Here is the essay:

I believe in less. And I believe architects can help make the world better by designing smaller, more efficient buildings that use less land and materials. I'm not talking about stripping away the elements that make buildings beautiful. But I believe we can put our structures together in simpler, even more attractive ways that work with, and not against, nature.

I grew up in a coastal North Carolina farm town called Whiteville. Despite its name, this actually was a racially-mixed town of about 3,000 people.

My father owned a tire-recapping shop. He spent his days grinding out old tires with a buffer in a room where the temperature was about 110 degrees. So Dad helped people re-use their worn-out tires. Most people in this town, including our family, earned a very modest income. Our 'waste not, want not' lifestyle was borne from necessity.

When I was 14 years old, I decided I just had to have this gorgeous navy blue wool V-neck sweater I had seen at Kramer's, the only men's clothing shop in town. Only a few of the luckiest kids owned luxury items like sweaters, but I thought they were the neatest thing. So comfortable and stylish! To earn money for the sweater, I worked in Dad's recapping shop, did yard work, and washed cars.

Right after Christmas, I marched into Kramer's, laid down my hard-earned cash, and bought that sweater on sale for $14.00, which was a lot of money back in 1951. But that sweater felt so good — I was in heaven.

Less than a year later, I was wearing the sweater when I was involved in a terrible automobile accident. I remember begging the doctors and nurses in the Emergency Room to save my sweater.

The sweater didn't make it. But what did endure was the knowledge that all this 'stuff' we cherish really doesn't matter. And that keeping up with the latest fashions — whether it's a sweater, a car, or a new building — is a non-sustainable idea. Whether it's a sweater, a car, or a building, fashion dictates that whatever was "in" one year will be "out" the next. Madison Avenue is barraging us with this constant message that we don't have what we need to lead "the good life." But I don't buy that.

To this day I'm no clotheshorse. Many architects spend more on socks in a year than I do for my entire wardrobe. That same philosophy of less is ingrained in my approach to design.

With construction costs soaring, clients can't afford to throw money at satisfying an architect's whims. And if people want to keep gas in their cars and heat in their homes, they're being forced to cut back on their consumption.

In this crisis I see opportunities. We can't legislate "less" in our culture, but we're at a potential tipping point. This is a perfect time for the 'power of less' message to penetrate the psyche of our people and to even garner a certain cache.

I believe in making buildings better, not bigger. Instead of adding to the clutter, let's be stewards and improve lives. Let's show people that all this stuff isn't required to live "the good life." I believe we can make the idea of using less more fashionable and chic than any wool sweater ever could be.

Can we work together to trigger a cultural shift toward simplicity? If we can, I believe we'll all be happier. And our success will send ripples all over the world.

Source: "This I Believe," NPR.org, 2006. See the essay.