More on Aprons

This article has been submitted by a GrownUps member. GrownUps accepts no liability for its content and the views and information contained within are not necessarily those of the GrownUps website.

The story on aprons evoked fond memories.

I still own four and wear them sometimes, but I remember my mother always wore one in the house. Those were the days when clothes were precious and washed by hand. Not like today where they are of little substance, worn once and thrown in the washing machine, never repaired and thrown out in no time to be replaced with cheap Made In China ones.

The weekly copper boil up with Rinso or grated homemade soap was the norm. My first apron was made at school the year before I would going to a weekly cooking class. It was white and all hand sewn by me, aged 11. It had a blue hand embroidered edge, a pocket and there was matching cap with my name on it. I used it for the next two years.

The elderly (to me) neighbours all wore their aprons like a badge, a symbol of good housewifery, most days.

My mum told me of the day she rushed home late from town, slipped off the skirt to her costume and popped her apron on and began doing vegetables for tea. On answering the door to a knock she found the insurance man had come for the money. She turned away and fetched the cash and books.

On closing the door she wondered if she had imagined the smirk on his face, when she realised that her back view would have revealed French knickers and stockings and suspenders. We had good clothes for going out and clothes for at home then and what a row if I tried to wear a good dress at home.

print