Aprons, Aesthetics, and Hip New Things

It's always a strange feeling to find out that something I've always done is the hip new thing. Or, in a slightly different tack, to find out that what I always took for granted that people just did, most people don't do. And then when they start doing it, it becomes the hip new thing, usually for reasons quite different from why I always did them.

For instance, I grew up with a mom who wore aprons virtually every day of her life, and when I turned out to be a "kafflich" (Dutch word--prone to spills and splatters and messes) sort of cook, I wore aprons too, especially if I was working in good clothes.

I have made and worn cobbler aprons and lacy aprons and ruffled aprons, but mostly I come back to basic, hardworking, one-main-piece-of-fabric aprons.

Now suddenly the mommy-blogs are awash in women who are all excited about this new fad, and the sidebars are popping with links to sources for cutesy 50's-vintage aprons with cherry prints and scallops.

Which makes me wonder: were there really so few women wearing aprons that these women think they've discovered something new?

Then there are things like growing and canning tomatoes, reusing yogurt cups, and using a vinegar mixture to wash windows, more things I've just (almost) always done. Suddenly there are people "discovering" that these are actually options, and their motive is usually big words like environmental responsibility and sustainability and ecological something-or-other.

It always intrigues me to find someone who actually articulates reasons for doing this sort of thing, because that's not something I very often think about. I just do them. Why? Because, if I really ponder this, hmmmm, I guess frugality and tradition and stewardship and waste not, want not.

My friend Robin from our Red Moons writing group does not to my knowledge wear aprons, but she has put a lot of thought into her lifestyle and is determined to go against the cultural norm in terms of how her family eats, how much trash they generate, and so on. Reading her blog is fascinating, because sometimes she's discovering for the first time things that I grew up with and sort of figured everyone knew about, and often she spells out exactly why she chose to do something that I also do but it never occurred to me to think about why I do it.

Here she writes about "The aesthetic of the useful," specifically about clotheslines. I think I've had a clothesline in the backyard of all but one of the 15-ish places I've lived at, and I have many random photos of them. There's the web of lines from tree to tree to tree in front of our cabin in Round Lake, with hundreds of tiny garments flapping in the breeze, then the line of little pants when I got too ambitious too early with potty-training Matt, and more recently, a line of jeans against a setting sun with the air full of harvest haze.

Once again, I always hung clothes on the line whenever I could, because I liked to and it made sense. It's fascinating to see it through the eyes of someone who thinks deeply about such things.

Maybe there's too much that I do without ever really thinking about it.

Quote of the Day:
"Just so you know I am not an aspering wrighter like Emily told you I was."
--Jenny, on a guest xanga post