I don't know about you but I truly
adore anything perfectly pressed.
And the more starch, the better!
From sheets to table linens to shirts,
there is little more satisfying than
the sight of something properly
ironed. I cannot tell you why it
gives me such a thrill except that
crisp, smooth linens subtly scream
elegance, restraint, and that one has
had a proper rearing. As a survivor
of Dacron and double knits, I can
only find comfort in 100% cotton!
As a young executive one wore
a suit, shirt, and tie daily. If
you wanted to be held in high
esteem, you sent your shirts out.
Initially I had them folded and
boxed. Feeling that the crisply
ironed folds communicated that
my shirts had been washed and
ironed professionally. Later on
I opted to not look like a stuffed
shirt and switched to hanger
hung. Somehow smooth versus
creased just felt less uptight.
I'll never forget our laundry man,
Mr. Hong. Located in a building
over one hundred years old, he
and his equipment seemed to be
about the same vintage. While
nobody pressed a shirt better,
what I appreciated most about
Mr. Hong was his gently kind
manner. Suddenly a sign was
hung in the window announcing
Mr. Hong's death. When I went
to pick up my final shirts, I cried.
You see... he was my friend.
When it comes to my table linens,
I'm a horrific snob. Nobody seems
to do them as well as me. Over the
years we've sent them out to local
ladies but the starch and folds are
never quite right. Part of me wants
to purchase a Mangle Iron for the
Passion Pit. You know, those huge
machines that perfectly press your
sheets and tablecloths? How could
there be a more decadent and yet
so practical indulgence? Imagine,
everything smooth as glass!
In the meanwhile I'll have to make
do with ironing them myself. Not
a burden, I actually find the task
quite therapeutic and soothing.
Plus nothing could be as satisfying
as a perfectly pressed linen napkin!
My passion for pressing is so innate
that it must be in my DNA. One of
my daughter "E's" most favorite
childhood memories is of her Dad
ironing, watching old movies, and
setting the table for a dinner party.
And I didn't know I was gay...
