I wrote this after polling my friends and colleagues about the role of laundry in their lives. Not quite sure what to do with it.
In a recent poll conducted of New Yorkers Under 30 (NYUT) concerning whether or not they know how to do their laundry, with the exception of one participant of Swedish decent, we discovered that they do not. Here is a summary of our more telling findings;
Some of the biggest stains ever removed by New Yorkers Under 30 include coffee, pomegranate, “lots of blood”, boxed wine, and something “indescribable” involving New Years Eve.
It would appear, however, that New Yorkers under 30 years of age have not been able to rid themselves of “those gross stains on mattresses”, caked mud, ink, oil, “a soufflé of egg yolk” and “puberty”.
New Yorkers have had some horrible experiences with shrinkage, many of which have been executed by someone other than themselves. Excluding one male participant who cited an incident in a swimming pool, 95% of the participants claimed episodes involving their favorite wool sweaters. Curiously enough, all the sweaters listed were identified as having been “grey” with the exception of the Swedish participant, who did not list the color of the sweater in question.
Not one single New Yorker responded affirmatively to the possession a laundry machine in their home or apartment, although one female alerted us to the illegal installation of mini-washers by mothers-to-be in order to keep up with the “nappies”. When questioned whether they would prefer a laundry machine or a dishwasher in their place of residence, apart from one ambitious participant who suggested that “you can’t take your dishes elsewhere to be washed”, the response was aggressively unanimous. “Are you kidding?” It would appear that New Yorkers Under 30 do not cook.
When asked to free-associate upon an outdoor clothes line, the responses were poignantly nostalgic. Rooftops, the 1950’s, home-made food, salty beach towels, poverty, “a website I just worked on”, summer, and “somewhere far away. Like Virginia” were some of the images that came to mind for the young New Yorkers that participated in our poll.
When questioned whether or not they really knew how to do their laundry, most male contributors admitted to throwing everything in together and “hoping for the best”. The women questioned had more varied responses ranging from “No, but my grandmother does” to “does anyone out there really use bleach?”
“Bleach” and the “permanent press cycle” were two common responses when New Yorkers Under 30 (NYUT) were questioned about what made them frightened. (In regards to laundry. Not in general). The monitors of this poll are not completely sure how to use the permanent press cycle either, but we did want to supply New Yorkers Under and Over the age of 30 with a tip on how to use bleach in the privacy of their own home.
How to Use Bleach in Your Sink
- Empty your sink of dishes and food, devoting extra attention to take-out miscellany lingering in the drain
- Fill the sink with a mixture of hot water and a half cup of bleach
- Emerge article in question into mixture for six minutes, kneading sporadically. (Those with recent manicures might want to wear pink gloves)
- Empty sink and wash article in question under lukewarm water
- Drip dry said article over bathtub or similar porcelain receptacle
- Put dishes back in your sink
Bleach can also be used in your washing machine but apparently, no one has one.
By way of conclusion, many of our participants listed some tried and true tips that we felt compelled to share with the reader in regards to stain removal.
Good tips for stain removal include: hydrogen peroxide for blood, salt for wine, marthastewart.com, “don’t let my mother anywhere near your jeans”, soft scrub with bleach on a toothbrush for whites and wax paper and an iron for wax.
Bad tips for stain removal include: peanut butter to get gum out, “try this stain stick”, white wine for red, toothpaste and “just rub it”.
If anyone in New York has a tip on the removal of ink stains, he or she is invited to contact the writer.
