I was helping my sisters clean out a closet recently at our childhood home.
It was stuffed with outfits dating back 40 or 50 years, reflecting women's fashions that are now as dated as they once must have been darling.
I'm not sure why any of this clothing was kept and not discarded years ago, other than it was easier to let them hang - suspended in time - than to deal with them or donate them. There was also the not-to-be-ignored truth that our mother never threw much of anything away, figuring you never know when something might be useful again.
Were those bell-bottoms that just tripped past? Grab them!
Mom always though our getups would come back in style - which they probably have or will. What she didn't understand was that we would never be sized to fit into them when they finally did.
So my sisters and I sorted until the chore was complete and there was nothing left but dozens of coat hangers bunched along the bar at the top of the closet. There were the usual suspects made of wood and plastic and wire, and then there were the ones that stood out because of their fashion-ability.
They had been dressed up and someone had expended some effort dressing them up, time spent on something that will live its life in a closet, unassuming and largely inconsequential.
Yes, for the most part, clothes hangers are an ordinary lot. The plastic ones get hard and brittle and break over time. The wooden ones - about as upscale as you can get - are mostly for suits and larger garments. The wire ones? They've been around forever and have changed little. They are as practical as they are simple.
Individually, the hanger is an effective device that calls little attention to itself. As a group, they are much more twisted and cantankerous. They tend to get tangled up easily, often get cross-ways with one another and then become difficult to manage.
]Texarkana Gazette columnist Lyn Blackmon suggested once, years ago, that in such circumstances, they were likely mating. What else would you expect from something we keep tucked away for long periods with no supervision?
But up among the rank and file of this now-empty closet were a couple dozen hangers that had been crocheted. I remembered these always being around growing up. Maybe a '70s thing?
I have no memory of anyone in my family making even one of these, yet someone did - or many someones.
But why?
I get crocheting clothing, or scarves, useful things, but I don't get it for hangers.
You don't dress up something that will spend its days the dark. Make a potholder, at least! Or an intricate cover for a cell phone or steering wheel, something others will see and admire.
I understand knitting and crocheting can provide a kind of repetitive pleasure that can reduce stress. I remember my mom, my grandma, my sisters working with the needles from time to time. But it never became a lifelong passion for any of them. I'm not convinced even one of them ever completed a project. I don't think any of them added even one stitch to a hanger.
Darn them.
Yet, for all my pooh-poohing about this little craft, there apparently is still interest in crocheted hangers. You can find some fine examples online at places like Etsy or pinterest.com. You can buy old ones or find directions on how to stitch your own.
At the end of the day, my sisters and I threw all the ordinary hangers away. But the nicely wrapped, tightly stitched ones are still hanging in the otherwise empty closet.
I don't know what to do with them. I feel sorry for them. I know some effort was put into dressing each one up. Maybe the benefit was exclusively therapeutic, because there is only one practical reason for this kind of craftsmanship: Yarn keeps the clothing from slipping off the hanger.
Otherwise, the point is lost on me. n