Aprons

If you have ever watched an episode of The Donna Reed Show, or Leave it to Beaver or even I Love Lucy you would have noticed (among many things) that women wore aprons.

Both my grandmothers wore aprons—sometimes they wore “cobblers” which were printed  cotton vests that snapped over their dresses. Sometimes they wore “dusters” which were snapped front dresses which served as a full body apron. And my mother and her sisters wore aprons of some sort too. My Aunt Fran had a special one that she wore every year at my house on Thanksgiving when I was growing up. She wore it when she carved the turkey. The same apron is in every photograph—along with a knife in hand in front of a perfectly basted Butterball.

And I can remember that when my mother hosted any party or holiday and all the women would help cook or clean up that my mother handed out aprons to everyone like they were martinis. My mother must have owned no less than 10 aprons at any point in time.

Apparently, women used to worry about getting dirty when they cooked or cleaned.

I do not own an apron—not even one for my mother if she visits. I do not know anyone who wears an apron anymore. I don’t even know where to buy one if I found the need. I think aprons have become a relic.

So either women don’t cook or clean, don’t get dirty if they do so, or factor the dirt in as a casualty of doing business. In my case I don’t see the difference between washing an apron or washing my clothing—laundry is laundry. And even if I am wearing a “good” outfit it is going to the drycleaners whether I wear the apron or not—aprons do not keep the sweat away—in fact the increased sweat from the extra layer of clothing makes the outfit dirtier than if I did not wear the apron at all.

In a few days the carpenter will be showing up to work on a third floor renovation. I will have to pay attention as to whether he wears a work apron or not. Because I doubt carpenters wear aprons anymore—they have nail guns--just as women have stainfighter Tide