Sheila Nevins | 10/08/2009 8:00 am
Chocolate Always on a White Blouse, by Sheila Nevins
Are you neat as a pin or always a little bit disarrayed?
© Shutterstock
I wrote this after seeing the play "Love, Loss and What I Wore," written by The Ephron Sisters. It’s playing in New York at the Westside Theatre and is about women’s complex relationship to their clothing.
The play was stupendous and I laughed deep belly laughs. I have sufficient deep belly properties to make my laughs resonate and encourage others.
When I left the theatre I could not help but notice the large familiar stain on my aqua blouse. I must have worn this mysterious noticeable stain all day. No doubt everyone noticed it – like food in your teeth, or a blouse unbuttoned too low, or a bra strap that peeks out and even your best friends won’t tell you. In my case, I think, they have simply become used to these spots – like a characteristic mole or scar. You see, the truth is I don’t ever NOT have a stain. Somehow between toothpaste, Hot & Crusty dribbled soup at lunch, a grabbed cookie crumb or dinner on the fly, I always carry around some evidence of drool.
Where does this come from? I never know the moment of this traumatic event. Like the mystery of the lost sock, never to be returned from the laundry room, I most always have a smudge somewhere. My scarlet "A" signifying some sin of decorum.
The cleaner, Mr. Cho, from Gracie Cleaners, always attaches a disclaimer to my garments: "We do not take responsibility for this stain." He pins it at the spot. "Mr. Cho, I am not reneging on responsibility. I take full blame for the greasy circle. So, Mr. Cho, you see, I always carry a blemish somewhere on what I wear. It is my fault entirely."
But come to think of it, maybe it’s not just an act of sloppiness. Maybe it’s a miracle. Maybe it’s a message from above. Maybe I could move to New Jersey and apply for sainthood. People love Jews who convert. I’ll become "OUR LADY OF THE STAIN." Crowds will wait in line to get a scrap of my XL blouse or XL pants.
You see, it’s not what I wear but the eternal damage I do to it. The rayon that shrinks irreversibly when the wash directions say DRY CLEAN ONLY, and yet I toss it into the washer, refusing to read the label, so frantic about erasing the stain. Whether the store is Target or Bergdorf – "la tache** c’est moi." My stains are equal opportunity employers. Now look at that – there is chocolate on the sleeve of my new white blouse. How did it get there? I surrender to le smudge. I will never be perfect.
**la tache – French for stain
The play was stupendous and I laughed deep belly laughs. I have sufficient deep belly properties to make my laughs resonate and encourage others.
When I left the theatre I could not help but notice the large familiar stain on my aqua blouse. I must have worn this mysterious noticeable stain all day. No doubt everyone noticed it – like food in your teeth, or a blouse unbuttoned too low, or a bra strap that peeks out and even your best friends won’t tell you. In my case, I think, they have simply become used to these spots – like a characteristic mole or scar. You see, the truth is I don’t ever NOT have a stain. Somehow between toothpaste, Hot & Crusty dribbled soup at lunch, a grabbed cookie crumb or dinner on the fly, I always carry around some evidence of drool.
Where does this come from? I never know the moment of this traumatic event. Like the mystery of the lost sock, never to be returned from the laundry room, I most always have a smudge somewhere. My scarlet "A" signifying some sin of decorum.
The cleaner, Mr. Cho, from Gracie Cleaners, always attaches a disclaimer to my garments: "We do not take responsibility for this stain." He pins it at the spot. "Mr. Cho, I am not reneging on responsibility. I take full blame for the greasy circle. So, Mr. Cho, you see, I always carry a blemish somewhere on what I wear. It is my fault entirely."
But come to think of it, maybe it’s not just an act of sloppiness. Maybe it’s a miracle. Maybe it’s a message from above. Maybe I could move to New Jersey and apply for sainthood. People love Jews who convert. I’ll become "OUR LADY OF THE STAIN." Crowds will wait in line to get a scrap of my XL blouse or XL pants.
You see, it’s not what I wear but the eternal damage I do to it. The rayon that shrinks irreversibly when the wash directions say DRY CLEAN ONLY, and yet I toss it into the washer, refusing to read the label, so frantic about erasing the stain. Whether the store is Target or Bergdorf – "la tache** c’est moi." My stains are equal opportunity employers. Now look at that – there is chocolate on the sleeve of my new white blouse. How did it get there? I surrender to le smudge. I will never be perfect.
**la tache – French for stain
Read more about: Clothing, Fashion, Lifestyle, Love, Loss and What I Wore,, New York City, Nora Ephron, Style
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38 Reader Comments (so far…) Sign In or Register to comment
Okay okay I admit it. I’m a slob too. I cannot cut anything in the kitchen without it appearing on my clothes, and if I wear a coverall somehow I get some in my hair without knowing, inadvertently touch it and then touch the clothing and voila, another stain.
I am also a perfectionist so I will pass on my tips to you all…I have been wearing a lot of white and the latest situation was a very very careful cutting and depeeling of a ripe pomegranate—I thought I had made it home free but it actually resulted in pinpoint magenta dots on my white shirt.
I stick to cotton, linen, sometimes rayon and occasionally silk…I find wool is the real killer.
For the moment of truth/embarrassment I have no solutions but think that the lady with the handkerchiefs, flowers and pins was on to something…the best I can do is a shawl, cunningly draped.
For right afterwards I discovered that the Smithsonian advises for antique fabrics with unknown stains alternate applications of a vinegar soltuion and a soap solution… this actually works quite well esp for wine stains if you have the patience. I started this with old tablecloths and have moved on to clothes, most not antiques. For a quicker fix a paste of a detergent with enzymes or an application of oxygen bleach does it—even for other than white, although depends on the brand…sometimes just soaking in lukewarm or cold water with soap will even do it…and then quickly into the washing machine or handwashing.
Having gotten this down now makes me much more sanguine about the event itself, as in "this too will pass."
I have also weathered far more embarrassing stains having been living abroad and living through several episodes of "turista" or the local equivalent.
For cats the best advice I can pass on though I am still a little lax about this and not set up to do it like the original—I had a beau who was a banker and who had three longhaired cats. Every time he came home he would immediately race to the walk-in closet and change. Ditto every time he went out (in a suit). Nary a hair and he worked for a very conservative bank.
Because I eat on the run (in my car) quite a bit I’ve gotten in the habit of carrying a Tide stick in my makeup case. While not usable on all fabrics, I mostly where cotton blouses. On these it is a wonder tool.
I also love the way stains blend in with denim. Spill coffee on a pari of jeans and you barely know its there once it dries.