Irony
A local radio talkshow -- a "on the ride home sports show" -- somehow got off on the subject of ironing, and the fact that Denver (CO) apparently rates pretty high for men/women who 'iron' their clothes. If ironing becomes an Olympic sport, that might give Denver an 'edge', but I digress.
At any rate, I can say without hesitation or reservation, that I was not amongst the surveyants.
Puhhlease. If ironing is so in vogue, why were things like 'permanent press', 'wrinkle resistant' and 'wrinkle-free' invented? Where is the appreciation for these innovations?
Guess it's up to me to lead that charge.
I'm a bachelor. If ironing remains a requisite criteria in changing that status, I'll likely be a life-long one. During my life experience in the years since MIC*, the craft and technique of finely-edged, crisply-creased clothes has eluded me. Not that it had to try very hard to: I wasn't a resolute student in quest of the perfect crease. I wasn't even a casual student. I rely heavily on permanent press; in the rare cases of absolute need, the perfect crease is as close to me as my local cleaners.
Never let it be said I don't occasionally support the small business community.
Once, years ago, I tried to iron a pair of pants and a shirt. Andy Warhol would have bought and displayed the shirt -- and the inexplicable 'on-acid-spiderweb' design amidst the back -- had he known about it, and had I understood what he'd made from soup can art. As a cultural barbarian, I missed a chance at fortune. The fame was there (as any who saw me wearing the shirt were quick to point me out as the 'goober butt' in the badly wrinkled shirt).
Then, I worked in a corporate atmosphere that demanded a professional, pressed look. When 'permanent press' failed to live up to expectations, I just kept the suit coat on. Especially the one with the buttons I had to repaint after dry cleaning, but that's for another time.
Don't laugh; it took their eyes off the unironed shirt.
Nowadays, I work in a 'behind the scenes' job. Therein, 'dress clothes' is a polo shirt and jeans without holes in the knees.
Not that I'm not equipped to handle a crisis: I do have an ironing board. It's folded up in the back of my closet, holding up my golf bag. Which is suitably ironic: there are irons right there. A 3 thru 9, plus sand wedge and putter. I suppose if I really had to, I could heat up the 3 iron, and press a shirt.
And while that wouldn't be fair to my local cleaners, it'd probably be a wiser use of the 3 iron than I made the last time on the course.
* Ma-Ironed Clothes
At any rate, I can say without hesitation or reservation, that I was not amongst the surveyants.
Puhhlease. If ironing is so in vogue, why were things like 'permanent press', 'wrinkle resistant' and 'wrinkle-free' invented? Where is the appreciation for these innovations?
Guess it's up to me to lead that charge.
I'm a bachelor. If ironing remains a requisite criteria in changing that status, I'll likely be a life-long one. During my life experience in the years since MIC*, the craft and technique of finely-edged, crisply-creased clothes has eluded me. Not that it had to try very hard to: I wasn't a resolute student in quest of the perfect crease. I wasn't even a casual student. I rely heavily on permanent press; in the rare cases of absolute need, the perfect crease is as close to me as my local cleaners.
Never let it be said I don't occasionally support the small business community.
Once, years ago, I tried to iron a pair of pants and a shirt. Andy Warhol would have bought and displayed the shirt -- and the inexplicable 'on-acid-spiderweb' design amidst the back -- had he known about it, and had I understood what he'd made from soup can art. As a cultural barbarian, I missed a chance at fortune. The fame was there (as any who saw me wearing the shirt were quick to point me out as the 'goober butt' in the badly wrinkled shirt).
Then, I worked in a corporate atmosphere that demanded a professional, pressed look. When 'permanent press' failed to live up to expectations, I just kept the suit coat on. Especially the one with the buttons I had to repaint after dry cleaning, but that's for another time.
Don't laugh; it took their eyes off the unironed shirt.
Nowadays, I work in a 'behind the scenes' job. Therein, 'dress clothes' is a polo shirt and jeans without holes in the knees.
Not that I'm not equipped to handle a crisis: I do have an ironing board. It's folded up in the back of my closet, holding up my golf bag. Which is suitably ironic: there are irons right there. A 3 thru 9, plus sand wedge and putter. I suppose if I really had to, I could heat up the 3 iron, and press a shirt.
And while that wouldn't be fair to my local cleaners, it'd probably be a wiser use of the 3 iron than I made the last time on the course.
* Ma-Ironed Clothes
posted by Skunkfeathers at 19:30
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1 Comments:
Too funny. I knew a golf club would get thrown into the mix somehow as soon as I read the word IRON.
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