Everyone Needs an Apron
The ultimate pairing of fashion and function
(Originally published in the October 2007 issue of Two-Lane Livin’ Magazine)
I’ve recently discovered the usefulness of a ‘tool’ I have never used before. I don’t know if this discovery is a sign of my age or just a symptom of this two-lane livin’ lifestyle I am working to develop. Either way, I must admit, I don’t know how I ever managed life without... An apron.
Perhaps it was my years as a waitress in a four-star restaurant that confused me about the apron. To this day, I still don’t understand why such establishments make their wait staff wear aprons that are white! Of course, in a fancy restaurant, wearing a dirty apron is a cardinal sin, and I always had trouble keeping mine clean. When I left that profession, I could not wait to toss (or burn) that apron. And I never considered buying, using, or wearing one ever again.
But, a little over a year ago, my mother moved from her large family home into a condo. In the downsizing that ensued, many of her possessions became mine.
While some of these things have marketable value, most were simply items of sentimental value -- pieces I could not bear to let go. Two of these ‘pieces’ were my father’s aprons.
I don’t recall Mother ever wearing an apron in the kitchen, but I remember my father’s shop aprons well. Made of denim, they covered his front from the collarbone down, and although I know he must have gotten them dirty, even now they show not a single stain.
I never meant to wear them. I just couldn’t let them go. So I brought them home hoping Frank would perhaps adopt and wear them, saving and preserving some of his clothes. But, Frank has “work clothes”-- shirts and pants he is allowed to get dirty. And so, the aprons hung on the coat rack near the kitchen, untouched for nearly a year.
And then, it came time to string green beans.
Now, it’s been almost 30 years since I last spent time stringing beans. Every memory I have of bean stringing is set on the porch of my grandparent’s summer cabin, sitting in the porch swing.
I suppose that explains why I felt compelled to head out to our porch swing to tackle the task - a place with no real work space. With a basket of beans, a bowl for the cleaned beans and a knife, I tried to recall what grandma did with the strings.
She dropped them into her lap - - a procedure made possible only by the presence of the apron.
So, I wandered down the coat rack and put on one of Daddy’s aprons.
Immediately, I felt like a professional. Professional gardener, professional cook, professional housewife. My knowledge of cleaning and canning beans was from faded memories and a worn instruction book, but that apron helped me feel like I knew what I was doing.
Somehow, putting on the apron made me feel more important - as if I had put on some time-honored uniform.
When I finished stringing the beans, I gathered up the corners of my apron and carried the strings out to the compost pile. Just like grandma did.
I began to understand and appreciate the usefulness of the apron.
Who needs a basket in the garden? Cucumbers, beans, and peppers fit right into the pockets - as do gardening tools. When the pockets are full, gather the apron corners to make a bag. While canning, why stop to grab a hand towel to wipe your hands? The apron is there, with you, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing.
The apron saved my clothes when I pickled eggs in beet juice, and again when I splashed grease from the stove. I thought, “how many shirts could I have saved if I’d put on an apron years ago?”
It seems that the popularity of the apron has gone by the wayside along with the simple life. Microwaves, wash and wear clothing, pies from the freezer and not from the oven. Gone are the days when girls learned to make aprons in Home Economics class. Gone are the days when shy toddlers hid behind their mother’s apron. Gone are the days when the apron was a staple of the household - a symbol of family dinners and Christmas cookies and noodle dough rolled out in flour on the counter.
When was the last time you saw an apron on sale in the store?
I realize now that it is only natural that I have discovered the use of the apron as I discover and enjoy the pleasures of simple living.
Do you have an apron? It now seems to me that an apron is a necessity of two-lane livin’. I don’t know how I ever survived without one.