MOLI VIEW™

When a friend visited from France a few months ago, I was soundly scolded as a representative of my compatriots for wasting so many plastic bags at the supermarket. He was appalled. I was appalled that he was appalled. I promptly bought a woven market bag not just for me, but for three of my fellow plastic-bag junkie friends who all happened to have birthdays around the time of Frenchie's visit.
I used mine once. It was big and bulky, yet narrow at the bottom, so stuff sort of stacked up inside in an awkward way. I never remembered to bring it anywhere. I continued to stockpile plastic bags.
Until a month ago, when I noticed a glimmer of green above the tabloids in the supermarket aisle at Publix: a stack of adorable (sadly, that is my first priority), recyclable bags, right there for the grabbing. I didn't even look at the price (and at $1.49, it didn't matter). I grabbed a handful, suddenly overcome by a wave of bliss. Sure, I like to do good things. But I really like it when I don't have to go out of my way to do them.
The check-out lady and the man bagging my goods were smiling too. Everyone was thrilled to use the green bags.
The bliss overflowed as I made my way to my car. Unlike that bulky straw thing I'd bought before, these bags are made of a sturdy, yet recyclable, polypropelene plastic. There's a removable rectangular sheet of ppp plastic that gives the bag a solid base for packing, then flips up for easy storage. I bought milk, orange juice, bread, eggs — even a watermelon! And thanks to the sturdy construction and wide, extra-long handles, I had no problem carrying it all with two lighter bags slipped over my shoulders and two in my hands.
This brilliant design was pioneered by the Irish companies Superquinn Group and T S O'Connor & Son, who together founded Greenbag soon after Ireland placed a heavy tax on plastic shopping bags that drove down use by 90 percent (why don't we do that here!). As far as I can tell from reading each company's websites, the design was improved upon by a rival Green Bag company, although both Green Baggers claim to be the original Green Bag. Maybe they're one and the same. I can't figure it out — just give me a green bag.
The real test of whether this reusable bag thing was going to work came on my next trip to the store. Would I remember the bags? I stowed them in my car, at the ready. But I still forgot to bring them into Walgreen's at 5 a.m. when I went on yet another trip for eggs, milk, and orange juice. I didn't remember until the cashier reached for a plastic bag. There weren't many people in the store, so I asked him if he would wait while I went out to my car to get my own bags.
"Sure," he smiled. "That's eco-conscious!"
When I returned, there was a gentleman waiting patiently for me so he could check out. When I apologized, he smiled too. Everyone wanted to be part of the green bags.
After three or four trips, I got pretty good at remembering to bring the bags (although I probably bug the Publix cashiers when I make a big deal about how I brought my own bags; I'm worried they'll charge me again). Recently, the elderly gentleman bagging my produce tried to put everything in a plastic bag and then put the plastic into the green bag. He laughed and laughed as I protested his attempts to plastic bag each item. The cashier laughed too.
Hopefully, someday soon, the green bag will become a mundane practice — just what you do when you shop. But for now it's new and fun, turning every shopping trip into a communal celebration. The shopkeepers feel they're doing something good. You feel you're doing something good. Everyone smiles.
Get your green bag bliss for cheap in the aisle at Publix or not quite as cheap in the aisle at Whole Foods (from designer Anya "I'm Not a Plastic Bag" Hindmarch, in addition to non-designer bags for $1). If your favorite store doesn't carry the bags, you can order your own online for about $3 at sites like gogreenbag.com or ecobags.com.
Celeste Fraser Delgado is the MOLI View's contributing editor for Worthy Causes.

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