Aprons: the secret weapon

A vintage voile hostess apron from my personal collection.

When you think of what a design assistant in a men's necktie company would wear to work, this apron is not what came to mind, is it? I have loved aprons for as long as I can remember. This particular gem was found either in a thrift shop in San Francisco, or in a vintage shop. Obviously it isn't meant to catch your spaghetti for you.

The apron in the middle is one that my grandmother made. The other two were e-bay purchases. I love the chicken fabric. I would wear all of these all the time if they fit me. Always that's what I say. "If they fit me..." Should I request that line for my tombstone? (Which may come sooner than later seeing as my ankle has worsened since doing strengthening exercises which means I will probably trip and fall today and break my head open.)

I'm glad that so many people have come out of the woodwork with their love of aprons. I am. Seriously, it's nice to know that this humble little garment is getting the proper attention it deserves. If it weren't for all of us professing our love, I wouldn't sell nearly as many of them in my shop. Still, I will confess here that in my dark little heart I kind of wish it had stayed a secret. I cherished this funny unsung love. I felt like I knew something that other people had yet to rediscover: that aprons are not a symbol of woman's domestic chains to lives of drudgery, but a symbol of woman's practicality, usefulness, strength, skill, individuality, and power.

When I wear an apron I stand a little taller. I feel all at once more feminine and more powerful. Isn't that what women strive for? An apron is a uniform for living. Yet unlike some uniforms it allows and invites the wearer to customize, to fashion it into a very personal tool to protect clothes and make cleaning and cooking more fun. An apron can be masculine with straight unfussy lines or be covered in a sea of ruffles. The possibilities are limitless.

I don't have sweet poignant memories of aprons on my drunk grandmother.* In fact, I have no important life-shaping memories of aprons at all. Maybe I saw Dorothy's pinafore in the Wizard of Oz and was dazzled. Maybe I saw all the aprons in classic films and saw how glamorous they can be. I don't know. Surely Laura Ingalls Wilder had some influence on me. All I know is that I have worn them out in the world with no self consciousness for years. I don't take mine off to go shopping. I don't take mine off to go to the movies, or to a friend's house, or to meet important people.

Eventually I just took mine off because they no longer fit me.

I plan to remedy that. I've decided that it's not acceptable for all these cute young ladies with finer figures than mine to be out there wearing theirs while I whine away about how I can't wear them anymore. Screw that. I've decided to embrace the Polish side of my heritage and be that generously figured** Polish maternal person who is no longer "cute" but who could whip any one's butt who gets out of line. I will look like a giant sack of flour, but I'll have the power of the apron again, so who the hell cares?

I will probably need to always be wielding a wooden spoon though. Don't you think I should punctuate all my points by pointing my wooden spoon violently in the air?

I'd love to hear from other people who love aprons where and when they wear theirs. Do you wear it out in the world? If so, how does it make you feel? If you always take your apron off to go out in public, why? What do you love about aprons.



This afternoon I will write all the commenters from the Easter basket drawing post (two posts ago) on slips of paper which will then be put in some sort of receptacle from which I will draw one name, who will then get an Easter basket that will be sent out in the mail tomorrow morning. So if you haven't left a comment there yet and want a chance to win the basket, don't wait any longer!



*Not the one who made the apron mentioned above.