Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
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When I was growing up, my father didn’t do many chores at home but ironing his button-up shirts was something he was quite particular about.
He started with the collar, then one sleeve at a time, ensuring there was a single crease, then the back was done carefully with the pleat in the middle, then one front at a time on top until the shirt looked crisply ironed. His meticulousness with the crease on trousers was similar. A sharp crease was important, he told me.
The ironing wasn’t done on a fancy ironing board; we didn’t have those until later. It used to be a hard surface, either a few bed sheets folded on the dining table or on top of the stacked steel storage boxes (trunks – we called them in India) which were handy during our moves every three to four years. He let me try ironing a few times so I could learn. My inexperienced hands would struggle to get the single crease, and I would try to rush the process. He would redo it to show me how it was done. The concept of single crease has stayed with me. Every time I iron a button up shirt I remember dad’s process. The slow intentional movements with accuracy to a crisp neatly ironed set of shirt and trousers.
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In the world of wrinkle-free garments made of rayon and viscose fabrics we are losing the art of ironing. In India, where I grew up, there are people who work as “press wallahs” to take over the chore.
As our family became more financially comfortable, the press wallah would come in the evening to pick up clothes for ironing and deliver the ironed stack in the morning. It was convenient especially as dad had gotten busier with work but often, he would rework the crease to his satisfaction.
I wondered why the crease was so important. As you wear the clothes through the day they wrinkle, so who really pays attention to even notice if there is a single crease on your sleeves?
For dad it was never about anyone else. He lived with the philosophy that if you are going to do something you do it properly or don’t bother doing it at all. The single crease is for you; it is important because of the time you spent ironing that shirt. You either do it properly and do not cut corners or simply buy clothes that don’t need ironing.
Paying close attention to the creases while ironing was a form of meditation I suspect for him. He often was lost in the tasks he carried out. Deeply engrossed in reading, studying, doing small DIY jobs around the house. There was nothing else that distracted him at that moment. It also showed up in his tea drinking ritual where he enjoyed dipping his biscuits in the tea and smacking his lips as he savoured every sip.
I am often labelled as someone who is too sincere. If I am given a task at work or if I decide to do something I put my heart and soul into it. I didn’t even realize this was unusual until it was pointed out to me. I had been taught to live this way by my parents. I learned by watching them do simple tasks with utmost care. It was all around us, the curtains my mother sewed for our living room, the carpentry project my dad took up to make a box for our holy book, the courses he signed up for when they moved to Canada – only content with an A or A+ in his tests.
With him being gone for two years now, I miss his physical presence. I miss our moments of enjoying samosas, drinking tea together, exploring cafes around Calgary, talking about books we are reading, grocery shopping and many more moments we shared. Strangely, I see him all the time, in tasks that I do. I remember how he would have done them.
Your life is too short, he would say, if you are going to do something you better do it properly or not bother doing it at all. I hear these words now when I iron a button up shirt. As I refine my single crease on the shirt I am going to wear today, I feel dad with me showing me how to not cut corners and do it properly.
Jasmine Kang lives in Calgary.