Dirtbag Billionaire: How Yvon Chouinard Built Patagonia, Made a Fortune, and Gave It All Away

by David Gelles

Named one of Financial Times’s Best Books of 2025 New York Times reporter and bestselling author David Gelles reveals how Patagonia became a global leader in doing well by doing good and how other companies are adopting its principles. This is the inside story of one of the most extraordinary brands in the corporate world, the rare company that is driven by environmental activism instead of cutthroat capitalism. Founded in 1973, Patagonia has grown into a wildly popular producer of jackets, hats, and fleece vests, with a cultlike following among hardcore alpinists and Wall Street traders alike, posting sales of more than $1 billion a year. But it’s not just the clothes that make Patagonia unique. For decades, the company has distinguished itself as a singular beacon for socially responsible business, the rare company that can legitimately claim to be doing its damnedest to make the world a better place, while also making a profit. From its early efforts to take exemplary care of its employees, to its extensive work trying to clean up its supply chain, to its controversial activism, Patagonia has set itself apart from its peers with one unorthodox decision after another, proving that there is another way to do capitalism. At the heart of the story is Patagonia’s founder, the legendary rock climber Yvon Chouinard. A perennial outsider who forged one of the most impressive resumes in the outdoor world, Chouinard also established himself as a pivotal figure in the history of American business. Guided by his anti-authoritarian streak and his unwavering commitment to preserving the natural world, Patagonia came to exert a powerful influence on other companies, paving the way for a new era of social and environmental responsibility. He started out as a dirtbag—a term affectionately bestowed on poor, itinerant outdoorsmen so uninterested in material possessions they are happy to sleep in the dirt—and he became a billionaire. Chouinard also proved that there was another way to be a philanthropist. In the twilight of his career, he gave away Patagonia, renouncing his wealth and committing all its future profits to fighting the climate crisis. Drawing on exclusive access to Chouinard and the Patagonia team, Dirtbag Billionaire offers new insights into the key moments that informed their priorities, shaped the company, and sent ripples across the corporate world.

Genres: Biography, Nonfiction, Business, Memoir, Audiobook, Biography Memoir, Travel

320 pages, Kindle Edition

Published September 9, 2025

About the author

David Gelles is a reporter for the New York Times, covering mergers & acquisitions, corporate governance, and Wall Street. You can find most of his most recent work on DealBook.

Before joining the Times in September 2013, he spent five years with the Financial Times. At the FT, he covered tech, media and M&A in San Francisco and New York. In 2011 he conducted an exclusive jailhouse interview with Bernie Madoff, shedding new light on the $65 billion ponzi scheme.

David is writing a book about mindfulness at work, bringing together his 15 years of meditation practice with his work as a business journalist. ‘Mindful Work’ will be published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in 2015, and will explore the growing influence of Eastern wisdom on Western business.

He lives in New York City with his wife and daughter.

Reviews

[Ashley Rieple · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’ve gone back and forth on my review because I’m split in how I felt about the book. I really enjoyed the first half. It was fascinating to discover how he personally found the need for a product and then developed it, over and over. It was inspiring to see how his mind worked during the process.

The second half of the book was what left a bad taste in my mouth. I have the utmost respect for him for pulling his top selling product off the shelves since it was damaging the rock faces that he cared so much about. Serious respect for that but so many of the products he manufactured were harmful (and he very readily and openly admitted that) to the very environment that he wanted to protect. The globetrotting and excursions and known environmental pollutants his products were spitting into the atmosphere all contributed to what he was so desperately fighting against, it just came across as hypocritical.

I think it’s wonderful that he “gave his company away” to maintain his vision. Very few people put their money where their mouth is and I have respect for him for that. However, the last few sections of the book, he just came across more as an angry narcissist than a philanthropist. As I read the first few chapters, I expected to walk away from the book feeling inspired and in awe of this man (that I knew absolutely nothing about) but finished feeling pretty disappointed.

This book didn’t make me think he was a god for building a billion dollar company & then giving it away. It made me realize that we are all flawed and all have blindspots when trying to do what we think is right.

[Sarah Jensen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Book Review: Dirtbag Billionaire: How Yvon Chouinard Built Patagonia, Made a Fortune, and Gave It All Away by David Gelles

Rating: 4.8/5

Reactions & Emotional Impact
Gelles’ Dirtbag Billionaire is a revelatory deep dive into one of modern capitalism’s most radical experiments—a narrative that left me oscillating between inspiration and righteous indignation. As someone skeptical of corporate purpose-washing, I was stunned by the book’s unvarnished portrayal of Patagonia’s journey: how a scrappy climbing-gear company became a $1B-a-year activist enterprise without sacrificing its soul. The chapters detailing Chouinard’s dirtbag ethos—sleeping in dirt, forging pitons by hand, then later donating his entire company to fight climate change—stirred something primal in me. It’s rare to encounter a business biography that reads like an adventure tale, but Gelles masterfully captures the tension between profit and principle, making Patagonia’s contradictions (selling $400 vests while decrying consumerism) feel like a feature, not a bug.

Strengths
-Exclusive Access: Gelles’ proximity to Chouinard and Patagonia’s inner circle yields gold—like boardroom debates over whether to sue Trump for shrinking national monuments.
-Structural Innovation: The book reframes corporate social responsibility as activism by design, tracing how Patagonia’s 1% Earth Tax (1985) predated ESG by decades.
-Nuanced Critique: Gelles doesn’t shy from paradoxes (e.g., Patagonia’s carbon footprint grew with success), offering a blueprint for imperfect ethical business.
-Narrative Urgency: The prose thrums with the pace of a thriller, especially when chronicling Chouinard’s 2022 decision to transfer ownership to a trust—a mic-drop moment in philanthropy.

Constructive Criticism
-Labor Lens: While environmental heroics dominate, deeper analysis of Patagonia’s unionization tensions (e.g., 2020 Reno warehouse efforts) would round out its social justice portrait.
-Global Ripples: The book focuses heavily on U.S. influence; more on Patagonia’s supply-chain reforms in Global South factories could strengthen its international relevance.
-Comparative Framework: How does Patagonia’s model scale (or not)? A chapter contrasting it with B Corps like Ben & Jerry’s would enrich academic applicability.

Final Thoughts
This isn’t just a corporate biography—it’s a manifesto for rewriting capitalism’s DNA. Gelles proves that Chouinard’s genius wasn’t just giving away Patagonia, but building it as a weapon against extraction from the start. A must-read for business students, climate activists, and anyone who believes profit and planet needn’t be enemies.

Gratitude:
Thank you to Simon & Schuster and Edelweiss for the gifted copy—this book arrived as greenwashing proliferates, making its authenticity a clarion call.

Why 4.8?
Docked slightly for craving more systemic analysis, but Dirtbag Billionaire is a near-perfect case study in principled disruption.

Key Themes for Further Study:

-Anti-capitalist strategies within capitalism
-The paradox of “ethical consumption”
-Founder-legacy challenges in activist enterprises
-Trust-based ownership models vs. traditional philanthropy
-Corporate activism’s legal/political risks
-A game-changing work that will redefine how we measure business “success.”

[Amy · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a former Patagonia employee in the 80’s, I found this really interesting. The author really captured what it is like to work there, and everything rang true to me. It was fascinating to read about the progression of this truly unique company.

[Larissa · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is an outstanding biography of a man with an unconventional philosophy for how business should be run. In an era when billionaires often make headlines for the wrong reasons, Chouinard is a breath of fresh air. One of my favorite stories from the book describes a North Face party where the Grateful Dead (an up-and-coming band!) played, Joan Baez mingled in the crowd, and the Hells Angels served as security. It perfectly captured the wild, countercultural spirit of the time. The audiobook, narrated by author David Gelles, is among the best I’ve heard—his delivery brings both the man and his mission vividly to life.

[Grace Connors · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very cool. Fascinating story and contradiction, and overall insightful.

[Text Publishing]

The following reviews have been shared by Text Publishing, publisher of Dirtbag Billionnaire.

‘Highly entertaining.’
Harry Wallop Times

‘A riveting behind-the-scenes look at Patagonia—and how the trailblazing company redefined business and purpose….Essential reading.’
Charles Duhigg, bestselling author of Supercommunicators and The Power of Habit

‘Chouinard’s fascinating, daring and contradictory life is unique in the annals of modern business, and Gelles shows us why in vivid, sympathetic detail.’
John Vaillant, bestselling author of Fire Weather

‘You will want to read David Gelles’s outstanding saga in one sitting. Yvon has made an extraordinary contribution to humankind.’
Paul Hawken, author of Carbon

[Randy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not so much of a biography of Yvon Chouinard, as it is a history of Patagonia

I really wanted to learn the origin story of “When everything goes wrong, that’s when the adventure starts” is a favorite quote, along with “The more you know, the less you need”

Also, it could have used photos - I was constantly going to google to see what the pitons looked like (before & after), what the ice axe looked like (before & after), what the people he's talking about looked like, where those places were, and so on

[Austin Sorenson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Chouinard is a unique individual amongst business leaders.

The story of his founding of Patagonia is fascinating in so many ways. From the low start up cost, manufacturing in his back yard, to passing over running of the company and how he retained a 100% ownership stake to ensure Patagonia followed his mission.

Chouinard to the perfect example of not letting idealism get in the way of making a difference. He is a devote environmentalist with a love for everything outdoors. Yet he runs a company that damages the planet through its success. He is completely aware of this contradiction, but understands things won’t get better unless business make strides to improve their practices. He’s not trying to tear the system down and only offer criticism. He is working within reality, and doing his best to make the least impact and funnel his resources into making change. Something that I think is lost in many who care deeply about challenges we as humanity face.

I normally idolise the subject of a biography and believe their flaws are justified by their actions. However I was surprised about Chouinard. The way he was portrayed was as an angry man, unaware of how his situation was different to everyone else. On one side I love his passion for nature, and I think his contribution to sustainable business and preserving nature are world class. This speaks to me on so many levels about how I would love to live my life. On the other hand, I found him cheap in not wanting to share profits of Patagonia with his staff and condescending as he got frustrated with others not doing enough for the planet.

Worrying about sustainability is really easy from a position like his. He has his beautiful houses around the world and spends months every year on wild life expeditions around the globe. He has none of the pressure that occupy 99% of the consciousness of the masses. Pat on the back I suppose for not buying a yacht, but I feel no sympathy as he stops around the Patagonia campus complaining that he is a billionaire. It’s admirable his kids didn’t squabble over the fortune unlike some of his peers, although again, this is just how I would expect normal humans to behave. So really, I’m not that impressed and mostly just frustrated and bored about this section.

The final structure of Patagonia is interesting and innovative for how a company may be restructured to do good. Chouinard wanted to influence other business leaders through leading by example. There is no way you can take this away from him so hats off here.

Overall amazing impact, just a couple of smaller things that irked my NPC brain.

[rohansillyguy · Rating 3 out of 5]

The story of Yvon Chouinard and Patagonia is a winding tale of righteous contradictions. On one hand, he is a shrewd capitalist in one of the most wasteful and cyclically consumptive industries, clothing. On the other, he is a staunch hater against his own success, loathing overconsumption, corporate greed, and his own billionaire status.

At its core, Patagonia is a reflection of Chouinard himself and his perspective on humanity - a flawed approach which can hopefully take one step back and two forward. The staunch love for nature shines clearly through with their humanistic branding and obsession of quality above all else.

The challenges are also not to be understated - a company which limits its own growth yet demands profitability just to donate more is a fascinating contradiction, and in so many ways is the dirtbag mentality Chouinard holds so close. By going so far against the grain, Chouinard has seeked to show both corporations, consumers, and governments alike that there is more than one way to play the game we call capitalism. Chouinard's sacrifices from a business perspective, sheer risks in refusing to bend on values is nothing short of admirable boneheadedness.

On the other hand, it is hard to ignore the fact that the Chouinards themselves treat employees and the environment so well, but insist on keeping equity to themself. Even in succession, the company was donated to a trust which funnels profits to nonprofits, another first-of-its-kind sacrifice, yet time and again there has been a refusal to allow employees to reap the benefits of their sacrifices. In many senses, we have yet another story of a self-aggrandizing entrepreneur who runs his business on his own whims between nature reprieves whilst demanding complete commitment and unattainable standards for those who man the ship.

While I was excited to pick this up, I was quite disappointed in Gelles' telling of the story. Much of the novel felt like exposition, with many missed opportunities to immerse you within Chouinard's fascinating world, especially within his formative nature expeditions. I often felt like I was being told a story from a third-party who deep dove into facts and company documents, as opposed to feeling as immersed in a story Gelles clearly took immense effort in gathering interviews and insights for.

Time will tell about the longevity of Patagonia's clothing business, or ambitions within food, but for now - it is a friendly, yet admittedly trite reminder that quality and doing the right thing are perennial moats in business.

On the whole, Chouinard's story is an important one, but told in a lackluster fashion. The story of a dirtbag billionaire felt, well, polished. It was too put together and sanitized in its writing to hook me in and really nag at some of the existential questions which exist not just within Patagonia, but within us as humans facing a mounting climate crisis.

[Olivia Liang · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Wearing jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, Chouinard reflected on his career, and the significance of the moment. ‘By turning over the ownership of the corporation to our home planet, we are now reinventing capitalism,’ he said. ‘I believe we will not only survive but thrive because of this new structure. It does two of the most important things. It locks in our values, and it gives away more money to the environmental crisis.’ As he concluded his remarks, Chouinard teared up. ‘I never cry at funerals,’ he said. ‘I only cry at rodeos and days like this.’”

Everyone should read this book and buy (sparingly) from Patagonia. If you’re not an environmentalist, this book will make you one. If you’re already fighting for the Earth, this book will be an inspiring source of comfort and encourage you to persevere.

[Nathan · Rating 3 out of 5]

I think the failure here is that the author just isn't that good (Which is probably why most not great books fail). The story and subject matter is fairly engaging. There is certainly a problem with a lack of specificity simply because the records of Patagonia from the 1980's just don't exist any more. But the book was repetitive and vague, not great for storytelling. Another friend also read this book and his review was "Eh, I skimmed a lot of it." I also thought the writing was the problem with the authors other book on Jack Welch.

[Nicole Toomey · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5. I really enjoyed this read. Highly recommend for those who want to be more conscious consumers.

[Ashley Campbell · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was alright. Not a favorite, but interesting to learn about. I had higher hopes. First half of the books was good but the second half was a bit dry and negative.

[Elaine Heumann · Rating 5 out of 5]

David Gelles writes with passion, the love of poetic word choices, and soulful empathy. That would be reason enough to read this book, but in these troubled times, it is a pleasure to read about a principled human. It gives us courage to know that both cantankerous individuals (Yvon Chouinard the founder of Patagonia) who break the capitalist mold for good and NYT journalists ( David Gelles) can bring us joy in reading. This non-fiction tome is a good place to find inspiration when your spirits need boosting.

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

Chouinard was on the fringes of society, and he loved it. He embraced the life of the dirtbag, reveling in the knowledge that the activity he found most fulfilling—climbing up granite walls—had no social or economic value. Climbing was an act of rebellion as he saw it, from a conventional life and from society at large. While other young adults were headed off to work, Chouinard determined that his time was better spent in the woods.

Despite the shredded fingertips, throbbing muscles, and strained joints, he missed the transcendent experience of being on the wall. And while it took him three years to fully regain his confidence, he was soon at it again, this time going even higher. In climbing, Chouinard had found not just a hobby but an identity. It was more than a sport, it was a puzzle, a community, and a grueling physical challenge. It was a way of life, and it would eventually become his livelihood.

Rating: 5/5

Researching Patagonia was also an opportunity to test my conviction that business can be a force for good. It’s easy to be cynical about our highly unequal economy, and it’s vital—especially as a journalist—to be critical of for-profit corporations. But it’s just as important to shine a light on what’s working. Without stories that provide some glimmer of hope, we forfeit the possibility of being inspired. Without good role models, we’re left without a playbook for effecting positive change in the world. Not every company can be Patagonia, and no one can re-create Chouinard’s wildly abundant life. Yet all businesses and everyone who works has much to learn from the way the Patagonia team forged a new path through the wilds of late capitalism.

Many books offer pat lessons and actionable strategies for getting ahead in business. This narrative doesn’t lend itself to that sort of tidy analysis. The story of Patagonia isn’t a self-help treatise. It’s more like a Zen koan. And at the center of the story is a man who was a revolutionary three times over: in sports, commerce, and charity.

His whole life had led to this moment. A man who could have had anything, who walked away from billions of dollars, who scaled mountains, lost friends, and built empires, Chouinard, in the twilight of his life, wanted nothing more than to be alone on a river, rod and reel in hand, immersed in the beauty of the natural world.

In the wilderness, Chouinard hunted and ate porcupines, grouse, and squirrels. To supplement his meager diet, he turned to fishing, finding utility in his boyhood hobby. He often made do on 50 cents to $1 a day, eating little more than potatoes or oatmeal. Once, on his way to the Rockies, he and his friend Ken Weeks bought a case of dented cans of cat food, five cents apiece, and ate them over the course of a summer. Another time, he absconded to Mexico for a month, sustaining himself on tropical fruit and fish, chasing away scorpions, and using votive candles from the nearby church to wax his surfboard. “I was a dirtbag climber,” he said. “I had no money whatsoever. I was eating cat food, ground squirrels. I would sneak into yards to steal fruit.”

“He taught me that when you buy a tool, you buy the absolute best tool you can get and keep it for the rest of your life,” Chouinard said. “That’s much better than buying a cheap tool and having it break, buying another one, having that break.”

They soon came back with a postage stamp–sized piton they had fashioned by taking a power hacksaw blade, breaking off the end, and fitting their sling into the blade’s hole. They made it most of the way up, but as Chouinard attempted to hammer the blade into a crack near the top, it shattered into pieces, forcing them to abort the climb again. The failure offered an additional insight: this piton needed to be made not of the everyday steel Chouinard usually used, but of an exceptionally durable alloy. That led Chouinard and Frost to collaborate and design an entirely new piece of gear. Just half an inch long, composed of chrome-nickel steel, and the width of a razor blade, they called it the Realized Ultimate Reality Piton, or RURP, and put it into production.

As the seasons passed and he kept putting up new routes, Chouinard became a fixture at Camp 4 in Yosemite National Park, the epicenter of the climbing subculture. Yet even there, he was an outsider among outsiders. While others paid the requisite fees to pitch their tents at the prepared campsites, Chouinard and his friends slept among the boulders in the woods after they had overstayed their two-week permit, calling themselves the Valley Cong, a reference to the rebel Viet Cong forces in Vietnam.

All the while, Tompkins and Chouinard egged each other on, testing out new ideas and pushing their physical limits. While their values were deeply aligned, they had profoundly different views about how to run a business and how to spend their winnings. Tompkins was a maximalist, looking to grow his companies, make a killing, and live like a king. Chouinard was a minimalist, opting to refrain from excessive growth, proceed cautiously when it came to financial matters, and live like a pauper. It was a friendship that made a dent in the universe, and to fully understand the story of Chouinard and Patagonia, it’s essential to understand the story of Tompkins and Esprit.

In long talks on these day trips, they shared a foundational epiphany that would shape both their lives. Humans, they realized, were messing up the environment. With overdevelopment, industry, and the mundane but resource-intensive work of simply getting by, everyone on Earth was playing a role in the ecosystem’s destruction, and everyone, Chouinard and Tompkins came to believe, had a responsibility to make things better. “Early on, we recognized that we humans were destroying our home planet,” Chouinard said, “and that each of us, in our own way, was responsible to protect and restore the wild nature that we loved.”

With his move from pitons to chocks, Chouinard had overhauled his product lineup in order to take better care of the planet. Now he was using the power of his purse to support grassroots environmental activists, taking the first step on a philanthropic journey that would shape his career, and the world.

During one of his extended stays at Camp 4 in Yosemite, Chouinard witnessed an altercation between an unruly driver and a plucky young woman that would change his life. As a car passed through the camp, the driver tossed an empty beer can out the window. The woman chased down the car and told the driver to pick the can up. A passenger in the car offered a middle finger in return, prompting the now irate woman to rip off the car’s license plate with her bare hands and turn it over to a park ranger.

On a wall in the office, a quote attributed to Henry David Thoreau provided inspiration: “Simplification of means and elevation of ends is the goal.” A key to the office was hidden under a rock, allowing workers to come and go as they pleased, with some eccentric craftsmen hammering away in the middle of the night if they chose. A couple black Labs were always lurking around. Climbers would drop by, sometimes earning a bit of money packing boxes or helping sort inventory. The parking lot was still a party. The place still cleared out when the waves got going. “The people working with him were a box full of misfit toys,” said Hall Stratton, who worked in the shop.

As a blacksmith, Chouinard had developed an elegant touchmark—the small design element, often engraved in a metal object, that identified its craftsman. It was a simple diamond with the letter C inside. That touchmark appeared on most Chouinard Equipment products, and a version of it is still in use today, as the logo for Black Diamond. But by the early ’70s, Chouinard needed another distinctive visual flourish, in this case, a logo for Patagonia.

Chouinard asked two local freelance artists to come up with dueling versions of a design. Jocelyn Slack was one of those who got the assignment. Looking for inspiration, she leafed through a guidebook that described climbing in the region and came across an image of Fitz Roy, which the Fun Hogs had summitted eight years earlier. Studying the routes, Slack used a pencil to rough out a silhouette of the peaks. Eventually, going back and forth with Chouinard, she added some color to her simple mountain range. The company’s name was set in lowercase letters below the mountains, and the company had its logo.

Chouinard was never the most methodical leader. He didn’t lay out a grand strategy and diligently execute it with precision. Forethought was never Chouinard’s forte. Instead, his genius came in bursts of spontaneity, a dynamic that calls to mind his performance on the rock walls he scaled as a climber. Just as he would have to make split-second decisions while hanging hundreds of feet above the Yosemite Valley floor, leaping for the next crag and holding on with his fingertips, so too would he redirect Patagonia in an instant when he sensed something was off. And as was the case when he was a climber, he usually made the right move.

Then Chouinard would begin the lesson: “Quality is objective,” he would say, arguing that the coffee beans either were or weren’t excellent. There was no in between. That would get folks going. “Quality is not objective,” some would protest. “It’s a matter of taste.”

The same year “Reality Check” published, Patagonia and Smith & Hawken, another American clothing company, agreed to buy 1 million buttons made from the tagua nut, a type of seed that grows on palm trees in the Ecuadorian rainforest. Polished tagua nuts resemble ivory and were a popular material for buttons before plastic became ubiquitous. Conservation International helped broker the deal, and Patagonia paid a premium for the nut buttons, accepting the extra cost as a worthwhile trade for using fewer petroleum products. The experiment lasted just a year. By 1992, the buttons were cracking, and Patagonia recalled the items that featured tagua. It turned out there was a reason plastic buttons had become the norm.

Another time, after a trip to Japan, Chouinard demanded that the company begin stocking a type of eco-friendly Japanese fishing shoe called Reef Walkers. McDivitt protested, arguing that they would never sell. Chouinard pulled rank and demanded that she place an order. McDivitt relented, but before doing so took out a black marker and wrote, in graffiti on the rafters above her desk, “My boss made me buy 20,000 pairs of Reef Walkers.” Then she made Chouinard sign it. Chouinard got his way, and Patagonia ordered the Reef Walkers. But McDivitt was right: the shoes didn’t sell. (The graffiti is still there.)

In the end, the lesson was clear. If a product doesn’t work and needs to be replaced right away, there’s no way it can be considered good for the environment; if it doesn’t last, there’s no way it can be sustainable. “Durability and high quality are key elements to environmental responsibility,” Stanley said. “The world doesn’t need a lot more crappy products.” But before Chouinard could double down on Patagonia’s quality, he would have to let go of the business that got him started.

Chouinard would dig in his heels. “No,” he would say. “It’s about consistency. It’s about a product fulfilling its function.” He pressed his students, challenging them to define a perfect shirt. If someone suggested it was a custom-tailored, Italian dress shirt made from the finest cotton, Chouinard would scoff. How would that shirt hold up in a washing machine? How long would it last? A delicate shirt couldn’t be considered quality. These lessons divided the staff—designers who obsessed over every stitch appreciated Chouinard’s unwavering stance, while executives who saw the world in units sold thought he was being too aspirational. But with the esoteric lessons, Chouinard was trying to transmit to his employees the same fixation on quality that had for so long animated him. Unless Patagonia’s jackets and shorts and pants and fleeces worked perfectly, the company might as well not make them at all.

The gamble quickly paid off. Customers bought into the environmental messaging, and within a few months, Patagonia was able to raise the prices of the organic garments to cover all its additional costs. One of Chouinard’s core beliefs—that consumers would pay for quality—had been validated at the very moment it mattered most. And in doing so, Patagonia had made a statement to the industry: conventional cotton, despite being cheap and easy to procure, was a poisonous fabric that could be abandoned without imperiling the business. “The difference between an organic cotton field and a conventional cotton field is night and day, life and death,” Olsen said.

Patagonia’s efforts to remake its supply chain in a more environmentally friendly manner culminated in 1997, when the company hosted its first-ever conference for suppliers in Ventura. Flying in farmers, spinners, ginners, dyers, and stitchers from around the globe, the company spent days schooling its network of commercial partners on its unorthodox philosophy and drilling into them the idea that for Patagonia, preserving the natural world was a core value. That alone was a revolutionary assertion. For most suppliers, their primary value was profits—they were in business to get paid; not much more, not much less. Inasmuch as any of them thought of an end customer, it was perhaps Patagonia the company or maybe Patagonia’s customers. None of them thought it was the planet.

For days, Patagonia executives challenged the company’s suppliers, pressing them to think more expansively about their role. Between surf breaks and barbecues, suppliers were presented with detailed assessments of how their individual industries were polluting the environment and then sorted into breakout groups to brainstorm ways they might improve their processes. “We’ve spent the last ten or fifteen years with all of you talking about quality,” Sweeney, who was instrumental in organizing the event, told the suppliers. “We now need to talk about the quality of life on Earth.”

The complaints didn’t bother Chouinard. The company wasn’t making weapons or ammunition, he reasoned. It was simply making clothing. “Bras don’t kill people,” Chouinard said. “People kill people.” Besides, he was a veteran himself, having served in Korea. He could sympathize with the plight of the grunt who already had to endure the petty indignities and grueling monotony of army life. That was bad enough; why not at least make him comfortable? As a seasoned mountaineer, he also knew how important it was to have the right kind of clothes in foul weather environments. And while he had grown up speaking French, he was a lifelong American and a patriot, grateful to have 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. “I had no qualms about any of that,” he said. “I want our troops to be comfortable, and we make the most comfortable clothing for hot and cold conditions. So that was it.”

It was just the four of them. Yvon and Malinda Chouinard. Doug and Kris Tompkins. As the calendar flipped from ’03 to ’04, they roamed the Chacabuco Valley in the Chilean backcountry, piloting a four-wheel drive truck through alien terrain marked by geothermal springs, red rivers, and black lakes. This was land that the Tompkinses were angling to buy. A 173,000-acre parcel virtually untouched by humans was on the market, and they knew that securing it could help fulfill what had become their overarching dream: creating a national park that would protect one of the greatest landscapes in South America.

And when it comes to fossil fuels, Patagonia limits the use of single-use plastics when it can, but there is no way to ship its wares around the world without burning huge amounts of jet fuel, shipping fuel, and gasoline. Its factories also continue to wrap many items in individual plastic bags. The company has made great strides since it began its environmental journey so many years ago, and yet with every step it takes forward, it finds new problems it must address. Even after a half century’s work, Chouinard understood that the elusive goal of a business that was actually good for the planet remained out of reach. “Patagonia is not a sustainable company,” he said. “There’s no such thing. I look at our philanthropy as not charity but as the cost of doing business.”

Was Chouinard satisfied? After so many years, so many close calls, so much gained and so much lost, so much given away, was he at 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 said. “I’ve never been a micromanager. I’m the company philosopher. I’m the entrepreneur that comes up with crazy ideas. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t. But I feel a big relief that I’ve put my life in order. And now I’m going to work on making everything simpler and simpler for myself.”

Those intertwined benefits—good for farmers, good for the planet—explain why Lightfoot is one of the country’s biggest champions of kernza, using it in the beers and pastas sold under the Patagonia Provisions brand. “The mission of Patagonia is to save our home planet, which is a beautifully simple mission,” he said as we sipped a kernza lager under the stars. “And if you think about all the different ways that the business can help fulfill that mission, food is the most important lever that Patagonia can pull.”

And yes, the company needed to be profitable. On this front, Patagonia was set up for success. It had no long-term debt, no antsy investors, no greedy shareholders. Customers were more stoked about the brand than ever, thanks in part to Chouinard’s own story and the activism and the conservation. It just had to keep hitting those roughly 10 percent margins and there would be ample resources for Holdfast each year.

Quality was the tough one. Chouinard wanted the company to double down on its craftsmanship. Not just the stitching and the blend of its fabrics, but the sustainability of its materials, the ethics of its suppliers, all of it. Unless Patagonia kept pushing itself to be more responsible, what was the point? “We’re not a perfect company,” he said. “But at least we’re recognizing it, and we’re doing something about it.”

And it was undeniable that with its focus on sustainable business, the activism, and the coalition building, Patagonia had made an impact well beyond Ventura. The company may not be able to singlehandedly change capitalism, but Chouinard’s fingerprints are all over the business world. When companies take better care of their employees, when they provide childcare, when they let employees be themselves in the office, that is the legacy of Patagonia. When corporations push their vendors to treat their workers well, when they try to root out toxic materials in the supply chain, when they do the right thing even when it costs a bit more, there, too, is the legacy of Chouinard. When CEOs take a stand, talk back to the president, and encourage customers to vote, that’s in part Patagonia’s doing, too. And then there were the national parks in Chile and Argentina, all the sustainability groups Patagonia had cofounded, the 1% for the Planet grants, the ownership change, and now the money flowing from Holdfast.

[Sarah · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wanted to read this so bad and then I couldn’t wait for it to end. Literally took me a whole month because I never wanted to pick it up. So boring.

[Caroline Wilson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well-written and fascinating. Makes me want to be a better person

[Karen Ashley · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75 stars-if you have already read Let My People Go Surfing by Yvon Chouinard, you can jump to about the 60% mark for new information about the Patagonia company.

[Beth Androme · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is SUCH a great read and such an interesting story. I really like Patagonia as a company and now I know why. And it's so good to hear about this kind of CEO when there are so many greedy, evil ones. Glad I'm reading this. Recommend!

[Don Heiman · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Dirtbag Billionaire” by David Gelles
In 2025 Simon & Schuster released a biography about how Yvon Chouinard built wonderfully successful companies dedicated to environmental preservation and social values. The companies featured food, apparel, and products for use in mountain climbing, surfing, and many other related outdoor activities. Ivan’s companies were very successful and Yvan became a billionaire. He did not want to be a “billionaire” and he gave the money all away and sought to return to the activities of being an dirtbag-using outdoorsman. The book is titled “Dirtbag Billionaire.” Yvon was born on November 9, 1938 in Lewiston, Maine and in 1946 he and his brother Gerald Conrad and their parents moved to Burbank in Southern California. Gerald was born in September 1923. When he was a teenager Yvon fell in love with the liberation of climbing precipices. While climbing he spent nights sleeping on the ground in his “dirtbag.” For him climbing was an act of rebellion anchored to the freedom to explore and to not be controlled by the economics of eating and drinking. Climbing was more than a sport for Yvon. It was a way of life, a complete freedom to explore, and a way to tightly bond with nature. While climbing cliffs in California he discovered that steel pitons (spikes) could be made to make his climbing easier. He then began making and selling his pitons and carabiners to climbers he met in the mountains. The sales were many and they were very profitable. When he wasn’t climbing, Yvan developed an interest in surfing. This interest motivated him to design and build custom surf boards. The surf boards he made became very popular among his surfing friends. In 1962 he was drafted into the military. During the brief time he served in the army he worked as a mechanic. While in the military he developed a life long friendship with Doug Tompkins who came from a wealthy family and had a passion for starting business when his military duty time was over. He like Yvan was a mountain climber and dirt-bagger. He started a business named Espirit. The business manufactured and retailed clothing apparel. The business was very successful. When their military service was over Doug and Yvan moved to San Francisco. Yvan then started an implement manufacturing and apparel firm he named Patagonia. His firm made gear for mountain climbing, fishing, surfing, and outdoor apparel. They both amassed a large amount of wealth. Yvan revised the design of his mountain climbing gear and in 1972 he outsourced manufacturing carbines and crampons along with his ice picks. He then created a new company he named “The Great Pacific Iron Works” for the manufacture of more advanced climbing items along with fishing and surfing gear . The clothing merchandise stayed in the Patagonia company.

In 1970 Yvan married Malinda Pennies who was a high school teacher who quit her job and took employment in Yvan’s Chouinard equipment company They had two children —a son named Fletcher and a daughter named Claire. Yvan and Malinda had two homes —a home on Faria Beach in Ventura and a second home that was a log cabin in Moose Wyoming abutting Snake Creek and close to Grand Teton National Park. Patagonia Apparel crafted beautiful sports jackets in colors and synthetic pile materials which became very popular. The company also made sweaters and polypropylene underwater. In only two years sales escalated from $250,000 to $2 million+ per year. In 1979 exhausted by the stress of running two companies Yvan Chouinard turned over the CEO operations of the apparel company to Kristine (Kris) McDivitt . The firm “Madden Mills” discovered the value of using polyester to make outdoor clothing. The owner partnered with Yvan and his Patagonia Apparel company CEO Kris McDivitt to use polyester in their outdoor garments. The initiative increased Patagonia Apparel sales and profits soared.

In 1989 Yvan’s equipment company became involved in law suits that accuse the company of manufacturing outdoor climbing gear that caused user injuries. In response to the growing number of legal attacks Yvan sold the firm to an enterprise that was renamed “Black Diamond.” At the time of sale Yvan was also very concerned that his apparel firm was using materials that were harmful to the climate and were contributing to non-eco friendly pollution. Doug Tompkins also had the same concerns about his Espirit apparel company. In the late 1980s Yvan and Dewitt opened a new store in Boston. When the clothing stock arrived at the store the store employees became very sick. Quickly after the opening, Yvan and his team discovered the firms clothing was putting off toxic formaldehyde gasses which were being dispersed through the store’s air conditioning system. The gasses were the cause of the employee sicknesses. To solve the the problem Patagonia Apparel moved the products to 100% organic cotton and reduced their product line from 166 items to 91. When Dewitt retired her CEO replacement was Dave Olsen who took on the organic cotton conversion project. In 1994 Kris Dewitt left Patagonia Apparel and married Doug Tompkins. Tvan replaced her with his chief financial officer Alison May and gave May the title “general manager.” After 3 years she resigned and became the Chief Operating Officer of Espirit. Yvan hired Dave Olden to replace her. David worked many years for a wind, solar, and battery systems firm. He was told by Yvan to.,” wake this company (Patagonia Apparel) up.” Sales had plateaued at $150 million a year under May’s leadership. Dave Olden opened a new distribution center in Reno, started new product lines, opened many new retail outlets, and began mail order sales and catalog initiatives. In a few years sales increased to over $ 220 million per year. When he left Patagonia to take another leadership position, the apparel company went through many more executive leaders.

In 2015 on a kayaking accident in Chile Doug Tompkins died from hyperthermia in a kayaking accident during a very violent storm. In 2017 Forbes magazine published Yvan Chouinard name on their listings of billionaires. Fo Yvan being on the billionaire was not a badge of honor according to David Gelles in chapter 10 of his “Dirtbag Billionaire” book. Gelles wrote that being on the Forbes billionaire list was “a nightmare” for Yvan who loathed being on a list of “greaseball businessmen.” It was a list of “moguls” in Yvans view and he wanted Forbes to remove his name from the list. He never wanted to be proclaimed a billionaire. Yvan’s family owned shares in the company worth over $3 billion dollars. He and his family family began working on a strategies to stay involved in Patagonia while at the same time that began discussions about “offloading” the firm’s stock. In 2021 they called their strategy sessions “Project Chacabuco.” The discussions looked at many different options such as moving the company headquarters to another country, or create a charitable corporation for distributing corporate earnings, or selling the firm and gifting the money to environmental initiatives organizations. The biweekly meetings also had intense discussions about philosophical and existential topics for disbursing corporate earnings. These meetings and discussions went on for two years. They then decided to donate corporate proceeds to a private foundation which would then sell company shares over time to environmental groups who would gift the money to charities. They also decided to establish a charitable trust funded by the sale of the company. In December 2021 the family and advisers met to make final arrangements.

In August 2022 they authorized “the transfer of all the corporate shares to the Holdfast Collective and the Patagonia Purpose Trust. One moment Yvan and Malinda were the sole owners of a private corporation that they could have sold for $6 billion; the next moment they were not.” One month after The documents were signed by Chouinard and Malinda. These arrangements were revealed to the rest of the company and to the world. In the first year of operation Holdfast gave out $61 million in 690 grants. The grants focused on conservation operations protecting 162,710 acres of wilderness around the world. There were also grants to address climate change to reduce pollutants, and small grants were given to grassroots environmental social justice groups to mention a few.

Spiritual connection with nature, running companies that produce natural natural food products produced and sell by a new firm named Patagonia Provisions were key initiatives. The book is full of many surprising events and often thought provoking. (L)

[Jorie Pollard · Rating 3 out of 5]

A good audiobook. Did some cool things but also for all the good he does he still seems to come off as pretentious so i did get tired of listening to an entire book about him

[Scout · Rating 5 out of 5]

I didn’t know how much impact Yvon Chouinard had on the US conservation movement, corporate environmentalism, and so much more — though as I read, it felt like putting together a puzzle of my own environmental knowledge and awareness with the missing pieces of how he was/is involved.

From eating cat food to becoming a billionaire only to give all his money away to various environmental nonprofits through overtime shares of Patagonia, learned a lot about what it takes to do right by the planet in a capitalistic setting.

Also, had NO idea that he founded 1% of the Planet. 👏

Or that his BFF started The North Face. Corporate besties (but really susty climbing besties)

Though factual, biographical, and written by such a prominent NYT climate reporter, the book reads almost like traditional fiction — denouement, conflict, drama, death, resolution, and all. Chouinard is depicted as a flawed human and leader, striving for perfection with lots to learn along the way. Thoroughly enjoyed.



P.S. drinking a bottle of soy sauce won’t get you out of a war draft in case it comes to that.

[Harrison Drummer · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found this book a bit meh. I found parts very boring, going over boring facts. Not enough juicy reading.
The owner himself seems like a douche. It was interesting listening about how the company did strive to be different though, but then it sells upmarket clothing for wealthy people.

[NAF NC · Rating 5 out of 5]

In an era of crypto crashes, tech layoffs, and CEOs torching billions while preaching "efficiency," this book feels like a glass of cold water in the desert.

While Zuckerberg asks us to live in the metaverse and Musk promises Mars colonies, Yvon Chouinard built a billion-dollar company by... caring about actual rocks. Real ones. That climbers touch with their hands. The contrast couldn't be more stark—or more refreshing.

"Dirtbag Billionaire" isn't just another business book; it's a sanity check for anyone exhausted by the "move fast and break things" ethos that's left us with broken social media, broken democracy, and a broken planet. Chouinard didn't disrupt anything—he just made jackets that didn't fall apart.

He didn't chase unicorn valuations—he let employees skip work to go surfing. He didn't exit with an IPO—he gave the whole company to the Earth.

What makes this relevant to YOU, even if you'll never run a company? It's proof that you don't have to sell your soul to succeed. That quality still matters in a world of planned obsolescence. That you can tell your boss the meeting can wait because the waves are good (okay, maybe not literally, but the principle stands). That choosing meaning over money isn't naive—it might actually be the smartest long-term strategy.

The book is brutally honest about contradictions: Yes, Patagonia sells $150 fleeces to people who mostly wear them to Whole Foods. Yes, even sustainable businesses contribute to overconsumption. But rather than paralysis, these contradictions fuel constant improvement. In our current age of corporate greenwashing and empty virtue signaling, this willingness to admit imperfection while still trying is revolutionary.

The timing of this book is perfect. As AI threatens to automate everything, as young workers revolt against hustle culture, as we all question what "success" even means anymore—here's a story about a college dropout who built something that actually matters. Not an app that makes you anxious, not a platform that sells your data, but clothes that last decades and a company culture that treats people like humans.

My favorite detail? When Patagonia discovered their best-selling product was destroying the rock faces climbers loved, they killed it overnight. Imagine Zuckerberg discontinuing Instagram because it harms teenage mental health. You can't, right? That's the difference.

For anyone feeling trapped between soulless corporate jobs and impossible economic pressures, this book offers a third way. Not everyone can give away a billion-dollar company, but we can all question whether the way we're told to work and live is the only way.

Fair warning: You'll finish this book wanting to quit your job and start something meaningful. Or at least take a very long lunch break when the weather's nice. Both are probably good instincts.

[Serge Perrin Merinos · Rating 4 out of 5]

David Gelles’s Dirtbag Billionaire is a revelatory biography that perfectly complements Yvon Chouinard's manifesto, Let My People Go Surfing (that I just finished reading), by providing the crucial inside story and proof of concept for Patagonia’s radical vision.
Gelles succeeds in delivering a book that reads like an adventure thriller, chronicling how Chouinard—the legendary "dirtbag" climber—built a billion-dollar company driven by environmental activism, not cutthroat capitalism. Using exclusive access, the book details the unorthodox decisions that defined Patagonia, such as its early 1% Earth tax and its willingness to kill best-selling products that harmed the environment. This narrative establishes Patagonia as a singular beacon for socially responsible business, proving that profit and planet need not be enemies.
The book excels by not shying away from Patagonia’s inherent contradictions: how a company that decries consumerism sells expensive gear to Wall Street traders, and how its own carbon footprint grew with its success. Gelles views these paradoxes as a feature, not a bug, presenting them as an honest blueprint for imperfect ethical business and continuous struggle for improvement.
Chouinard concluded his legacy with an unprecedented, defining move in 2022, renouncing his wealth and donating the entire company to fight the climate crisis, thus fundamentally reframing philanthropy. The book is certainly a powerful antidote to the "move fast and break things" ethos, contrasting sharply with the tech world by showing that choosing meaning over money is the smartest long-term strategy.
However, some areas of analysis could be richer. The book focuses heavily on environmental heroics, but a deeper dive into unionization tensions (like the 2020 Reno efforts) and more detail on supply-chain reforms in Global South factories would round out its social justice portrait. Additionally, there was recently a reported perceived decline in product quality, highlighting the essential dilemma the company faces in balancing its noble ambition with day-to-day challenges. Overall, this is a stimulating read for anyone seeking an enduring model for rewriting capitalism's DNA.

[Sebastian Gebski · Rating 3 out of 5]

On one hand, not every founding story has to be interesting and resemble a thriller movie. On the other hand, if it's not - why bother writing a book about it? That's what I was thinking, while I was reading "Dirtbag Billionaire" - a book that feels rather like a manifesto of Patagonia and its values, than a story about the company itself: how it came to life, what is the source of it success, what were its pivotal moments and where it's heading.

What I liked:
- this is not a mindless praise of Yvon Chouinard; he's presented rather fairly, with both his advantages and flaws
- the author clearly admires the mission of Patagonia and doesn't question its activist background, but he also doesn't claim it's a perfect company - in fact, he shows what didn't/doesn't work here and what are the disadvantages of working for Patagonia
- some insider stories very really interesting (e.g., about employees suffering from fumes or cooperation with Walmart) - I just want to believe this is a fairly objective choice, not only the ones handled properly :)
- last but not least - I like making it clear that values are values, but this is still BUSINESS

What I did NOT like:
- there's very little on the business foundations of Patagonia's business - its unit economics, how it manages to strive in a very competitive market; all that we know is that this brand is heavily associated with sustainability, so eco-aware middle-class+ choses Patagonia for that reason, ignoring relatively high prices ("Pata-gucci")
- there's very little "in-contra" when it comes to what Patagonia is doing? I mean - the author doesn't try to make a deep dive and verify: did Patagonia's actions change anything noticeable? are they really making any visible difference? is their activism effective? or maybe there's a better way?

Just to summarize:
No, it's not an interesting book. I would rather call it "mildly boring". But I appreciate it's something more than just a marketing and building a monument for a successful founder.

[Chaffon · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Simplification of means and elevation of ends is the goal.”

“Using organically grown cotton doesn’t do the world any good. It just does less harm.”

“Leading an examined life was fraught with inconveniences.”

“Chouinard still believed that social change happened not as the result of grandiose actions by great men but through gritty acts of defiance from everyday people.”

I’ve had a quiet fascination with Patagonia for years — not just the brand, but the way they approach business. This book lays it out clearly: turning passion into profit without losing your values, rethinking the American Dream, and actually unpacking what sustainable fashion means beyond marketing language. And because I’ve worked in sustainability communications at a heritage brand (which, according to the book, tried to acquire Patagonia in ’94), the supply-chain details, material sourcing, and end-to-end process weren’t surprising to me. If anything, it reminded me how intentional and disciplined responsible production really is.

One thing I didn’t love was Chouinard essentially encouraging eco-terrorism and trying to frame it as activism. I get the frustration with the system, but that part didn’t sit right with me.

What I did find compelling is the tension Patagonia leans into — benefitting from capitalism while also challenging the parts that cause harm. I’m definitely pro-capitalist, but I’m also a bit of a closet environmentalist, so Yvon’s approach of working within the system without letting it own him feels refreshing and honestly inspiring.

I can’t say I loved Gelles’s writing style, but the story itself is worth reading. It’s honest, it’s layered, and it makes you think about what “doing good” actually means in a world built on convenience.

(Em dashes are human generated 😊)

[TomVMorris · Rating 5 out of 5]

A page turner of a book! Yeah. Really. To the END. David Gelles has quickly become my favorite author of business books. And I'm an author of many such books, including stuff like If Aristotle Ran General Motors. I'm sure that with his new desk at the New York Times, moving to environment, he will quickly become my favorite author of environmental books. He's that compelling a writer. I've long believed that a business should be viewed not as a money machine but as an engine for human good. And David's earlier book The Man Who Broke Capitalism was a deep dive into critiquing the opposite perspective that recently confirmed my views completely and compellingly. I remember when I was just a third into that book telling my wife that this man is one of the best prose stylists ever, a compelling story teller and author.When I started Dirtbag Billionaire, could tell immediately that it's the same top quality prose and thought plus a notch up, as if that's possible. David isn't just going to razz the bad and cheer the good, but give an astute analysis of what's bad or good, or both, that you'll love reading. Get this book! Give it to friends! I'm so glad David wrote it. I've watched him in action in person lead a panel discussion and greatly admire how his mind works. Here, you see it on full display. Five Stars, wishing for more stars. After finishing this one, I got a copy of his first book, so far as I know, Mindful Work. And it's great too. This guy is amazing. Warning: if you read him, you may end up writing rave reviews like me.

[Meredith · Rating 3 out of 5]

A better title for this book would be Contradictory Capitalist, as Yvon Chouinard built Patagonia to have divergent desires, both for its people and its products:

"Chouinard wanted his workers to be happy but also hard charging. He wanted to be generous but also stay in control. He wanted Patagonia to be lean but also abundant. He wanted the company to be profitable but also charitable. He wanted a small business with a big impact. In trying to run a responsible company, Chouinard had created an unsolvable paradox" (page 167).

"Sure, Patagonia was fighting to protect the environment. But with every fleece, T-shirt, and backpack it made, it was taking a toll on the planet it was trying to save. It still used virgin plastic made from fossil fuels heating up the globe. Some products still included PFAS, the forever chemicals poisoning the groundwater, people, and animals. Its supply chain was riddled with questionable labor practices" (page 227).

Making "more than $1 billion a year in sales" (page 262), with short-tenured CEOs and partnerships with the Pentagon and Walmart, I'm less impressed with the self-professed "white-led outdoor company reliant on recreation on stolen Native lands that are not yet safe for all" (page 231) than I was before I read the book.

"We're not a perfect company," Chouinard admits. "But at least we're recognizing it, and we're doing something about it" (page 277).

[Joel Gray · Rating 4 out of 5]

PERFECTION IS FINALLY ATTAINED NOT WHEN THERE IS NO LONGER ANYTHING TO ADD, BUT WHEN THERE IS NO LONGER ANYTHING TO TAKE AWAY.

A dirtbag climber is an outdoorsman so uninterested in material possessions they are happy to sleep in the dirt.

Material possessions never mattered much to his parents, and they would never matter much to Chouinard either.

I use everything unit it completely falls apart.

100% owned Patagonia since 1975 when Chouinard's bought Frost out.

Chouinard Equipment filed for bankruptcy protection in 1989 and employees bought the company. Legal bills were hurting profits. Renamed company Black Diamond.

Chouinard was running Patagonia the way he was to demonstrate that capitalism didnt have to be so awful.

By the late 1990s he was giving away >$1m pa, insisting the grants go to the general operating fund rather than specific projects. Unrestricted giving is relatively rare in philanthropic circles but it is just what non-profits need.

I see god as nature in the very simplest terms (Tompkins).

Chouinard said he got a call from Buffett to buy Patagonia.

In 8/22 Chouinards tranferred their shares to the Patagonia Purpose Trust (valued at $6b)