I love to wear skirts and dresses (although they do get in the way, and are not helpful at all when I really need to get housework and gardening done. I couldn’t tell you how many times I have stood helpless as the vacuum cleaner hungrily wrapped my skirt around its manic spinning brush, never mind explaining how much damage a weed wacker can do to fabric before you can hit the off button). But, as impractical as my wardrobe can be, I enjoy it, and I wear it anyway, but dressing my kitchen in skirts is another matter.
Eclectic, bespoke kitchens are in style, and I am so glad that we finally want them to look like a room in our house, instead of an institutionalized afterthought for preparing food and opening take out containers. We want them to be homey and decorated, especially decorated; rustic, without being too countrified, and sophisticated without being cold and unwelcoming. And, we want the windows open and wide, preferably overlooking a scenic meadow, and we all want poured concrete and butcher block.
And, I couldn’t be happier, because I think every room should be dreamy, and that kitchens deserve as much love, beauty and comfort as the rest of the house, but somehow, to me, having a fabric skirt in a kitchen just seems like going to the shops and buying a small headache; it’s something else to clean, and a thousand more surfaces to attract all those random splatters and spills.
I honestly don’t know how people stay clean in the kitchen, and if I had a zoom on my television, I would probably use it to see if that white blouse that she is cooking in is as spotless as it seems to be. Because I am such a messy cook. I cook and bake all the time, but I can’t even wash a dish without sharing it with my fabric clad tummy, so I always wear an apron. And even my apron gets dirtier than I think it should. I am constantly wiping up, and my kitchen still isn’t clean, so I can’t imagine turning around and seeing fabric covered in goo that needs to be washed every time I get far too exuberant with the chicken and the flour.
So, I think, that as beautiful as some of these fabric laden kitchens are, maybe they aren’t quite as practical as they want us to believe. Maybe the woman who lives there uses her oven for storage, or she has people to clean for her, or maybe, just maybe she does gaze out at the meadow in her clean, white blouse, and is a far neater cook than I will ever be….
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