I am going to share a tip with you. This is a tip people would pay money for. I could partner with some evil genius to market this miracle product and retire to a staffed bastide in the south of France, but no, I am giving it to you absolutely free. Someone alert the Nobel committee, for this surely meets the criterion of greatest benefit to mankind.
The Origin Story
I had been to a funeral. I wore my favourite suit. It is a micro-fibre Armani trench-coat with matching pants, very Katharine Hepburn-esque and appropriate for a wide variety of occasions. The day had started early with a loop of errands and was to conclude with a visit to a friend's house. I brought a change of clothes as I knew I would want to ditch my heels as soon as possible.
One of my first stops on the loop of errands saw me collecting a big bottle of top-of-the-line olive oil as a gift from a friend. It glistened a warm citrine on the passenger seat as I hurried through my day. My stops included a fabric store, a hardware store, a garden supply place, and then on to the funeral. I was pretty chuffed with all that I was getting done, and in such an efficient manner, too.
When I got to my pal's place, the first thing I did was change into one of my more presentable sweatsuits. We had dinner and she sent me home with boxed-up leftovers.
Again, I must emphasize just how impressed I was with myself given how much I had got done on this exhausting 12-hour day. Pulling into my driveway I gathered up all I had collected over the day and let myself into the house. My arms were festooned with leftovers, garden supplies, a bag of fabric, and, of course, the olive oil. Draped over all of this was that suit I told you about earlier. As my hands were full, I did not reach for the light switch. I made my way to the dining room table so as to drop my load. Unfortunately, I had forgotten there was a rolled up carpet lying on the floor.
I fell like they do in the movies, only in the movies they would have a stunt double handling the action, as well as a hidden foam mattress to cushion the fall. Yes, it was a full-on face-plant with absolutely no capacity to break the fall.
As I lay face down on the carpet in the dark, I felt a viscous liquid seeping out from under me. My first thought? Blood. My second thought? Please let it be blood and not that bottle of olive oil.
Well, lucky for me, it was the olive oil. Falling onto a shattered bottle could have precipitated quite a different ending. I stood up slowly and surveyed the damage. My suit, my favourite suit, was soaking in olive oil, as was the carpet, but at least my internal organs were intact.
In moments like this, there is nothing better to do than go to bed. The mess would be there in the morning. The next day, I consulted with that couturier seamstress I told you about last week. She said to put the suit into a bag of flour and forget about it for a week.
The Miracle Solution
One week later, I opened the bag, shook the garment outside, and laundered it. This was one of those knock-me-over-with-a-feather moments. There was absolutely no evidence of this disaster. So now, my go-to substitute for dry-cleaning has become good old all-purpose flour and, sometimes, cornstarch. They are both capable of miracles.
This simple, inexpensive method has saved me countless trips to the dry cleaner and preserved many a garment. I encourage you to try it next time you face a greasy stain or a delicate fabric that requires special care. Your wallet and your wardrobe will thank you.
