She said that the jacket was attached to joy and good times, that the jacket made the cut. As the client tells the story of the jacket, she shares that right after going through a divorce, she grabbed a duffel bag and filled it with the things she would take with her.
#THE LAUNDRY GUY SERIES SERIES#
One episode of the series focuses on the restoration of a leisure jacket that was originally made in the 70s or 80s.
It is tied to memories and attached to places in the heart that we still explore when we trip upon them. But there is always that thing-that shirt, that stuffed animal, that picture-that we don’t want to let go of because it is much more than just the object you see before you. There’s a worthwhile argument in the world to become minimalist-to stop hoarding and “have less,” and as I look around at all the things crowding the room I’m sitting in, I understand it. One of the client’s said, while wiping away tears, “I know this is so silly. In almost every episode of The Laundry Guy, a client will bring out some beloved piece of fabric, whether it be a sofa cushion or a denim suit, and ask for Patric to work his magic in restoring its former glory. She taught him that when you do laundry, “you do it because you love someone and you want to take care of them.” He was in the middle of restoring a knitted blanket and said that he hoped to make the owner of the blanket “feel like her grandmother loves her and is taking care of her when she looks at the blanket.” In the second episode of The Laundry Guy, Patric shares that his love for laundry came from his grandmother. I bring this up to tell you about a new television show called The Laundry Guy, starring Patric Richardson, a self-proclaimed “ laundry evangelist.” The show’s description reads, “Laundry expert Patric Richardson listens to clients’ meaningful stories behind irreplaceable pieces, from wedding dresses and baby blankets to stuffed animals and vintage coats, and then carefully restores the items to mint condition.” How lucky I am, having something that makes saying goodbye so hard. My mom passed away in 2017, and long after saying goodbye, memories of her still live within the threads of that tiny dress and sweater and on the strands of fur in that vintage coat. She had told me, “I never had anything like this growing up. But more than that, I remember how proud my mom was to help me put it on in the mornings. I remember my friends reaching out to touch the fur and marveling over the softness of it. When I wore that fur coat through the hallways of my small-town elementary school, I felt downright fancy. I remember wearing that to elementary school, even though I live in one of the warmest regions in the world.īut these pieces of clothing are much more than textiles and garments.
I was too small to remember that, and I don’t remember ever wearing the tiny sweater either. There are photos of baby-me wearing the pink dress, nearly swallowed up by its size on my tiny, malnourished body. Fur literally flies into the air if you try to pick it up. The majority of the space in the box is taken up by a fur coat made of 100% rabbit fur. It’s white with pink trim and my first name is emblazoned on the left side, woven into the pattern with pink block lettering my maiden name is on the right. There’s a Ziploc bag holding a tiny pink dress with crisp pleats and dainty green flowers and another bag holding a knit sweater small enough to fit on a baby doll. It sits on the shelf in the hall closet, and it’s filled with memories of my childhood. Home › Articles › Contributors › Resurrection: “The Laundry Guy” and Making All Things NewĪfter my mother passed away, I found an old Tupperware box among her belongings.
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