As a child, there were wrinkles in my dresses.
Laundry was starched, kept damp, ironed.
Made for a much tidier presentation.
As soon as the heat from the iron dissipated,
The wrinkles were on their way back.
It was pretty obvious that I was unkempt.
You can never really keep a dress neat.
If it is cotton, and mine were, it will crease.
Creases don’t come out easily.
Starch it, sprinkle it, iron it.
No matter what, not crisp.
I was a rumpled child.
I remember when perma-press came along.
Amazing substance. No starching needed.
Dry it, wear it. It seemed like a cheat to me.
My mom loved perma-press.
She was overworked and under-helped.
Perma-press smoothed over a lot of things.
I like cotton. I like it just the way it comes.
Doesn’t need dye to be pretty.
If it wrinkles, I am plain ok with that.
My wrinkles are not only on dresses.
I show them on my face.
They highlight my eyes and my mouth
My husband loves my mouth
And I love my eyes.
There is truth to be seen in both.
I often wear a rumpled white shirt.
I love the feel of the cotton close to me.
The wrinkles just feel familiar and comfy.