It was like a scene out of Leave it to Beaver, except that instead of a shirtdress and heels, I was wearing sweatpants and bare feet.
Sometimes, I grimace at this little scene of traditional gender roles and wonder how, exactly, did I get here?
I rarely ever ironed before last year; I didn't even own an iron until I started sewing and found it to be distressingly large part of any sewing project. Ironing my clothes never really crossed my mind as I spent my twenties sampling pretty much every job you can do in elastic waist stretch pants: massage therapist, dancer, pilates instructor, grant writer, personal assistant. When clothes shopping, I put clothes back on the rack when I noticed they were dry clean only because WHY?
My husband's current workplace has no real dress code, I mean they are a bunch of scientists after all. But he likes to wear button downs to work, usually with jeans. With my help, he's acquired a decent roster of button down shirts that look good on him.
Except right out of the dryer, when they are hopelessly wrinkled.
I first noticed it a few years ago. I am in charge of all things laundry in our house, and even if I was diligent about getting them out of the dryer the moment they were dry, they were always quite wrinkled. He didn't care so what's the big deal?.
It didn't hit me that maybe I should do something about it until I met him at work one day and saw him talking to his boss. In a horribly wrinkled shirt.
Well. That's just not okay.
So I guessed we could send them out? To be dry cleaned? Or washed and pressed? Is that a thing?
Investigating just how much money it would cost to send out his shirts every week convinced me to bust out the ironing board and get to work.
Suddenly his shirts looked SO MUCH BETTER. OMG. WHO KNEW?
So it's a regular thing now. I set up the ironing board once a week and plow through them. It usually takes about an hour. I'm saving us money, just like when I wash the dog with a hose instead of taking her to be "groomed" or cook in instead of eating out.
And I still do it all in elastic waist pants, with my feminist pride mostly intact. Many friends have commented on my ironing as if picking up the clothes iron means I simultaneously dropped all my feminist ideals. I didn't. I am responsible for laundry in our home, reasonably wrinkle-free clothing is part of my expectation when any member of our family leaves the house, ERGO I iron.
But a revelation came last week, when my husband ordered this online:
|That's love right there.|
I feel so stupid admitting this but I had NO IDEA they even made wrinkle free shirts that weren't.... horrible. TIME TO SHOP.