Clothing Speaks
Grace came to school one morning soon after the talk about builders in soaps, and said:
”Miss Dean, mother wishes we would find out about clothing, how different kinds should be washed. She says she is not sure how my baby sister’s flannels should be washed, and just what soaps are best for them.”
”My mother has been saying the same thing,” said several of the children.
”I think it is only fair that our clothes should have something to say about the kind of soap that is used on them,” said Miss Dean. “Those baby flannels might smart if they were washed with some soaps.
”Suppose in our next industrial science period we listen to what clothing has to say for itself. We may hear quite a family history from different kinds of clothing, as to what sort of family each is, and how it likes to be treated.
”By the way, are there many clothing families?” asked Miss Dean. “How many have we in this room? To what family does your coat belong, Jimmy?”
”To the wool family, I hope, Miss Dean,” answered Jimmy. “The salesman who sold it to father said it was all wool.”
”My dress belongs to the cotton family,” said Mary, getting the idea.
”And mine to the silk family,” said Gertrude.
”My handkerchief belongs to the linen family,” said several at once.
And then no one said anything. There did not seem to be anything more to say. They looked at each other’s clothing, but no one could think of another family.
“But, Miss Dean,” said Grace, “there are so many different materials in the stores - I never stopped to think that they all belong to just those four families.”
“Almost all do,” said Miss Dean, “but a new family has quite lately arrived, and I am wearing a dress belonging to it. My dress is made of a piece of wood.”
d“Wood!” The word popped out of a dozen round mouths. “It looks like silk.”
“So it does,” said Miss Dean, much amused. “So much so that we call such material artificial silk, or rayon.”
“Oh, I know about that,” said George. “We have a magazine at home that tells about it. I remember the pictures.”
“Suppose, then, you lead your row, George, and bring in some interesting facts about rayon. Everyone in the row will help you all they can.
“If each of the other rows will agrees on some family in the same way, we will have some good stories on Friday.”
Friday came, and as usual there was something interesting on the big table.
There were pictures of sheep, a pile of clean, soft, crimpy wool, and balls of wool yarn.
There were pictures of worms, small and big, some eating a meal of leaves, some shutting themselves up in cocoons. There was a box of cocoons, and by it some skeins of shining silk.
There was a picture of a cotton field with the pickers going up and down the rows. Real cotton bolls were on the table, with the foamy white cotton bursting out of their opened tops.
The next picture showed a field of straight-stemmed plants growing close together. By the picture was a bundle of long, dry stems like grain stalks, except for the tiny leaves near the top. Close by were two bunches of fibers. One was rough and coarse, the other fine, silky, and almost white.
Another picture show3ede men cutting down trees in an evergreen forest. The logs were shown reaching a mill where they were made into paper pulp. Some paper pulp was on the table. It was bleached white, and looked like rather stiff blotting paper. This was only an early step in the process of making rayon. The picture showed the paper pulp dissolved, treated in several ways, and finally pressed through tiny openings as threads of artificial silk or rayon. A skein of it was lying on the table, the most shiny, lustrous material the class had ever seen.
Almost everybody came to school that morning with a full school bag. These bags seemed to stay by the children as they crowded around the table. Suddenly--
There on the table with the wool were a pair of woolen hose, a sweater, and some soft, woolen, baby things.
By the silk skein appeared a pair of silk stockings, a lovely, bright-colored silk scarf, and some spools of sewing silk.
Spools of sewing cotton arrived also. Pieces of bright cotton dresses settled down on the table like a flock of butterflies. Good strong muslin was there also, and one piece of cotton so thin and fine that it was almost like a cobweb.
Beautiful linens appeared. There were pretty handkerchiefs, embrodiered towles and doilies, and fine, satiny napkins.
And then the rayons! Such shine and bright colors in the neckties and scarfs, and pieces of curtain materials, and blouses and sweaters!
“Why, where did all these things come from?” asked Miss Dean. “I should say the fairies had been here.”
“It’s a surprise for you,” said the children. “We planned it after school yesterday.”
“It is a most successful surprise,” said Miss Dean. “And I think that such lovely things certainly deserve to be allowed to tell how they like to be treated.”
But when the little wool shirts and socks, and the silk scarfs and other lovely things began to tell why they needed to be washed carefully, it’s a pity you weren’t there to hear. The boys listened as well as the girls, because neckties and sweaters and wool hose belong to boys, and no boy wants to be stupid about taking care of his own things. It’s a handy thing to know when a boy goes to college.
Well, here is a little of what Miss Dean and the children heard:
Wool spoke first: “Yes, I am a dreadful dirt collector, but I can’t help it. Look at my fibers and see how curly they are. Plenty of places for dirt to stick, don’t you see? So I need to be washed often, but I don’t like rough handling, and I won’t stand it! I shrink and get hard, and I never become nice and soft again. One reason why I do this is a secret, which I will tell you if you look at my fibers under a microscope.
Just here Miss Dean brought out a big microscope, and the children saw the wool fiber many times magnified.
”Why, they exclaimed, “it has scales like a fish!”
“True enough,” said the Wool. “That is my secret. And now I’ll tell you the whole story. When I am put in warm, soapy water my fibers soften a little, but hot water with soap that has strong alkali in it softens me dangerously, and even takes my strength away. Then, if I should be rubbed hard (and how we wool things hate that!) my softened fibers, or thread-like cells, all crisscrossed as you see, stick together so tightly that they never come apart again, and I feel as stiff as a board. If I didn’t have scales, with loose edges where they overlap, I might not behave quite so badly, but as it is these loose edges do hook into each other a little when they are rubbed. So please, put me in tepid water (that’s water which does not feel either hot or cold to the hand) with a mild soap. Then just squeeze me gently between your cupped hands, rinse me in clear, tepid water with the same gentle handling, squeeze the water out gently, and stretch me back to my first shape while I am still damp. Don’t hang me on a line to dry. Don’t rub or twist me, and I’ll promise you that your stockings and sweaters will stay soft and ‘stretchy.’”
Then Silk spoke up: “It seems to me, Mr. Wool, that you have talked a long time, and said most of the things I had planned to say. I know we both come from animals, but I think myself much daintier than you! I am the material of luxury, and make the loveliest clothes in the world. I think I have the right to ask for careful washing. I need the same care that you do, except that I do not have your bad habit of shrinking. But strong soaps hurt me just as they do you, and hot water makes me feel stiff and tender. So mild soap, please, tepid water, and no hard rubbing and wringing. If you wish to see how delicate my fiber is, look at me through the microscope.
After Silk finished speaking, came a sturdy voice: “I’m Cotton, and I don’t put on airs, but I do pride myself on being useful. If you will look for me in your homes and the world around you, you will meet me at every turn. I make good strong fabrics that can stand hard washing with strong soaps if necessary, and even boiling, which is more than can be said of you, Mr. Wool and Miss Silk! But I also can make fabrics so fine and sheer that they are dainty enough for baby dresses or the garments of a queen. Don’t you think such fabrics should be washed carefully? Soaps too strong with alkali, such as caustic alkali, do weaken me a little, especially if the water is hot. I grow on the cotton seed, so I am called a seed hair, and I have curly hair, at that. Look at me through the microscope and see the curls in my fiber, which people call twists.”
Then Linen spoke, with dignity: “I do not need to put on airs, because everybody knows what I am. People treasure me for years and hand me down to their children. I am worth taking care of, because I am costly. If you will look at my fibers through a microscope you will see how I grow - straight, fine lustrous. But you will also see that my fibers look a little stiff, and have tiny joints. Think of this, when you find yourself rubbing me too hard, or putting a hot iron down on a tight fold on me. I can’t stand things like that. My back breaks. I don’t like strong soaps, although they do not hurt me as much as they do wool and silk. Please wash me as you would fine cotton.
Rayon was next: “I am so new that I haven’t learned all about myself, but I do know this: I have a strange way of getting weak when wet, but strong again when dry. If you will remember that, you can wash me as you would wash silk. But don’t please, rub me when I’m wet, or wring me. I’m simply not strong enough to stand it. And don’t hang me on the line with clothes-pins, or I may become full of holes! Press out the water and roll me in a towel until you get ready to iron me, and don’t have a very hot iron. If you will treat me carefully I will wear and wear, and always look fresh and bright.
”I don’t believe you know how useful I am getting to be. I heard the other day that I am being used in more different ways than any other fiber, and I know that every year my fiber grows better and stronger. Don’t you want to see me under a microscope? I look a little like tiny glass rods.”
Then there came a chime of voices: “We are your bright-colored dresses, pink and blue and lavender and green. We don’t like to fade away, so we ask you to wash us this way: Use tepid water and a mild soap. Squeeze us gently, work quickly, rinse quickly in cool water. Squeeze out, and roll us in muslin or towels until dry enough to iron. By rolling us like this, our colors will not run into each other and look streaked. Iron us with an iron that is not very hot.”
”Well,” said Miss Dean, as the voices ceased speaking, “I shall treat my clothing with great respect after this. I am sure it will stay nice longer, and I shall not have to buy new clothes so often.”
Things for you to think about:
Could you tell the story of how the wool of the sheep or the silk of the silkworm becomes sweaters or stockings?
Could you tell similar stories about cotton and linen and rayon?
This chapter helps you to know how to wash your own pretty things. How doest it tell you to wash your sweater, or stockings, or other clothing made of wool? How should you wash silk?
What are the reasons why we should wash linen, and rayon, and colored clothing carefully? Tell how you would treat each in washing or ironing.
Give one or two reasons why our underclothing and stockings cost more nowadays than twenty or thirty years ago. Is this a reason why we should know how to wash them as carefully as possible?
What is rayon? Name some ways in which it is being used.
Try washing your scarfs and stockings and other nice things in the way about which you have heard.
Internet Links to Help you on your Way
Wool
Fun Facts about Wool
Silk
Cotton
History of Cotton
How Cotton is Grown
The Story of My Cotton Dress (from The Child Labor Bulletin, August, 1914
Linen
What is Linen
A Short History of Flax
Rayon
History of Rayon
How is Rayon Made?
Where would you like to go next? 
