greg Curtis, Patagonia's former deputy general counsel, was tasked with running Holdfast as its sole full-time employee. He operated without a website or public application process for grants, and the Chouinards offered only rough guidance. Chouinard dismissed carbon capture technology, preferring to support "natural processes" like regenerative agriculture and buying "carbon sinks" to prevent development.

In its first year, Holdfast made 690 grants totaling over $61 million. Major donations included $5.2 million to The Nature Conservancy for land acquisition in the Mobile-Tensaw Delta and funds to impede the Pebble Mine project in Alaska. It supported diverse groups, from Earthjustice to Hot Pink Dolphins, consistently making "relatively small donations to grassroots groups," mirroring Chouinard's initial grants to Mark Capelli 50 years prior.

Holdfast also engaged in politics, making major contributions to PACs supporting Democrats, as well as smaller gifts to grassroots groups like the Black Voters Matter Fund. Curtis stated there was no partisan intention, but a goal to "advance stronger environmental policy," noting that most climate leaders aligned with Democrats. This partisan giving drew criticism from groups like Americans for Public Trust, who called Holdfast a "$1.7 billion ATM for liberal groups".

Inside Patagonia, initial confusion subsided, and Holdfast's work became a source of pride, motivating employees with a "real sense of purpose" to "save the planet". Other moguls sought advice, and 1% for the Planet began advising companies on similar restructurings. Michael Bloomberg pledged to give most of his $22.5 billion company to Bloomberg Philanthropies, and Hobby Lobby founder David Green pledged his $4.6 billion company "to the Lord Almighty," drawing a direct parallel to Chouinard's "going purpose". Green aimed to "fund Christianity" and disdained materialism.

Company insiders, like Rick Ridgeway, saw these moves as proof that Chouinard had "opened a new route," demonstrating "other ways to do this" and marking a "potentially historic moment in the evolution of business". Malinda Chouinard mused, "Imagine if all the rich people did this. But they keep buying boats instead". Management guru Jim Collins called it a "big and wonderful experiment" and an "existential exit strategy," redefining how companies can evolve. The ownership change allowed Chouinard to finish his life's work on his own terms, making an "emphatic statement" that there was "another way to do business". He created lasting value for the planet, resisted material wealth, and "codified this arrangement in perpetuity," ensuring Patagonia's profits would protect the planet even after he was gone.

Chapter 11: The Next 50 Years

"Doing the Right Thing"

Chouinard, at 85, continued to test Patagonia's fishing gear in Argentina, embodying the same perfectionism he applied to pitons in his youth. He provided detailed feedback to designers, like adjusting Velcro on jacket cuffs to prevent skin irritation. This "attention to detail" ensured Patagonia's revenues continued to rise post-pandemic and ownership change.

The outdoor gear market is increasingly crowded, with numerous competitors. To maintain its edge, Patagonia must "stay several steps ahead" by continuously solving "hard problems". The company has been producing wetsuits since 2006, initially using merino wool lining and limestone-based neoprene. However, these had shortcomings, and Patagonia developed Yulex wetsuits from natural rubber. An initial manufacturing snafu with sizing was corrected, and Yulex wetsuits found a growing market. Surfing with big wave surfer Ramón Navarro in Chile, the author experienced the effectiveness of the Yulex suits.

In Chincha, Peru, Textil del Valle (TDV), a vertically integrated textile factory and Patagonia supplier, is pushing the limits of responsible manufacturing. Once a conventional factory competing on price, TDV transformed its operations under Juan José Córdova, embracing organic cotton, regenerative practices, improved wastewater treatment, carbon offsets, and better worker conditions. This focus on quality and sustainability led to lucrative contracts with Lululemon and Lacoste, proving that "profit was a consequence of doing the right thing". Patagonia's strict inspectors initially found TDV wanting but later approved them, leading to increased orders.

Despite its progress, Patagonia continues to grapple with "enduring sore spot[s]" like microplastics. While recycled polyester reduces demand for fossil fuels, it sheds microscopic plastic particles, polluting the planet. Patagonia has tried redesigning fabrics, educating consumers on cold water washing, and collaborating with Samsung on washing machine filters, but "recent analysis found that Patagonia fleeces shed large quantities of microplastics". Furthermore, shipping global inventory still requires "huge amounts of jet fuel, shipping fuel, and gasoline," and products are often wrapped in individual plastic bags. Chouinard acknowledged, "Patagonia is not a sustainable company... There’s no such thing," viewing philanthropy as "the cost of doing business".

The urgency of saving the planet is paramount, especially as climate change-driven disasters worsen and political headwinds persist. Chouinard believes "Every advancement in this society has been done through activism" and that "every business should be committed to people and the planet, above all else".

"Bigger Than the Apparel Business"

Chouinard envisions Patagonia becoming primarily a food company in 50 years. This vision is pursued by Paul Lightfoot, general manager of Patagonia Provisions. Lightfoot's work focuses on regenerative agriculture, exemplified by A-Frame Farm in Minnesota, which grows diversified crops and practices organic methods.

A-Frame Farm stands out for its use of kernza, a perennial grain that doesn't need annual replanting. Kernza's deep roots (15 feet versus 5 feet for conventional wheat) allow it to sequester significantly more carbon dioxide, offering benefits for both farmers (less labor, fuel, water) and the planet. Lightfoot emphasizes that food is the "most important lever that Patagonia can pull" to fulfill its mission of saving the home planet.

Chouinard first considered a food company over 40 years ago, hiring Lorenz Schaller in 1984 to sell roasted grain blends, but the effort fizzled due to sourcing and market challenges. He tried again in 2012, hiring Birgit Cameron to start Patagonia Provisions. His hypothesis was that while clothing could only "do less harm," food could "actually do some good for the Earth" through improved soil health, carbon absorption, and ocean cleaning. He stated, "We need a revolution in society, and it’s not gonna come from any other way except from agriculture".

Patagonia Provisions rapidly expanded, introducing dozens of products, including crackers, tinned fish, soups, chilis, fruit bars, grains, and even wine. However, this "audacious expansion strategy" spread Provisions thin, with only a few offerings, mostly tinned fish, selling well. By 2022, Chouinard, dissatisfied, replaced Cameron with Lightfoot, who was tasked with making Provisions profitable.

Lightfoot streamlined the portfolio, focusing on quality, nutrition, environmental impact, and profitability. He cut underperforming items and concentrated on three categories: crackers, pasta, and tinned seafood. Seafood is the largest and easiest part of the business, benefiting from a "renaissance" in tinned fish and Patagonia's brand loyalty. Mussels clean the ocean, and sardines, anchovies, and mackerel are sustainable choices. This aligns with Chouinard's love for fishing.

Kernza is another key focus. While not yet widely known, its proponents believe it can displace wheat due to its environmental benefits. Patagonia Provisions is investing in kernza, paying a premium, integrating it into its supply chain, and partnering with breweries to create kernza beers (e.g., with Sierra Nevada and Deschutes Brewery), helping to build a market for the grain. The beer's quality, even winning awards, is crucial, as Lightfoot, channeling Chouinard, states, "If you don’t get the quality right, you’re not going to win". Chouinard believes that through the "right kind of agriculture," food offers the possibility to "actually do some good for the Earth," and he envisions the food business "being bigger than the apparel business" in 50 years.

"A Spiritual Connection with Nature"

During a trip to Argentina, Chouinard, reflecting on his curmudgeonly nature and Patagonia's success, expressed concern that the company was "losing its way". He noted challenges such as dipping sales after COVID, the racial reckoning, Marcario's abrupt departure, a new labor union at the Reno retail store, and recent layoffs. Tensions persisted among senior ranks, with executives facing "irreconcilable objectives" of generating profits while limiting growth. He complained about managers "just managing" instead of "taking us to the next place".

Chouinard's core complaint was that current employees "simply didn’t understand quality," leading to too many similar items, clothes that didn't always work, and products that lasted "a season or two, not a lifetime". He reiterated that "The secret of our success has been quality" and that decisions based on quality and environmental responsibility "make more money".

He retained hope for humanity, believing people needed a "spiritual connection with nature" to overcome "nature deficit disorder". He hoped that the "trashy" quality of modern life would lead consumers to realize the system was broken and to prioritize buying "less stuff, but buy things that were built to last". This consumer shift, he argued, would "force corporations to change," which would then "force government to change," potentially transforming the world. He urged everyone to make the environmental crisis their "number one priority," recalling wartime rationing as an example of collective action. He questioned, "Am I doing enough? The answer is no. So how can we do more good with this company?".

The playbook for doing more good remained consistent: save the home planet. The ownership change and Holdfast Collective institutionalized this, ensuring profits would fund conservation. Profitability was crucial, with no debt, "antsy investors," or "greedy shareholders," allowing for ample resources for Holdfast with roughly 10% margins. Quality remained "the tough one," demanding continuous improvement in craftsmanship, material sustainability, and ethical supplier practices. Chouinard stated, "We’re not a perfect company... But at least we’re recognizing it, and we’re doing something about it".

Patagonia's impact extended beyond Ventura, influencing the business world in areas like employee care, childcare, workplace freedom, supplier ethics, and environmental activism. Its legacy includes the national parks in Chile and Argentina, co-founding sustainability groups, 1% for the Planet, the ownership change, and the flow of funds from Holdfast.

Reflecting on his life, Chouinard expressed a sense of peace: "I feel like I could die tomorrow, and the company is going to continue for the next 50 years, and it’s going to continue doing the right thing, and I don’t have to be around". He saw himself as "the company philosopher" and "the entrepreneur that comes up with crazy ideas". He felt "a big relief that I’ve put my life in order" and aimed to make "everything simpler and simpler for myself".

The author concluded with Chouinard inspecting a new Patagonia outpost in Bariloche, Argentina, an exquisite historic home being repurposed as a store and hostel for employees. Chouinard, appreciating the quality of the 1916 building, then strolled through orchards, picking an apple, taking a few bites, and throwing it in the dirt before heading off to "walk around another mountain, to fish another river, to find himself—somewhere in Patagonia".