Patagonia Chief Executive Rose Marcario Has A Plan To Fix Capitalism (and Sell A Few Fleeces)

THERE ARE TWO SMALL HOLES IN THE CHEST OF my black fleece, as if a vampire took a nip, but Rose Marcario, the CEO of Patagonia, does not think I need a new one.

- Alana Semuels

The outdoor-apparel retailer would make more money if Marcario pushed one of the supple pink and purple pullovers on sale for $119 in the Patagonia store downstairs. Instead she suggests a different idea. “You can just patch it,” she says, sitting near an open window at Patagonia’s camplike Ventura, Calif., headquarters, wearing brown Buddhist prayer beads on her wrist. It’s an odd statement for the head of a retailer, but she shrugs and says, “I’m not really a buyer of things.”

Patagonia has long been at the forefront of what is now emerging as a popular new flavor of capitalism. Today’s customers want their dollars to go to companies that will use their money to make the world a better place. Patagonia donates 1% of sales to environmental groups and in 2016 gave 100% of Black Friday sales—about $10 million —to environmental organizations. In late 2017, it sued President Trump after he issued proclamations to reduce the size of two national monuments. (The case is still making its way through the courts.) Late last year, it changed its mission statement to “We’re in business to save our home planet.” And on Sept. 20, Patagonia temporarily shut down its stores and offices so that employees —including Marcario—could strike alongside youth climate activists. “Business has to pick up the mantle when government fails you,” says Marcario, eating a bowl of hemp pesto pasta from the company’s organic cafeteria. “I think we’ve all realized that we have to go beyond ‘Do no unnecessary harm,’” a reference to a version of the company’s former motto.