Presto (Patience)

My shirt bucket materializes beneath a magic oak tree when summoned.  

My shirt bucket materializes beneath a magic oak tree when summoned.  

    Remedies for stains often have a whiff of magic.  Treat red wine with white, as if the latter is the cosmic opposite of the former and, when introduced, both will vanish in a poof of cancelled ions.  And do we all realize that the prevailing theory for why club soda is superior to plain water is that the former’s fizz levitates the stain from cloth?  As for commercially available products, I would be hesitant to squirt anything with sensational claims on my clothes, no matter how charismatic (or Australian) the spokesperson.  

    The rather boring truth is oil and water-based marks in washable cloth—what we commonly refer to as stains—can be removed or lessoned with soap, hot water, rinsing and patience.  That last bit—patience—is crucial.  Soaking a soiled garment is often the difference between salvation and the Salvation Army.

    First, a word on prevention.  I suspect qualms about tucking a dinner napkin into a shirt collar can be traced to a common fear of the lace jabot.  This strikes me as a legitimate concern, as demonstrated by George Lazenby in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.  But if splash-prone foods are forced upon me, I prefer jabot to uh-oh.  The other, and more sensible option, is to avoid dishes with a higher probability of splatter.  Soup is deadly; Alaskan crab legs worse.  Strand pasta is dangerous too; of course most Italian men I know are not afraid of temporarily looking like Lazenby.  

    Despite precautions, stains happen—sometimes just as magically as those cooky remedies mentioned above—and when they do, a good soak is the wisest option.  The vessel is important.  I prefer a standard round bucket as its narrow opening prevents garments from merely floating on the surface, and a large one will keep five or six shirts comfortably submerged.  This bucket should be dedicated to its role, something best achieved with masking tape, a permanent marker and a sternly worded message.  A lid is useful, but not necessary.  

    A good solution is hot and soapy.  Some swear by white vinegar as its mild acid seems to loosen stains and deodorize, but I find natural white soap works much better and without the unpleasant Greek salad top notes.  Using a micro-plane grater, grate several tablespoons of soap into the bucket; fill two-thirds full with very hot water, stirring to dissolve soap; plunge garments; leave the house if you cannot resist the urge to prod and stir and fuss.  Several hours later (or the next morning) lift the bucket into a deep sink and run cold water into it until the garments are thoroughly rinsed.  Drain, squeezing extra water out, and launder as usual on a gentle cycle.  Hang-dry and press.  

    Admittedly, soapy water and buckets are less exciting than hocus-pocus potions and alakazam additives.  If you feel the above procedure lacks pizzaz, consider painting your bucket black and adding a brim: your shirts will emerge like pristine bunnies from a top hat.  Personally, I am satisfied with the slow magic of soap, water and time.