It's Alive!
This cardigan looks pretty ordinary, right? Like a little something you might have bought at Cotton Ginny back in, say, 1990. It is anything but ordinary though, I assure you. It is made of, get this, 65% cotton and 35% steel. I kid you not. See for yourself:
Pretty amazing right? Its a bird, it’s a plane, its Super-Sweater… Take that, you evil poly-blend stretch pants!
Here’s what happens when you wear steel, (or, let’s face it, any close fitting knit garment): you sweat. I wore it once or twice, on what was perhaps a too-hot day, and you know what comes next: it is no longer fit to wear, at least not in public. That’s right. I sweated on the sweater, and as you can imagine, that meant that I was faced with having to clean it. But how? How do you clean a super sweater made of steel?
Dry Clean Only, of course. Right. The last time I took an item of clothing to the dry cleaner that was the least bit unusual, I was met with there “not all fibres respond well to our cleaning process” defence.
So I’m stuck. Do I chance it with dry cleaning? Should I attempt to spot-wash the stinky parts? What if I just air it outside? Months go by, months when I’m not wearing the Super Sweater Made of Steel, until finally, I spot it, balled up behind a stool on the laundry room floor. I pick it up, disgusted, and turn the cold water on full blast in the laundry tub. Without measuring, without hesitation, I pour a generous amount of warm-water Tide and dump it, and the sweater, into the tub. I swish it around harshly for a minute and then let it stew in its own steely juices. Rinse in cold, wring carefully by rolling in a towel, reshape on a drying rack, and leave it to dry. By the next day, voila: one clean, if somewhat wrinkly, sweater.
And now, I realize, I have to iron the damn thing. It will probably melt.
I sigh and hang the wrinkled garment on a satin hanger in the guest bedroom. And you know what? No more steel clothes. I’m swearing off. It’s jeans and hoodies for me.
Cotton anyone?