Sustainable Sunday : My Grandma's Knickers

And my grandma was a good god fearing woman so you can imagine: her knickers were plain knickers. But they carried a high value.

Sustainable Sunday

Grandma was a small woman - I have written a little of her as we have passed through some of the stories. White hair cut in a twenties bob parted to the side. She had special clips that put two perfect crimps into the fringe that swished across partially covering her eyebrow. She had bright blue eyes and the sixth sense of a snake in the sun. She ate very little. Seldom wore make up. Had the softest skin. Refused to learn to drive. Every horse she ever called came galloping through the fields to her. Horses and dogs loved her. She had six of them (horses) on the farm and had a special call for each. She carried carrots, never sugar as this would be bad for their teeth, she said.

She did not live on the farm though, instead living in a small two storied house by the beach in town. Pa would drive back and forth to the farm two or three times a week. She refused to learn to drive and walked everywhere. She believed everyone should have a dog because then you have to walk them every day. So the dog keeps the person fit. Dog-owners lived longer she said. She walked around the corner to morning mass every day. She walked to the shops. She walked the dogs.

She and Pa had brown and white English setters, who were very well trained and all called Geordy. I do not know what the dog calls himself, said Grandma. So they are Geordy.

In the time of this story she was probably in her seventies. Though this is not as much a story as a description. A lesson in mending. In taking care. In value.

Grandma’s name was Constance and she had a temper. In fact when Con got angry or thought she might be losing an argument with my Pa, she would throw her tea cup into the fire to shatter on the brick, usually to underscore the point (and after she had drained it of tea). Then she would throw the saucer after it because she saw no point in a saucer without it’s matching cup. Then she would stalk out of the room to get the brush and shovel to clean up.

The story goes that she once came into her front hallway to find two men - one on either side of her big grandfather clock, about to pick it up I suppose, steal it, she was enraged and she ran them off with a broom.

She was not one of those cuddly grandma figures that you read about. She taught me how to skin and gut and roast a rabbit. Something I immediately chose to forget. How to garden and keep a man, (another story). If we got something wrong she would grab us by the collar and kick us in the pants. She cooked when she had to but sewing was her passion.

Fabrics. Her clothes were treated with reverence and care. She grated sunlight soap to wash the laundry. Usually by hand in big enamel bowls. Clothes were wrung out then hung out in the sun to dry. A slither of sunlight soap was placed in a little metal cage and run under hot water for washing dishes too. I will never forget that scent. Outside her tiny kitchen window grew a fence overflowing with jasmine. The jasmine scent would mix with the hot soap scent. These scents always make me think of grandma. The kitchen window, like the wash house window was always open a crack. Winter and summer. Unlike her sisters who had huge kitchens and great big coal ranges she embraced a modern gas stove and a tiny larder - she got all that nonsense over and done with fast so she could get to the sunroom where she kept the treadle and her sewing table.

Grandma was very frugal. Her movements quick and deliberate. And cthe cups of tea were endless. She measured the tea leaves out in pinches. Spent tea leaves were tipped out of the pot into the garden for the hydrangeas; to keep the flowers blue. Every time. Making a cup of tea meant a trip to the garden to empty the teapot before taking it inside to add hot water to heat the pot up. And she liked to have a cup of tea anytime - often. I once cleaned the inside of her tea pot with a scrubber and she almost died of horror. The same with her cast iron skillet. Never washed. Wiped but never washed. I learnt that lesson fast and never forgot.

Grandma and Pa heated the front room with a fire and the rest of the house was just cold. Put on a jersey and stop your whining. Doors were kept closed to keep the heat in. Curtains pulled in the late afternoon for the same reason. Lights were turned out as you left a room. Lights out and close the door. On pain of death.

Grandma was not one to sit in cafes or go to the theatre or eat out or wear fancy clothing. She wore pleated woollen or cotton skirts that reached past her knees, stockings (heavy ones in the winter) and sensible shoes. Much of her clothing was twenty or thirty years old or more. She had a small collection of fine wool tops, perfectly mended and pressed cotton blouses, and twin sets and cardigans. Gloves and hats. Nylon stockings for summer and woolen ones for winter. Her stockings and woolen hose were always baggy around the ankles. Everyones was. She never wore jewellery and always wore an apron. Always - aprons saved your clothing from wear. Everyone wore an apron. She had kitchen aprons and gardening aprons and one for collecting eggs from the chooks.

We darned them or sewed patches on them if they got caught on anything. The aprons were our first sewing and repairing projects. Aprons were lessons.

She sewed most of her clothes by hand - using a treadle on occasion. But mostly by hand with perfectly placed neat hand stitching. Needle and thread. Because of this our good clothes were precious. She had a basket of repairing beside her chair by the fire and she taught all of us children - even the boys - how to do invisible mending. We repaired small tears in our skirts by using threads from the hem of the garment. We darned socks. Turned collars. Darning stockings and unraveled jerseys to knit into new jerseys. And when a sheet wore out she would cut it down the middle and then sew the unworn sides back together using the treadle. There was a seam down the middle of the sheet but it would last another few years.

But mostly she liked to sew sitting by the fire. She even made her hats by hand. Clothes were carefully made and carefully tended through their life. All under the lamo by the fire.

Washing clothes after every wear just never happened. Because we all wore cotton underwear and cotton singlets our good clothes never touched our skin. We washed our knickers (and later bras and stockings) in the bathroom sink and hung them to dry on special bathroom racks attached to the wall just inside the window. Everything else was brushed and hung back up after each wear. Good clothes were for ‘good’, play clothes were allowed to get dirty. But worn at least two or three days before washing.

She had a washing machine but hand washed most things so the clothes would last longer.

Grandma and Pa ate their main meal at lunch time. Grandma and I would wear our aprons while we were cooking and serving. You put them over your head and wrapped the skirt of the apron right around your whole body and tied it back at your waist in the front. They were designed to save your clothing. The apron was put back on to do the dishes after lunch then at two pm we would hang them behind the kitchen door, get our books and grandma would retire to her room for siesta, (as long as I knew her she had her own bedroom), she would remove her cardigan and dress or skirt and top, stockings and garter. Everything carefully folded and draped on the chair. Then, stripped down to her full silk slip and knickers, she would fold the cover down on her bed, turn the radio on, open her book and she would lie down for her afternoon rest. Pulling the cashmere blanket up to cover herself.

And now we get to her underwear. Because there she is this tiny old woman asleep with her cashmere throw over her in her 40’s underwear. This was not sexy underwear. What a woman wore under her clothing in those days was serious business. Grandma’s underwear is worth noting. She was a young woman in the thirties and underwear was sturdy and made to last. So now in the 60’s when I was visiting her she was still wearing the underwear he had been gifted in the late twenties.

Her silk knickers were big and loose (we would call them french knickers now or satin boy shorts or boxers) but everyone wore them, there was nothing sexy about them then. On her top half she wore a sensible cotton bustier or chemise. A brassiere. Underneath the roomy knickers she wore a girdle across her abdomen with little soft clips to hold up her stockings. Underwear was not tight like it is now. (Air in the nether regions was considered good for a woman). When she was younger and had her period another light belt went around her waist with pins to hold the washable pads in place. Over the top of the brassiere she always wore a silk or wool singlet (long sleeved in the winter). Then on top of all that came the slip, grandma always wore slips. We called them petticoats. They were silk and were figure skimming from shoulder to knee. The straps were ribbon. Some of these slips were so beautiful. They were dropped over the substantial bra (which replaced the chemise which replaced the corset all of which she still owned). On top of this slip she might wear another petticoat depending on the dress of the day. Most petticoats and sometimes the slips were slightly ruffled at the hem to hold the skirts away from the legs to create that perfect smooth silhouette. It was also cooler believe it or not.

Grandma always wore her knickers (loose silk bloomers) inside out because she could not stand the feel of the seams on her body. Her small protest. She also refused ever again to wear a corset though she still had it wrapped in tissue in the drawer.

So this is how she got dressed. Chemise, or brassiere, (whatever you want to call it) over her breasts - it reached to her waist. .Garter around her waist. French knickers. Stockings (either wool or nylon) to clip onto the garter. Singlet (either wool or silk) on top of the chemise or brassiere. The petticoat. Then skirt and smart top or dress. Some silk, some cotton, some wool. Then a big apron on top for working in the house.

All her underwear was ages old and made from the softest best fabrics. Silk or cotton or the lightest wool. In gentle pinks and blues and dove greys. Whatever happened to all of those I wonder. Maybe my aunt has them. I must ask.

Her underwear was from a bygone era. A time past when there had been money in the family. Before she married that dashing Ben.

Each of these under-items was carefully washed and dried on the rack or flat on a towel in the sun in the washhouse lightly sprinkled with lavender water as they dried and, when dry, the good underwear was folded in tissue then stored back in her wardrobe drawers. She had one single free standing oak wardrobe and one chest of drawers for all her clothes. There were not many because she looked after them so well and only made something new when she had totally worn out another and it had been sent to the rag bag.

When she travelled she packed her clothes with tissue between the layers so there were no wrinkles. Bags were not weighed in those days but neither did they have wheels!

They were not poor by any means. This was just how a life was lived. We sewed our own clothes or had them made for us because the fit was very important. And they were made to last. They might be unpicked and remade into other clothing because the fabrics were precious. And even though we sewed or knitted our clothes or received them as hand me downs and darned and repaired, the underwear had to be purchased and needed to last.

My grandma looked after her things. Her under garments were stories.

This was how life was lived.

I wonder how we would do now if suddenly we could not buy cheap undies. If we had to look after our stuff because there was no more to be had.

I cannot find a decent petticoat or slip now. Mores the pity. I did love the feel of the silk against my skin.

Mending is marvellous. Don’t let’s lose that skill.

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TKG Take Ten

Your favorite this week was TKG Take Ten : Wednesday : A laughable ten minutes: HERE

What do you do while you are listening to TKG Take Ten? I tidy my desk and write my list for tomorrow.

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The Kitchen’s Garden (The blog)

The Most Read Blog Post of the Week : Sundogs at my heels: HERE.

It has been a shockingly cold week out here on the plains. In fact in many areas of the United States. It is hard to farm in this kind of weather. The waters freeze so fast and I know the animals and birds have a hard time of it. The joints in my hands are swollen from the cold and I am very much looking forward to a warming trend.

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The Sustainable Sunday Tips

🐞Handwash more often. Mend as often as you can.

When I first started to travel we used to pack an emergency sewing kit with a selection of different coloured threads and a couple of needles. I still carry my needle and thread! But the kits are not as easy to find anymore.

🐞Pre-cycle. Choose not to buy it in the first place.

Recycling is a modern construct to make you feel better about buying all that plastic shit then dumping it in the recycling bin. Recycling is a LIE. Some items can be recycled but they have to be prepped (labels off, lids off, washed - etc). Most plastics cannot be recycled at all. They know you feel bad about the plastic so they give you a separate rubbish bin for it! A feel good bin. To make you feel better about over consumption. Most of the countries I have worked and lived in already encourage fabric shopping bags and some outright ban plastic bags so taking your own bag to the supermarket is dead easy. But what about the little stuff that we struggle to avoid. Like mayonnaise containers!

🐞 Have less stuff.

This week: Ban one plastic container from entering your house ever again. Today. Not tomorrow says rabbit - today. For example I will NEVER buy shampoo or conditioner in a plastic bottle again. There are tons of cake shampoos around now. They last for months and do a fine job.

Make your own healthy salad dressing. I make a large jar on Sundays to last the week. Years ago I found a pour spout that screws onto a mason jar.

Here is my recipe: I call it French Dressing though it was taught to me by an elderly German woman.

• 1 cup locally grown and pressed olive oil

• 1/3 cup fermented apple cider vinegar

• juice of one lemon

• 1 teaspoon garlic (or maybe more)

• 1 teaspoon whole seed mustard

• handful of chopped seasonal green herbs (whatever you like)

• 1 tablespoon local honey (warm first so it is runny for blending)

Shake before pouring over your salad greens.

You will play around with this dressing every time and make it your own. In fact your friends will love it so much you will make jars of it and give it away with the recipe for birthday presents.

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The Opinion.

We are living at a delicate cosmic juncture that has enabled us to sustain life on this planet. A confluence. A fortuitous alignment. It is possible that this is only going to be a short period in the long time that will be the life of our planet. So let’s do as little harm as possible. Yeah?

Leave me a comment. I LOVE comments.

Celi

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