How do I know? ‘Cause I’m looking out the window, watching the clothes on the line sway in the breeze. Hanging clothes on the line is one of those quaint traditions (I can’t bring myself to call it a chore) that I just love. I’m conscious that calling it quaint is probably insulting in some manner. Possibly it marks me out as privileged in more ways than I’ve considered. Surely there are many many people in the world for whom it is a necessity instead of a luxury. Certainly there are far more people in the former category than the latter. But in the modern West it seems to be a dying activity.
I remember when I was growing up in rural Tennessee everyone had a clothesline, and everyone used it. Maybe half the people in town had a dryer, but they were considered expensive to run. So unless it was raining the clothes went out. Let’s face it the sun is free anyway you look at it, and people knew to take advantage of it.
As I became an adult and moved into urban America I saw fewer and fewer families hanging their clothing in the air to dry. Granted some of this is due to constraints on space. I get that. An apartment building is not particularly conducive to hanging clothing outdoors. But there also seems to have been a shift in mentality. It has been my experience that hanging ones garments in the open air is thought to only be done if you don’t own a dryer, or take the last step at the laundry mat. It is in effect advertising the fact that you can’t afford these things. Let’s face it the sun is free anyway you look at it, and who wants to advertise being poor or make themselves look poor even if they aren’t?
This is a surprisingly strong disincentive to using the resources of nature. I once had a neighbor complain that it made the neighborhood look trashy when I strung a line on my back balcony (overlooking my own backyard) to dry the babies cloth nappies. I was furious and politely explained to her that I hung them in the sun not only to save electricity, but also because solar rays are antibacterial and this is good for both diapers and the babies that wear them. I also curtly told her that I would do anything I liked on my own balcony, but I felt conspicuous from that day forward. It took a little of the joy out of the experience.
What I didn’t know at the time is that she may have had every right to complain my about my nappy line. The use of clothes lines is officially banned in many areas! Millions of Americans are not even allowed to string a washing line even if they want to. I am shocked by this! Shocked I say.
As aware as I was that my propensity to air-dry clothing was culturally at odds with my neighbors, it wasn’t until I moved to the UK that I really gave it much thought. Here, despite postage-stamp-sized gardens (yards, no one grows vegetables in an English garden) the vast majority of people find a corner to string up a line and hang out the smalls.
I take great joy in this. It means that, like today, I can hang it up, sit back and watch the breeze blow the moisture away. It doesn’t cost me a dime. My neighbors don’t look at me like a freak. I’m doing something good for the environment, or rather not doing something bad, and my life seems somehow more complete.
Does this seem like I am contributing too much importance to a mere clothes line? Maybe; but it’s all true. I would like to think that as people become more environmentally aware the humble clothes line may come back in style; that instead of seeing a line of T-shirts, towels, and jeans as an indication that the owner couldn’t afford the electricity to dry them, they might be seen as proof that the owner was green conscious. More states need to follow the example of Florida, Colorado, Utah, Hawaii, Maine and Vermont, who have passed laws (it’s ridiculous but yes laws were necessary) forbidding bans on clotheslines. I look forward to the day when I can sit at home in the States and watch the clothes sway in the breeze, just like I can when at home in the UK.
