Apron Strings by Christine Shop

Life didn't get less messy. It just got busier.

Once, an apron was simply part of getting the work done

In the 1930s and 1940s, women did not wear aprons because they loved the look. Aprons were work clothes: practical equipment for the work of feeding and caring for a household.

Clothing needed to last. Laundry meant washing, drying and ironing with far more effort than it does today. A washable apron took the flour, the grease, the dishwater and the garden dirt so the dress underneath did not have to.

The best aprons were made for comfort, safety, durability and convenience. They tied on quickly. They had useful pockets. They stood between a good dress and a day's worth of spills.

Useful did not mean plain. Women added gingham, rickrack, flowers, embroidery and ruffles. The apron worked hard, and it was still beautiful.

An apron wasn't kitchen decoration. It was equipment.

Then the apron began to disappear

By the 1960s and 70s, washing machines had improved, wash-and-wear fabrics were everywhere, clothes were easier to replace, and convenience food changed the rhythm of family meals. At the same time the frilly apron had become tied to an idealized picture of the 1950s housewife.

As women's roles changed, many rejected the symbol along with the expectation that domestic work belonged only to them.

We hung up the apron. But we never stopped needing what it did.

Women went to work. The work at home didn't disappear.

Today she may spend her day running a business, working in an office, teaching a classroom, caring for patients, volunteering, raising children — or several of those at once.

Then she comes home. The school bus arrives. Someone needs a permission slip signed. There is homework, laundry, messages to return, plans for tomorrow, and people asking what's for dinner.

And somewhere in the middle of it she is standing at the stove in the same blouse she wore to work. She doesn't have twenty minutes to go upstairs, change, and start her evening over.

She has thirty minutes to make dinner. So she chops and stirs and talks to her kids at the same time. For a few minutes, cooking almost feels like a little time for herself.

And then — splat. Tomato sauce. Right on the dry-clean-only shirt.

Suddenly that old-fashioned apron doesn't seem quite so old-fashioned.

The apron never became obsolete. Our reason for wearing one changed.

Most of us land somewhere among three honest answers: I hate to cook. I can take it or leave it. I love to cook — I only wish I had more time.

For the woman who loves cooking, an apron gives a little of that missing time back. No trip upstairs, no outfit change, no worrying about the blouse underneath. Tie it on, put something on the television, and let the kitchen be a place where making dinner feels a bit like making time for yourself.

For her, wearing an apron isn't saying my place is in the kitchen.

It's saying: my kitchen is my place.

And for the woman who dislikes cooking, or feels nothing much about it either way, saving the time still matters. Sometimes having the right uniform for the job makes the job easier, more comfortable, and a little more enjoyable.

“My place isn't in the kitchen. I just have too much to do today to ruin this shirt.”

And yes, gentlemen — we see you too

You work just as hard, move just as fast, and may pretend you don't care what lands on your shirt. But nobody wants the boss asking why there's pancake batter on the collar.

Dads cook breakfast, man the grill, pack lunches, wash dishes, help with science projects, and somehow end up wearing at least a little of whatever they're making.

An apron isn't a costume and it certainly isn't only for women. It's the right tool for a messy job: quick to put on, easy to wash, and far less expensive than replacing a good shirt.

So whether you're flipping pancakes before soccer, smoking ribs for the neighborhood, teaching a child the family recipe, or just getting dinner on the table before everyone gets hangry — tie one on.

Hard work looks good on everyone. The splatter does not.

Ready to tie one on?

Every apron is cut and sewn by hand, with pockets deep enough to be worth having.