Aprons (from the Mary Jane's Farm site)

Aprons by Mary T.

The sign of domestic authority I have noticed over the years that aprons - honest ones - carry in themselves an air of domestic authority. When an apron is worn by a woman who is hard at task, it is like a uniform. Business is at hand and there will be no shilly shallying. There are serious tasks to be accomplished. Fruit to be canned, food cooked, chores to be completed. One does not usually put on an apron just to lounge about or to go on a visit. No, aprons stay at home and tend to the work that must be done to keep the home fires burning.

All her years, my mother wore an oriental apron called a mamason. She always had a Kleenex in the front pocket and other oddities picked up from a days work: i.e. miscellaneous Legos that strayed from my brother's room, or a straggle of old yarn or fabric from some wild project I had cooked up. Sometimes treasures appeared from the pocket, candy or money for a swim at the pool. You just didn't know what was to be found in that mysterious cornucopia.

When I became a wife and mother I sewed my first apron. It took several days to take apart an old momason of mom's and make a pattern from it. After 20 years of washing and use the pieces had fused with the stitching to become what seemed a seamless garment. But patience paid off and I was proud the day I showed off my apron to my mother. I had graduated from girlhood. That winter I sewed a new apron for my mom from the pattern I had made. It must have tickled her to receive that gift. In my teens I was a radical activist, not a domestic engineer. But after joining the ranks, of course ones mind is likely to change. And so I marched into my new life of home schooling and whole wheat with my apron and not a few lofty goals.

I've been hard at work as a domestic engineer for more than twenty years now. I've had several aprons to my credit over those years. At present I'm flush with several high quality aprons. This is an unusual occurrence. I've not had more than two aprons at a time ever. Having an eclectic taste that verges on DID, my present collection ranges from demure to modern chef. From a lovely blue calico to screaming solid yellow. My momason has long since departed and the last apron I sewed lasted some years. It is a bit ragged. It looks like something a Russian Babushka (granny) might wear. Black with red stripes and little beets and yellow corn embroidered in between the red and green pin stripping. Alas, it is at the bottom of the tired apron pile now. Some good friends knowing my .unusual taste. gave me a groovy apron for Christmas. It is covered with VW beetles and peace signs. I wore it like crazy. So this year I had to set out on a search for another serviceable apron. Serviceable meaning: covering you nearly from head to foot. I'm creative: meaning messy. After a lengthy search I came upon a website for modest clothing. It had Amish dresses and bonnets and beautiful aprons. They are handmade and fit all requirements - including pockets. This is the most lady-like apron I have seen. (Donna Reed will be jealous.) A heart shaped neckline and scallops over the shoulder. And an inset waist with white piping covering all edges. Quite lovely. It is now my favorite. Except for those screaming yellow days when I wear my Pike Place Market apron, another gift from a friend.

Your aprons should speak to who you are and what you do. Even eluding to what you dream of. It should be something you are content to be in again and again and always enjoy. I have deep admiration for aprons. Over the years they have been a symbol of femininity, love, commitment, and frugality. Women have gathered food for their families in them and flowers for funerals. Aprons have been cried into, twisted into knots during times of great anxiety. Hidden behind when a new blushing brides dinner didn't quite come out to perfection. I should think there is more than one prairie wife who tore up her petty coat first for bandages before tearing up her apron.

Yes, a useful tool of womanhood is an apron. I think I will go sew one for my only daughter. She will become a mother this winter. How can a woman survive life, let alone motherhood, without a sturdy apron?