It’s one of those rare weekends when I’m home alone. CB is
off camping. I have plans with the grand kids, but that is hours away. I start a
load of laundry and pull out the ironing board.
Ironing used to be a chore I detested, but as I have gotten
older I find it can be relaxing.
My mom never seemed to mind ironing either.
There is something therapeutic about getting rid of wrinkles without a
facelift.
But I remember mom seemed to enjoy pressing clothes even
when she was younger. I can still imagine her in the kitchen sprinkling water on a mountain of laundry. These were the days before steam irons. She filled an empty 7-up bottle with water,
placed a little gizmo on the top, shook the bottle, and dampened the clothes
with it. But rather than ironing right then and there, she would put the
clothes in a bag and stick them in the refrigerator. Later she would pull them
out and iron away. I remember wondering why she did this. It always seemed a
little odd to me, but I knew if I challenged her wisdom, or complained that my
blouses smelled like cauliflower, I would be pressing my own clothing. So I
kept my mouth shut.
But I was still cynical. I thought ironing was a big waste
of time. Who cared about a few wrinkles, or whether or not your pleated skirt
had perfect creases? But when I complained about it, my friend Maria was
unsympathetic. She was the youngest of six kids and her job was to iron the
clothing for all the family members who still lived at home. That included
Maria, her mom, dad and brother, Joey. Mrs. Hernandez thought everything should
be pressed – from doilies to sheets. Imagine my horror when I learned Maria was
even expected to iron her brother’s blue jeans. Now mind you, this was decades
before designer jeans, and Joey worked in construction. But that didn’t matter.
Maria ironed his jeans and Joey went off to his job looking clean, fresh and
pressed.
My disdain of ironing was shared by a cousin in the
Hernandez family, who ironically, was also named Sally. She would hang out her
clothes (few people had clothes dryers in those days – at least in sunny
Arizona). But Sally laundered with a twist. After the clothes were on the line
she would get out the hose, squirt the
wrinkles out of the clothing, and let them dry (and stiffen) in the sun. I
think this story was relayed to me as a cautionary tale, but I thought the idea
was ingenious.
The next time I took my clothes out to hang on the line, I
gave them a hose bath. The water is so hard in Arizona that it also acted as a
type of starch. When the clothes dried, they were so rigid they could
practically stand on their own. I did this for a year. But all good things must
come to an end.
After high school I married a Navy sailor. When he reported
for work, even in dungarees, he had to report looking spiffy. An improperly
pressed pair of dungarees could result in ramifications in the wrinkle-free
Navy, so I did my best to make sure John would pass inspection. He always did.
But when the Navy introduced cotton/polyester blend clothing that resisted
wrinkles – let’s just say that was a happy day for a lot of sailors and their
spouses.
After John was honorably discharged, my iron got a
well-earned rest. Clothes were easier to care for. More people (myself included)
had a clothes dryer. And as long as you didn’t leave your clothes in the washer
or dryer overnight (oops) chances were good your clothing would not be a big crumpled
mess. Three cheers for polyester!
Fast forward a few decades. I divorced, held a few different
jobs, and then started my own company, Marks Public Relations. In an effort to
save money and be more environmentally responsible, I went back to hanging my
clothes out to dry. I admit it, if you hang your clothes on a clothesline,
chances are they are going to look more crumpled. But that didn’t matter to me. Except
when I had to go to a meeting or needed to accompany a client for an appearance
at the TV station, I didn’t have to look nice and crisp. In fact, I mostly sat barefoot
in front of my home computer churning out press releases, media pitches, and
scripts looking a bit rumpled. But things changed.
I learned of a great public relations position at Royal
Neighbors of America. I wrote a good cover letter, successfully made it past
the pre-screening process and three additional interviews, and was offered the
position! I was (and am) very happy.
But working in a professional environment again means I had
to make a wardrobe adjustment. I have traded my craggy attire for a more
professional look. Even on business casual days (Thursday and Friday) I make
sure my shirts – and yes even my blue jeans – are pressed. A little ironing is
a small price to pay to work at a job I love. I don’t regret my decision one
iota. And I bet Maria and Mrs. Hernandez would be happy to know I launder
without the hose. It took more than 40 years, but I’ve finally mended my
wrinkled ways.
