Wednesday, December 13, 2006
For the first few weeks here in Victoria, I was feeling like I could conquer anything as the Mighty Matron of Meals. Over the past couple of days, though, I was struck with the unnerving sensation that, well, something might be missing. Could it be because we came here with only the bare essentials, not even enough to stock our kitchen? Could it be that I was jealous of other kitchen queens who had things like these? (Not to mention other things like plates… those are still in storage in Calgary!) No, I mulled it over for a bit and decided that even though I do miss our salad spinner and our crock pot, I’m still managing alright without them. Also, even though some mornings it does seem a tad strange to eat our toast out of a bowl, it doesn’t make a difference to how the toast tastes, so why should I let it bother me? My anxious feelings, it seemed, could only be attributed to one thing: my lack of an appropriate Kitchen Costume.
If you look at ads for 1950s kitchen gadgets— or almost any ad from the 1950s, for that matter—you’ll notice that the Woman of the House is always looking charming in a costume befitting the circumstances. She has the picnic basket and sundress for her spontaneous (if rare) outings with the girls, the pearl earrings for dinner with her husband’s boss, and most importantly, the ubiquitous apron for her time spent indoors. I decided early on in this game that if I was going to be a housewife, I might as well be one of the best (you know me, not competitive at all...) Hence, being without an apron but with the company of a great lot of mystery yarn, I took matters into my own hands.
And… Voila! I am pleased to introduce my very own Kitchen Costume! (you'll have to look above, seeing as I've yet to figure out how to upload pictures except at the top of posts...)
Knit in glorious garter stitch on very big needles with clearance mystery 'yarn'/fabric strips, this apron might never actually be worn except in this photo shoot, but believe me, it fills a gaping psychological void in the life of this no-longer-desperate housewife.