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About the Authors
Copyright Page
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To Granny Dude, who had enough love for the entire world, and I was lucky enough to be in the center of it. —P
AUTHORS’ NOTE
Patric Richardson and Karin B. Miller are not responsible for any damages arising from laundering while under the influence (though a little vodka can go a long way with laundry), using bluing on a white wedding dress, allowing a wool sweater to float openly during a warm-water wash cycle (or alternatively to dry in a dryer), laundering acts of God, etc. The reader assumes sole responsibility for laundry processes. Doing laundry isn’t rocket science, but it is domestic science. The Laundry Evangelist action figure sold separately.
INTRODUCTION
I have a vivid memory from when I was two years old: My great-uncle Quinn is holding me up in the air so that I can gaze down upon my mom’s washing machine, and I am mesmerized by the clothes swimming in circles in the sudsy water.
This is so fascinating to me, in fact, that watching clothes being washed becomes one of my favorite toddler activities. Whenever I visit someone’s house, I ask to inspect the laundry room—I want to see every washing machine. I realize that my neighbors, relatives, and friends have lots of different models: the wringer washer, the Gyratator, the rare locomotive.
While some parents might have found my fascination a bit embarrassing, my mom thought it was hilarious. And so, for my third birthday, she and my dad gave me a kid-size washing machine—and because it was the 1970s, the color was harvest gold. It had a window on top, just like my mom’s (because, let’s face it, my dad didn’t do laundry), and it had a handle on the side that I could crank to make my clothes mimic the action of a real washing machine. I was over the moon.
My love of laundry only deepened as I grew older. I learned how to wash and dry my own clothes before I was ten. In my teens, I taught myself to iron like a picky pro, creating razor-sharp creases in my khakis. And at university, with a love of dry-clean-only clothes while on a college-student budget, I sought out my textile professors to find out if I could wash my wool sweaters and pants myself. (I suspected I could—after all, people had been wearing wool clothing all over the world since long before the invention of dry cleaning.) Yet I never would have imagined that my initial curiosity would lead me to study, explore, and experiment with various methods of caring for clothes, let alone become a laundry expert and the pioneer of a “Laundry Camp” that would help thousands of interested participants.
Now, with decades of experience using conservation washing and drying techniques on everything from vintage designer gowns to my favorite lived-in Levi’s, I’m sharing my professional advice with you in these pages, covering all of my best tips, tricks, and techniques for mastering the art of laundry. My mission is to help you make laundry faster, cheaper, kinder to the environment, and more fun.
I’ll also share stories about many people I love—especially the women who raised me, as they sparked my interest in textiles, taught me how to care for clothes, and showed me love and affection from the time I was small.
So sit back, take a (laundry) load off, and get ready: I’m about to transform your sorting, washing, and drying routines. And, for my big finish, I’ll teach you everything you need to know about removing stains—chocolate! red wine! dog pee!
Remember that pile of dirty clothes on the floor? It’s calling to you! There’s no time like the present—so let’s get started.
MY CAST OF CHARACTERS
With any great Russian novel, you’ll likely find a cheat sheet of characters, reminding you who everyone is, particularly the secondary folks who only pop up every now and then. For Laundry Love, I thought I should do the same, especially since so many of my stories star women. (“Wait a second—who’s Ruby again?”) So, taking my cue from Tolstoy, my list includes personal descriptions; each one’s relationship to myself; and sartorial, or clothing, preferences (of course). Feel free to refer back to the list whenever needed.
Granny Dude: While my mom’s mom’s given name was Irene, I always called her Granny Dude. She was the matriarch of our family and well respected by everyone she knew. This book wouldn’t have happened without her. My love for her is absolute. Think of her as the queen mother.
Mom: Her friends know her as Wilma, but she’s always Mom to me. Mom loves beautiful clothes and beautiful living, she gave me an incredible childhood, and she influenced me in many ways with her sense of style. If you want to know what a true Southern lady looks like, just look her up. She’s like Jackie Kennedy with a Southern drawl.
Nancy: Nancy is married to my dad, but calling her my stepmother sounds cold and impersonal. From the time I met her when I was twelve, she’s been warm and loving. If you visit, she’ll have your favorite food waiting. Think of her as Florence Henderson in the role of Mrs. Brady.
Granny Martha: Old-fashioned and Appalachian, my dad’s mom doted on me and truly would have let me get away with murder. In my mind’s eye, I always think of her in a day dress and an apron, cooking soup beans and corn bread—the stuff of legend. She would have fit in perfectly on The Waltons.
Roberta: I lucked out with Roberta, Nancy’s mom, as well—she was warm like Nancy and I loved her. An upholsterer by trade, she was infinitely talented with fabric and thread, so we shared that passion. The spunky character of Idgie in Fried Green Tomatoes reminds me of Roberta. In a more modern time, she would’ve beaten the heck out of the glass ceiling.
Ibb: Granny Dude's best friend’s name was actually Ibbie—how wonderful is that? Fun and spirited with a mischievous side, she always wore great perfume and made the best red velvet cake—for my birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Combine the personality of Auntie Mame and the style of Aunt Bee of The Andy Griffith Show and you’ve got Ibb.
Ruby: Ruby lived on the other side of the hill from where I grew up, and was sophisticated and worldly. She taught me lessons about style and polish that I still use today. When I first read Truman Capote’s A Christmas Memory, I immediately thought of my relationship with Ruby, but you can think of her as Katharine Hepburn.
Louise: My mom’s middle name is Louise because of this Louise—a friend of Granny Dude and Granddad. Louise treated my mother like a really lucky niece, and I grew up thinking of her as a bonus grandmother. Imagine her like Julie Andrews as Maria von Trapp—but maybe Bea Arthur, too, since Louise could command a room.
The Professors: Three University of Kentucky professors had a profound influence on me. Mrs. Karen Ketch taught fashion and merchandising, had a big laugh, and loved to talk about clothes, fashion, and the runway. Dr. Kim Spillman offered an intellectual approach to apparel and the garment industry, and I learned a great deal from her about why we wear what we wear, which has had a major impact on my approach to dressing. And Dr. Elizabeth Easter knew absolutely everything about textiles, from warp to weft; she opened my eyes to the many uses of fabrics a
nd their care and sparked my obsession with luxury fibers. (I still to this day want a vicuña coat!)
Marion: Ross’s mom (see below for more on Ross) was the daughter of two Sámi parents, who emigrated from Finland to the United States and ended up living in northern Minnesota. While I only knew her for a few years before she passed away, I loved her sense of fun and her mischievous wit.
Finally, there’s one more person I must mention—my love, Ross. Ross is the funny one, the one who allows me to follow my passions, the one who makes me want to do laundry, or bake, or breathe. When I met him in 2005, he told me that I should write a book and, fast-forward, here it is. The book, like my story, isn’t complete without Ross in it. Think of—well, I think of perfection, so you can think of whomever that is to you.
GLOSSARY
acetate: This semisynthetic fabric mimics silk, is used occasionally for party dresses and suit linings, and is made from cellulose (derived from wood pulp). Its downside? Both acetone and high heat can make it melt.
argyle: Originating from Scotland, this pattern of overlapping diamonds shows up on lots of fabrics, but is seen most often on sweaters and colorful socks.
duds: I looked up the origin of this term, which is slang for clothes, and found it’s Middle English. I grew up with this word—am I that old?
dungarees: A charming and old-fashioned term, dungarees is simply another word for jeans.
ikat: This beautiful Indonesian fabric is made by twisting yarns very tightly, tie-dyeing them, and then weaving them into intricate graphic patterns with a variegated finish.
knit: Created by knitting, this textile is flexible and durable, thanks to its looping yarn.
paisley: A Persian pattern of curved teardrop shapes, paisley is commonly used in ties and scarves.
plaid: This pattern of horizontal and vertical bands intersects at right angles. Tartan plaids, like those used to make kilts, are common examples.
vicuña: This fabric is made from the wool of the vicuña, a Peruvian pack animal similar to a llama. The animals are shorn and their wool is made into luxurious yarns that are both incredibly warm and light. Vicuña fabrics are some of the most expensive textiles in the world.
warp: This term refers to the vertical threads in a woven fabric.
weft: This term refers to the horizontal threads in a woven fabric.
woven: This fabric, made by weaving, has both horizontal and vertical threads, and is usually created on a loom. Wovens are usually stronger and less stretchy than knits.
1
Don’t Let Your Clothes Tell You What to Do
Look after your laundry, and your soul will look after itself.
—W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM, PLAYWRIGHT AND NOVELIST
Dry clean only. Wash in cold water. Handwash. Dry flat. Spot-wash only. Blah, blah, blah.
When it comes to cleaning, our clothes are bossy. Their tags bully us into time-sucking techniques, and before we know it, each article of clothing is trying to tell us what to do—and none of it is simple.
It’s time to say goodbye to all that. Soon you’ll know exactly how to care for all your textiles—meaning anything made of cloth, from clothes and bedding to bath towels and table linens—and you’ll be able to do it all at home. Anything, and I mean anything, can be washed at home. And I’m going to teach you how.
When I say “anything,” that includes all your clothes: cashmere sweaters, wool suits, social dresses, and whatever else you can think of. Grandma’s fur coat? Yep. A wedding dress? You bet. Plus pillows, curtains, rugs, and more.
Now, imagine the fluffiest, whitest towels you’ve ever wrapped yourself in. Imagine crawling into bed between peppermint-scented sheets. Imagine finally getting to wear your favorite fill-in-the-blank again after I teach you how to remove its stains. Most important, imagine being able to do all this for yourself and for the ones you love—simply and easily.
That’s the promise of this book: It will transform laundry—that chore you previously tolerated, or perhaps hated—into something you enjoy, look forward to, maybe even love. And for those of you who, like me, already love laundry, I promise you’ll love it even more.
Did I mention this book is basically free? That’s because you’ll never pay those whopping dry-cleaning bills again if you follow my advice. Plus, you’ll save loads of time—and time is money, so you’ll have even more money in your pocket. Unless, of course, you really want to pack up your clothes, wait in line to drop them off, remember to pick them up, wait in line again to pick them up, haul them back home (hoping a few don’t slide to the floor on the way)—all the while paying a pretty penny for the privilege of doing so. Think of all that cash you’ll save—every month, every year—by eliminating this errand. Cha-ching!
Now, let’s say you have a significant other and a couple of kids. You’re likely running seven loads of clothes every week at roughly an hour and twenty-five minutes per washed-and-dried load. That adds up to a grand total of ten hours. Ten hours a week!
I’ll slash that time to four hours and ten minutes just once a week—less than half of what the average family currently spends doing their laundry. What are you going to do with all that extra time? Write a novel? Open a new business? Nap? Think of the options!
Included in that calculation of saved time is the spot-cleaning I teach in this book, which adds just five minutes, at most, per load. Your stains will disappear, your clothes will be cleaner, and you’ll wear them more often. Most people don’t spot-treat stains—they just hope for the best. And hope, as they say, is not a strategy.
OK, so you’re saving piles of money and lots of time. What else is there to offer?
Well, my washing tips will wow you. For example, how about those old jeans you love so much that are too faded to wear beyond your front door? You can rescue them: Mix a tablespoon of good, old-fashioned bluing in a basin of warm water, and then let your jeans soak overnight. The denim will drink up the bluing, and presto! You’ve just salvaged your jeans. (Not quite blue enough yet? Just repeat the process, little by little, for the best results, until your jeans are just the way you like them.)
There are many more great tips to come. Most important, the advice I share in these pages will simplify your laundry life, and maybe even your actual life. Because the last thing we need to do is to complicate our busy, overcommitted lives even further. Easy peasy is my mantra.
My Love Language
Let me give you a bit of background.
The first real garment I ever owned was a camel hair overcoat purchased by my mom. It boasted a fur collar and a matching fur hat. Because what else do you buy a three-year-old boy growing up in the heart of Appalachia? My mom still has this extraordinary garment, tucked away in a closet. She bought it at Nasser’s, a fine clothing store in Huntington, West Virginia. I didn’t know it then, but this was likely the beginning of my love affair with textiles.
It was also the start of a childhood, and a life, filled with extraordinary women who taught, inspired, and supported my interests and me from the very beginning. I was incredibly lucky. I lived on a hill dotted with the homes of the first of these women—my mom, of course; my beloved Granny Dude, who lived next door; Ibb, my grandma’s best friend, who indulged me like a favorite grandchild; and our globe-trotting, glamorous neighbor, Ruby. All of them, every last one, doted on me and spoiled me. In truth, through no deserving of my own, I was treated like a little deity.
If I’d loved the violin, they would have signed me up for lessons and clapped at recitals until their hands hurt. If I’d loved football, they would have driven me to practices, cheered me on at games, even chewed out refs who’d dared to make questionable calls.
But I loved clothing, and so they cultivated my passion by taking me shopping, indulging me with fine clothes (for example, a classic pair of brown leather cowboy boots at age three), and teaching me how to care for them.
But what I learned from them were not just the how-tos.
In his books, a
uthor Gary Chapman teaches five “love languages”—ways to express and experience love. Mine is service. That’s what caring for clothes meant for my grandmother, for my mom, and now for me. Far beyond obligation, service is the way I show others love—whether I’m ironing my husband’s shirts, washing our vintage table linens in preparation for a party, or decorating our home for Christmas.
Changing our mindsets from simply cleaning clothes to caring for others is key to changing our attitudes about laundry from drudgery to love. In my free, two-hour Laundry Camps that I run at the Mall of America in Minnesota, I share this philosophy with my campers—that caring for your loved ones’ clothes shows them love. When their clothes are clean, smell wonderful, and look great, your loved ones are going to feel like they can take on the world, and their days are going to be all the brighter. That’s true for you and your clothes as well. And don’t you deserve that?
My Beloved Granny Dude
More than anyone else in my life, Granny Dude (my mom’s mom) helped grow my love of textiles. She appreciated beautiful clothes and relished the opportunity to buy them.
In fact, her sense of style had a profound impact on me—she was modern and fashion forward. And, as I look back, I realize her views on many issues were progressive, too.
A striking woman and always well turned out, as people used to say, she shunned a traditional bridal gown in 1949 (at age nineteen, no less) and instead wore an all-white suit, complete with tie and overcoat, which she purchased at Lazarus department store. I also know that to one funeral, back in the day, Granny Dude wore not a hat but a feather headband.
Obviously, this was a woman who knew herself, liked standing out, and didn’t care what other people thought. In short, she was the perfect role model for a budding snappy dresser such as myself. In my teens, our shared love of clothing—and each other—brought us together for regular Thursday night Chinese dinners and evening shopping trips. We didn’t always buy something, but we were always on the hunt.
Laundry Love Page 1
