A pressing problem

There have been some benefits to swearing off ironing: A decrease in the number of burnt fingers, no more morning depression with every visual reminder of my inability and a reduction in the chances of cancer from sucking down too much second-hand starch.

But even the best plans have wrinkles, as I discovered shortly after embracing the non-ironing life.

Of all the clothing in my closet, I only wear a small percentage on any frequent basis. I will fret in the store and convince myself that death is imminent without the latest trendy print or skirt. I am no stranger to believing that I will suddenly drop 10 pounds, grow six feet and become a supermodel if I only buy a particular outfit. Frankly, though, after a short honeymoon period the item is relegated to the back-up pile. Unless it is some shade of black, my favorite broken-in jeans or a crisp white blouse, the clothing rarely makes it into regular rotation. Frills and fluff and bright colors need not apply.

But at a certain point the staples are no longer available without ironing, unless the wrinkled look comes in vogue. The answer is either to find a cleaner that won't irk me by charging more for women's shirts or start giving equal time to less-favored garments. So far, the final option has won out.

Wearing clothes that haven't seen the light of day in eons is sort of like shopping without the bill and the hunt for parking. Sweaters and suits long-forgotten are suddenly like new again. There are also the items that probably haven't been in fashion for eons, either, but those are saved for only the direst of dressing emergencies.

On a regular basis now a particular co-worker wanders by my desk, saying he wants to see "what came out of the closet." At first I thought he was influenced by the latest same-sex marriage battle in California. Then I realized he simply wants to check out what hidden treasure I found in the dark recesses of my wardrobe that day.

Maybe I should have kept my ironing rehab program to myself. Of course, my public admission gives me a margin of understanding when I show up at work wearing a wool sweater in the dog days of summer or tossing jackets over everything to hide wrinkly sleeves. I can imagine the whispered water cooler conversation now:

- Is Michelle hiding track marks with all those blazers and does she actually think acid wash is back in style?

- No, no. She just going through a tough time right now with her wardrobe. She gave up ironing, you know.

- Oh, I see.

But getting dressed is admittedly becoming more difficult as my options dwindle. In recent weeks I've worn a blouse that was quickly dubbed "the pirate shirt" and a sweater that one observer claimed evoked a unicorn.

Unless I want to continually buy new clothes I may have to make peace with pressing and commit myself to learning how to actually do it. It's the only way I and the appliance can iron out our differences.

Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Monday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 102. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.