Most people close to retirement dream of what they’ll do in their final years.  They make plans to travel places they’ve never been.  They may decide to move to a warmer climate,  or closer to their children in another city.  But as I approached  retirement, my plans were more mundane.  I vowed I would never wear clothes that needed ironing, and I would only wear pantyhose to weddings and funerals.  With unironed clothes and no pantyhose , I would be free at last.

From what I’ve read, many millennials don’t even own an iron.   But as a department manager at an acute care hospital  in the 20th century,  I was expected to wear starched, ironed , white lab coats.  I could hide a wrinkled blouse under that coat, but not a skirt.  And so, I still  had to set up the ironing board every Saturday.

Does anyone remember when people had ironing days?  If you’re my age, you  may recall that Monday was wash day, and Tuesday was ironing day for all the stay-at-home moms. Monday morning, my mother would put a pot of beans on the stove and descend to the basement with baskets full of dirty clothes to be put thru a wash tub, a  a rinse tub, and then a wringer.  In winter, damp clothes would be hung in the basement or attic; in summer they were pinned to a clothes  line outside.  I must admit,  sheets dried in the fresh air smelled divine.

Many women ironed  not only outer clothes, but sheets and underwear.  My former mother in law even ironed rags!  It’s hard to believe anyone would care to spend their time on such tasks.

By the time I was a working Mom, we had washers and dryers, which greatly simplified the entire laundry ordeal. And yet, most clothes still had to be ironed.  Even today, if you want to look spiffy, you must wear ironed clothes if you’re a lawyer or some other professional. But the rest of the workforce has gone casual, even wearing –god forbid—blue jeans and T shirts to work.

When pantyhose first went on sale, they seemed like a godsend.  Garter belts may look sexy in Playboy magazine, but they were miserable to wear. Worse yet, you had to stop several times a day to straighten your seams or  refasten sagging hose.   Pantyhose simplified everything, except that they felt hot and sweaty most of the time.  I’m amazed, even today, that some women still wear pantyhose.

So, here’s how I fulfilled my promise to myself. Bare legs with  sandals or flats.   Cotton socks with athletic shoes or boots.   I own one pair , each, of  black and  beige pantyhose , to be worn on  rare  formal occasions.

95% of the clothes my husband and  I wear are of modern fabrics.  On wash day, I pull  clothes from the dryer  while still warm.  Some go on hangers, others are  carefully folded.  I don’t care at all if they have a few wrinkles.  I have never ironed underwear, sheets or rags,  and never will.  I’m still a little old school sometimes, and  like a crease in  slacks. And so, perhaps once a month, I grudgingly set  up the ironing board.

Why do I love  my retirement years?  No more pantyhose or ironed clothes.