Gaiam Somebody! The ethos and 'ethnicity' of Fresh Fields.

'In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations." So sayeth the Great Law of the Iroquois Confederacy.

At least that's what it says on my new roll of Seventh Generation(r) brand toilet paper. Seventh Generation produces "affordable, high quality, safe and environmentally responsible" toilet tissue that helps "keep you, your home and our planet healthy." But fear not! Seventh Generation also promises to "get the job done"-truly a matter of common interest to corporate profiteers and Gaia worshipers alike.

Seventh Generation t.p. can be found at your nearest Fresh Fields Whole Foods Market, America's largest (and fastest growing) retailer of organic, health, and just plain odd foods and other products.

Most critics, notably David Brooks in his trailblazing Bobos in Paradise, see Fresh Fields as a hotbed of Green conspicuous consumption. But when I visited the new Logan Circle Fresh Fields in Washington, D.C., it occurred to me that this phenomenon might involve more than self-conscious liberal posturing and status-seeking: There is a possibility (admittedly bizarre) that the marketers and the consumers alike genuinely believe in this stuff.

The store itself is cleaner than a hospital and better lit than Warren Beatty's forehead. The staff is chipper and helpful. The produce is stacked so delicately you fear the manager will commit seppuku if you jostle the improbable rhomboid stacks of unrecognizable fruits. There are endless bins, bags, and cans of bulk cereals and grains that resemble kitty litter in both taste and touch. Indeed, whole aisles of foodstuffs seem dedicated to the imperatives of bathroom regularity- which may be why Seventh Generation is so forthright in its guarantee of getting the job done.

Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, author of the important 19th-century treatise on dining, The Physiology of Taste, famously quipped, "Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are." Food is a key element of ethnic experience. The consumption of Jewish food, for example, is more than a matter of nutrition or even the observance of religious dietary laws; it is deeply connected to the historical roots and aspirations of the Jewish people.

Consider, then, my box of "Annie's Homegrown Peace Pasta and Parmesan, Totally Natural Macaroni & Cheese." Much of the package celebrates the U.N.'s "Universal Declaration of Human Rights," complete with a nice quote from Kofi Annan: "Human Rights are your rights. Seize them. . . . Promote them. . . . Nourish and enrich them. They are the best in us. Give them life." This appeal to universal humanity often gets a little nebulous, as it converts the entire experience of mankind into a cultural grab bag from which we can pull Chinese aphorisms, Sufi catchphrases, Iroquois legalisms, Greek myths, or anything else that helps ground the human race in a heritage of eco-friendliness. But the clear overall effect is to hammer home the impression that all human beings have a single common Green heritage of which we can be proud.