Laundromat Blues

The latest businesses hit by the recession are Laundromats.

Not only are people wearing items of clothing more times before tossing them into the laundry pile, people who have lost their jobs no longer need clean "work clothes" every day, either uniforms or the standard cubicle worker chino and sweater combination. As someone who has gone through years of having to haul laundry to a Laundromat, and also gone through bouts of unemployment, I understand both re-wearing clothes until the Febreze doesn't work anymore, and also wearing the same clothes repeatedly during unemployment.

Although I'm lucky enough to have a (no quarters required) washer and dryer mere floors beneath me, I still have a soft spot for the Laundromat. Between PA, OH, and IL, I spent so many hours in them. I think my favorite is still Suds in Champaign IL, a combination bar/Laundromat, where I'd go early, early Saturday mornings for the empty machines and quiet.

I've written previously about my Laundromat fascination. A Reason to "Cheer" was about the joy of finding my old Philly laundromat still open (although it's closed since the original post), and The Tides of Change was visiting a technologically advanced washeteria (good things end in "teria"). However, I was obsessed with laundry way before that.

The very first one-shot zine I did back in 2002 was a little mini called LAUNDRY BASKET: TALES OF WASHDAY WOE, full of contributions from many people about doing the laundry. A second edition is still available for sale in the SPCHQ Etsy Zine Shop. Here's the piece I wrote for LAUNDRY BASKET, about dealing with cranky Laundromat attendants.

Stupid bitch, indeed

Thanks to all the training from mom, I never had one of those “turn everything pink” disasters when I lived in a residence hall. After losing in the housing lottery after my first year, I spent the rest of my time in Philadelphia living downtown in a great, cheap little place. One of the reasons it was cheap was because it lacked laundry equipment, but there was a place just up the street that opened early and closed late called the Washbasket.

The first year or so that I used this Laundromat, it was fine. The owners lived upstairs and were around all the time. There was an old black and white TV that sort of worked, loads of old magazines, and a radio tuned to a Top 40 station. People were cordial enough, actually asking around before unceremoniously dumping wet clothes from an unattended washer that had finished spinning. The place was small, all single loader washer and dryers, except for two triple loaders in the very back.

However, the pleasantness was not to last. After a year or so, the owners moved to the suburbs, and left the Laundromat in charge of a rather cantankerous middle aged man. I could sense the change immediately. Signs appeared all over the walls:

DO NOT SLAM THE WASHER LIDS.
DO NOT SLAM THE DRYER DOORS.
DO NOT PLACE LAUNDRY BASKETS ON THE FOLDING TABLES.
DO NOT LEAVE LAUNDROMAT WHILE CLOTHES ARE WASHING.
CHANGE MACHINES ARE FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY!

The piles of magazines disappeared, and the TV was turned to face only him.

It was becoming a laundry police state and the new manager yelled and complained a lot, but I kept going here because it was convenient. However, my last load there was on a cold January day, when I accidentally oversudded a triple loader while washing my quilt, and the manager screamed, “Why did you put so much detergent in there, you stupid bitch!” when I asked for help. I let the washer finish, pulled out the soaking wet quilt, shoved it in a garbage bag, and walked out.

After the “stupid bitch” incident, I had to find a new place to do laundry. This turned out to be the blandly named “Fabric Care Center,” a TV-less, radio-less, attendant-less Laundromat with only an emergency number posted. It managed to stay pretty clean and serviceable most of the time, and most of the patrons picked up after themselves. I actually saw a few refugees from the Washbasket straggle into the Fabric Care Center.

(Photo from the Flickr set PoMo Laundro.)