< PREVIOUS ] [ 2008 Index ] [ Ed Quillen HOME ] [ SEARCH ] [ NEXT >
We need a break from politics, so let's turn to a phrase
that pops up frequently: laundry list,
as in he
had a whole laundry list of complaints
or she
recited a familiar laundry list of issues.
When I was 14 years old, my father put me to work in the family business, the Crystal White Laundry in Greeley. I wasn't big enough for heavy work in the washroom, so my after-school job was at the sorting table.
Back then, before permanent-press and abundant home washers, many people sent their clothes to a commercial laundry, where it was my job to mark it and sort it.
The marking was to make sure the laundry got back to the right people, and the sorting was to make sure the right stuff got cleaned together in the big washing machines. Clothing dyes are much more color-fast now than they were then, and modern synthetic fabrics are much less fussy about wash-water temperature than traditional cotton, linen and wool.
So I had to learn many distinctions as I marked and
sorted the clothes, sheets, towels, etc. Also I had to
record them on the laundry list
-- a printed form
that you filled out with the laundry mark and the quantity
next to the appropriate category on the laundry list.
The laundry industry has never been noted as a bastion of progress, and the Crystal White laundry list had archaic terms that mystified me.
For instance, what's a chemise?
As a 14-year-old
boy, I didn't read bodice rippers, so I had to learn. Or a
counterpane?
Another mysterious item on the laundry
list, and basically a bedspread, I learned.
A regular shirt was a soft-collar shirt.
From
what I could gather, when my grandfather had made up the
list, some dress shirts came with detachable hard collars,
and thus the distinction. Collars
were also on the
list, and the category was used when priests sent in their
laundry.
There was also a sports shirt,
which was
distinguished from the soft-collar shirt
because the
flap inside behind the button holes was wider and looser.
The laundry charged more for these because they were harder
to handle.
Women's blouses were distinguished from men's shirts because the buttons were on the other side. These, too, brought an extra charge. That seemed unfair to me, but when I asked, my grandmother told me that more labor was involved at ironing time and thus it was fair to charge more.
Besides the varieties of shirts and blouses, there were
pants, specifically blue jeans. Although they were popular
attire then as now, they weren't on the list. It had
coveralls
and overalls.
Denim coveralls had
arms and overalls did not. Blue jeans were categorized as a
bibless overalls, and a pair of jeans was to be listed as
half an overall. If there were, say, three pair of jeans,
you wrote 3 HALF
next to overalls. And if there were
bib overalls and blue jeans in the same lot, I learned it
was simpler to write up two tickets, rather than try to
make it clear on one.
Just why we refer to a singular item as a pair of
pants
is beyond me; there is the old joke that pants
are singular at the top and plural at the bottom, which
doesn't help much. Socks actually do come in pairs, and a
solo sock would be listed as 1/2
next to
socks.
This warps your vocabulary for the rest of your life.
More than 40 years after my stint at the sorting table,
Martha still laughs after she asks what I'm looking for as
I paw through a dresser drawer, and I say half a pair of
socks.
So the next time you hear about a laundry list,
ask about counterpanes and half-pairs. If you get a blank
look, you'll know you're dealing with someone who couldn't
tell a laundry list from an enemies list. As a pro when it
comes to laundry lists, I know the real thing when I see
one -- and at least 99.9 percent of today's laundry
lists
are not laundry lists.
< PREVIOUS ] [ 2008 Index ] [ Ed Quillen HOME ] [ SEARCH ] [ NEXT >