Dear Dry Cleaner,
Here is all I need. Is this too much for you to do?
1. Can you please, please, put a crease in my khakis the way you do all my other slacks? Is that too much to ask? Why do you arbitrarily decide that my khakis don’t need a crease? Without a vertical crease they have that flared-out horizontal look—like some horse rider’s jodphurs. Did you see me come in on a horse?
2. I wear a lot of knit shirts on “casual days” at my office. Maybe you’ve never noticed, but knit shirts in particular tend to take on the shape of how they are stored. If a knit shirt (after being cleaned) is nicely pressed and folded it will look nice on its wearer as well. But if it is hung on a wire hanger by its shoulders, those shoulders are going to look like the peaks on a lemon meringue pie. Please, fold my knit shirts and drape them—drape them--over the hanger! A little tissue paper inside wouldn’t hurt, if you can afford the extra expense.
3. Dress shirts. Now we come to the crux of the matter. I realize that a lot of guys really don’t care about dress shirts, but their company has a “Tie Policy.” So they can only wear a tie with a dress shirt—although some will challenge even that. Personally (I worked in clothing retail while in college), I love wearing dress shirts. For the past 25 years my dress shirts have all been custom made and they all have French cuffs—because, well, I also love (and collect) cuff links. So I want you to pay particular attention to how you launder and press my dress shirts. To begin with, let’s get them starched correctly. I like my shirts heavily starched. Heavy starch means heavy starch. Think Brian Williams on the nightly news. Not just whatever limp skim milk you happen to have in the tub. I want my shirts to come back hard as sheet-rock. Since I also like my shirts in a box, I would also appreciate it if you didn’t cram five shirts into a four-shirt box. And while you’re at it, please fold the cuffs back and clip them in place—instead of wadding them up whatever-which-way they go into the box.
4. Suits are the most expensive item of clothing a man wears. We spend hundreds—even thousands—of dollars on them. That’s why we don’t toss them into the washing machine. A little tender loving care is order when it comes to our suits. So when I bring my suits in to you, please take a moment to check their pockets for any loose change, tissues, or dog biscuits that may gum up the dry cleaning process. Not only do I expect my suits to come back neatly pressed (creases in the pants, remember?), but it would be nice if you could also send them back to me with some protective padding on the shoulders of their hangers. Would that be too much to ask? Hey, it would even be a nice idea to put some paper stuffing in their sleeves like they used to in the good old days. In other words, try to return my suits to me in some sort of packaging that will keep them looking nice until I actually put them on or transfer them to my own suit hangers.
5. Ties. Don’t worry about this one because there is no way I will send my ties to you for dry cleaning. Yes, I am one of those few people who actually likes to wear a tie—to work, to a wedding, to God’s house, to the theatre, to the dog run. When I go to France or Italy I can’t wait to see what kind of ties Lanvin or Missoni are serving up. I have almost a hundred ties in my closet. Most of them—well, actually all of them—are expensive by most men’s account. I go by the maxim, “Buy the best and cry once.” That’s why some of my ties are over twenty years old and I still wear them to the office occasionally—and get compliments. There is no way (it would be a frosty Friday in July) that you will ever clean my ties. I know your game. You mangle them in your ironing presses, you bruise them, and you overheat them—making them look like shit. Sorry, but I always send my ties to Tie Crafters for loving care and cleaning.
6. Finally we come to your tailor. Tailoring is an almost lost art. The simple fact is, there are very few good tailors anymore, but I will still bring my clothes to you to be altered—just because there is no place else to take them. So, if I bring my pants to you to have shortened and the waist taken in or let out, I would appreciate it if I only have to visit you once—not two or three times. Can we get it right the first time? It’s not like I grew (or shrank) in three days. Please mark my clothes to be altered with tailors chalk instead of sticking pins into everything. Pins fall out, in case you haven’t noticed. Finally, I prefer to have you mark up my clothes while they are actually on my body. Please don’t even think that you can just measure my waist and then measure my pants and then try to calculate the difference.
Here is all I need. Is this too much for you to do?
1. Can you please, please, put a crease in my khakis the way you do all my other slacks? Is that too much to ask? Why do you arbitrarily decide that my khakis don’t need a crease? Without a vertical crease they have that flared-out horizontal look—like some horse rider’s jodphurs. Did you see me come in on a horse?
2. I wear a lot of knit shirts on “casual days” at my office. Maybe you’ve never noticed, but knit shirts in particular tend to take on the shape of how they are stored. If a knit shirt (after being cleaned) is nicely pressed and folded it will look nice on its wearer as well. But if it is hung on a wire hanger by its shoulders, those shoulders are going to look like the peaks on a lemon meringue pie. Please, fold my knit shirts and drape them—drape them--over the hanger! A little tissue paper inside wouldn’t hurt, if you can afford the extra expense.
3. Dress shirts. Now we come to the crux of the matter. I realize that a lot of guys really don’t care about dress shirts, but their company has a “Tie Policy.” So they can only wear a tie with a dress shirt—although some will challenge even that. Personally (I worked in clothing retail while in college), I love wearing dress shirts. For the past 25 years my dress shirts have all been custom made and they all have French cuffs—because, well, I also love (and collect) cuff links. So I want you to pay particular attention to how you launder and press my dress shirts. To begin with, let’s get them starched correctly. I like my shirts heavily starched. Heavy starch means heavy starch. Think Brian Williams on the nightly news. Not just whatever limp skim milk you happen to have in the tub. I want my shirts to come back hard as sheet-rock. Since I also like my shirts in a box, I would also appreciate it if you didn’t cram five shirts into a four-shirt box. And while you’re at it, please fold the cuffs back and clip them in place—instead of wadding them up whatever-which-way they go into the box.
4. Suits are the most expensive item of clothing a man wears. We spend hundreds—even thousands—of dollars on them. That’s why we don’t toss them into the washing machine. A little tender loving care is order when it comes to our suits. So when I bring my suits in to you, please take a moment to check their pockets for any loose change, tissues, or dog biscuits that may gum up the dry cleaning process. Not only do I expect my suits to come back neatly pressed (creases in the pants, remember?), but it would be nice if you could also send them back to me with some protective padding on the shoulders of their hangers. Would that be too much to ask? Hey, it would even be a nice idea to put some paper stuffing in their sleeves like they used to in the good old days. In other words, try to return my suits to me in some sort of packaging that will keep them looking nice until I actually put them on or transfer them to my own suit hangers.
5. Ties. Don’t worry about this one because there is no way I will send my ties to you for dry cleaning. Yes, I am one of those few people who actually likes to wear a tie—to work, to a wedding, to God’s house, to the theatre, to the dog run. When I go to France or Italy I can’t wait to see what kind of ties Lanvin or Missoni are serving up. I have almost a hundred ties in my closet. Most of them—well, actually all of them—are expensive by most men’s account. I go by the maxim, “Buy the best and cry once.” That’s why some of my ties are over twenty years old and I still wear them to the office occasionally—and get compliments. There is no way (it would be a frosty Friday in July) that you will ever clean my ties. I know your game. You mangle them in your ironing presses, you bruise them, and you overheat them—making them look like shit. Sorry, but I always send my ties to Tie Crafters for loving care and cleaning.
6. Finally we come to your tailor. Tailoring is an almost lost art. The simple fact is, there are very few good tailors anymore, but I will still bring my clothes to you to be altered—just because there is no place else to take them. So, if I bring my pants to you to have shortened and the waist taken in or let out, I would appreciate it if I only have to visit you once—not two or three times. Can we get it right the first time? It’s not like I grew (or shrank) in three days. Please mark my clothes to be altered with tailors chalk instead of sticking pins into everything. Pins fall out, in case you haven’t noticed. Finally, I prefer to have you mark up my clothes while they are actually on my body. Please don’t even think that you can just measure my waist and then measure my pants and then try to calculate the difference.
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