I Bought A Laundry Basket. It Ended Up Solving Four Other Things First.
Six weeks, three rooms, and not one of them was the one I bought it for.
I said in my last post that I would tell you what I told the people who kept asking me about my basket. Then about forty more of you asked, so here it is properly.
The short version is that I bought one of the Quilted Laundry Baskets from Evely Rose Boutique for the towels in our hallway, and in six weeks it has been borrowed for three other jobs entirely. My sister has one. My neighbour now has two. Between the three of us I do not think a single one of them has ever gone near a washing machine.
Every house has a pile of something with nowhere to live. You know the one. It moves — from the chair to the landing to the end of the bed — but it never actually goes anywhere, because there is nowhere for it to go. Ours was towels. My sister's is the dog's things. My neighbour's is her grandchildren's blocks and picture books, which end up in a heap by the sofa every Sunday.
I did not need a nicer laundry basket. I needed somewhere for the pile to live.
I had been through two of the cheap ones before this. A nylon bag on a wire hoop, the sort you buy for a few pounds and stop seeing. Both of them sagged into the corner within a month, and the handle on one tore the first time I carried it upstairs full. I had rather given up and started shutting the bedroom door when people came round.
So. Four things I have watched this basket do that have nothing to do with laundry, and then the one thing it does that does.
The Dog's Things In The Hall
This is my sister's. Her spaniel's leads, the rope toy, three tennis balls of varying disgrace and a squeaky thing shaped like a carrot, all of which used to live in a carrier bag under the coat hooks. She has the Bello Barkside Magic one, which is covered in stitched dog faces, and she is quite unbearable about how well it goes with the boot room.
The thing that actually matters is that it stands up on its own. A bag slumps the moment you take something out of it. This does not, so the dog's things stay in the basket rather than migrating back across the floor by Wednesday.
"Bought it for the washing and it has ended up in the hall with the dog's bits in it. He has already worked out that is where the ball lives. It has not tipped over once."
The Grandchildren's Toys
My neighbour bought hers after seeing mine, for exactly this. Blocks, a rabbit that has seen better days, and the picture books that get read four times each and then abandoned. Sunday afternoon, everything goes back in, and the sitting room is a sitting room again in about a minute.
She chose the Lulu Cat Parade, which has two cats asleep on a shelf of books stitched round the side. Her granddaughter calls it the cat basket and will apparently only tidy up into that one, which I think tells you something about whether the design matters.
"I keep it by the sofa for the little ones' toys. It is soft-sided so nobody has barked a shin on it yet, which the old wicker one could not say."
The Spare Blankets Nobody Has A Cupboard For
This one is mine, and it is the job I did not see coming. We have four throws and an airing cupboard that was full before they existed. They used to live folded on the end of the bed, which meant they lived on the floor.
Rolled and stood on end, all four fit in the Fillia Wildflower State Magic with room to spare, and it sits beside the armchair looking like something we chose rather than something we could not find a home for. That is the bit I would not have believed until it happened.
"I have the lupin one next to my chair with the blankets in. Two people have asked where it is from and neither of them realised it was a laundry basket."
The Wool, The Needles, The Half-Finished Things
A woman from my walking group knits, and has the problem every knitter has, which is that wool does not stack. Hers used to be in three carrier bags behind a chair. It is now in the Daisy Bee one, needles standing up in it, with whatever she is halfway through folded over the rim.
She says the best part is that she can carry the whole lot into the other room in one go when the football is on. The handles are stitched canvas rather than glued on, so they take a full basket up a flight of stairs without any drama.
"Mine holds my wool and it is the first thing in that room I am not slightly embarrassed by. The bee is beautifully done, it is stitched not printed."
And Yes — The Laundry
I should be fair to it. It is very good at the thing it was sold as. Ours started by the airing cupboard with the towels in, which is where I expected it to quietly stay, and my husband began using it without being asked. After twenty-three years of marriage I am calling that a result.
The part I appreciate most is that when it eventually gets grubby — and it does, everything does — the whole thing is washable. That is not true of wicker and it is certainly not true of the wire-hoop ones.
"Washed it after about two months, it came out perfectly and went straight back to shape. I did not expect that and it is the reason I have ordered a second."
It Folds Flat When You Have Had Enough Of It
Worth saying, because it is the reason you can own more than one without the house filling up. When my neighbour's grandchildren go home, hers folds flat and goes under the bed until the following Sunday. It takes about three seconds.
The designs wrap the whole way round, too, which sounds like a small thing and is not. There is no plain back panel — so it does not matter which way it faces in the room, and you are not forever turning it to hide the seam.
"Folds completely flat. I have one out and one under the spare bed for when everyone descends at Christmas."
This, Against The One You Have Already Got
I am not going to pretend a basket is complicated. But having owned both, the difference is not subtle.
Which size is right for you?
Shown to scale · measurements are diameter × height
Each basket is cut and finished by hand, so sizes may vary by an inch or so.
About The Price
They start at £34.95, down from £70. I will be honest, I hovered. Thirty-five pounds is not nothing for something to put washing in, and I have bought the four-pound version twice, which if you do the arithmetic is the more expensive habit.
What changed my mind was my sister's, sitting in her kitchen looking like a piece of the room. I ordered mine the same evening and did not think about the money again after the first week.
There are dozens of designs — cats, dogs, bees, lupins, sea turtles, wildflower meadows — and three sizes, so the awkward part is not whether to get one, it is narrowing it down. Delivery was free and it came quickly, though I gather that offer does not hang about.
If there is a pile in your house with nowhere to live — and there is, there is one in everybody's — it is worth ten minutes of an evening working out which design you would actually pick. That is the hard part. The rest of it sorts itself out.
Diane
The Quilted Laundry Baskets
- Stands up on its own, full or empty
- Hand-quilted, thick cotton
- Stitched canvas carry handles
- Design wraps the whole way round
- Folds flat when you don't need it
- The whole thing is washable
- Three sizes · dozens of designs