I picked every single thing in my house. Except the laundry basket. This is a letter about the one I finally picked
Six things this quilted basket does right that twenty-odd years of plastic never managed, from a woman who hadn't given her laundry basket a single thought until she saw her friend's.
I'm 59, I keep a neat house, and I'll start with a confession. Every single thing in that house was picked on purpose. The curtains took me two weeks to decide on. The throw pillows went through tryouts. Even the welcome mat had a shortlist. And the laundry basket, the thing I look at every day of my life, is a cracked plastic tub I grabbed at a big-box store around the turn of the century that simply never left. I never picked it. It showed up, it stayed, and I'm not sure anyone in America has ever really chosen their laundry basket. So this isn't a review. It's a woman who finally chose one, explaining why.
The basket I’m writing about is the Dachshund Sweater Parade Basket from Florence Pearl, a New Zealand shop based up in Auckland that’s been going since 2010 and now does a whole collection of these quilted baskets. I first spotted one in the upstairs hallway at my friend Carol’s house, stacked with towels and standing there as neatly as a piece of furniture. When the shop later asked if they could share my letter, I said yes, as long as I could be completely honest in it.
Mine, in my own upstairs hallway now. I figured Carol's was just for looks. It was full of towels.
Here's what twenty-some years with the plastic one taught me. A laundry basket only ever lives two ways. Hidden away when someone rings the bell, because honestly it's embarrassing. Or on display by accident, cracked handle and all, because you were halfway through folding when company showed up. Somewhere along the line I just accepted that the ugliest thing in my house would be the one I touch every day, and that was that.
I chose the curtains, the pillows and the welcome mat. The thing I actually handle every day just showed up one year and never left.
This basket is the first one I've ever owned on purpose, and after a month of filling it, hauling it, wiping it down and folding it away, I can tell you it comes down to six things.
The morning it arrived. It popped right up and hasn't slouched since.
It stands up on its own, even when it's empty
Even empty. It doesn’t slump into a sad heap the moment you take the washing out. It just stands there, upright, like it has somewhere to be.
Full or empty it stands there like a little piece of furniture. The plastic one went out with the trash that same week.
The design goes all the way around
The cats and their stack of books wrap the whole basket, so there's no wrong side to hide against the wall. Wherever you set it down, whichever way it lands, it's facing the right way. My plastic one had two sides too. Ugly, and uglier.
There's no bad side to turn to the wall. The black cat faces the doorway and every guest says something.
The handles are actually sewn on
Two sturdy canvas handles, stitched right into the basket, that a full load of wet laundry hasn't bothered one bit. They don't dig into your fingers on the stairs the way a cracked plastic rim does, which anyone who's carried a week of towels down two flights will appreciate.
Carried a full load of wet towels down two flights and the handles didn't so much as strain.
Soft and quilted, but it wipes clean
The quilted fabric is soft to the touch, but it shrugs off the everyday splashes a basket gets next to the sink, wipes clean with a damp cloth, and can go in the wash when it really needs it. Pretty things are usually fussy. This one isn't.
It sits by the bathroom sink and gets splashed all the time. A quick wipe and it looks brand new.
It folds flat when you need it out of the way
It's light, it folds down flat to slide under the bed or onto a closet shelf, and then it pops right back up. When the whole family comes for Thanksgiving and every corner is spoken for, the basket cooperates. The plastic one never cooperated with anybody.
Folded it flat under the guest bed when my son visited with the dog. Popped right back up afterward like nothing happened.
Three sizes, and dozens of designs
A small for the bathroom, a medium for the bedroom, a large for the family wash. And the Cheerful Whiskers is just one design of dozens. There's one covered in a whole crowd of colorful dogs that I've had my eye on for the guest room, which is apparently how this starts.
A medium for the bedroom and a small for the bathroom. The prettiest useful things I own.
This basket, next to the one that just showed up
Nobody buys a laundry basket on purpose. That's the whole problem. One appears somehow and stays for decades. Here's the difference, side by side.
About the price
Right now, the small is $89.95, down from $299.95. The medium is $95.95, down from $319.95, and the large, the family-wash size, is $105.95, down from $355.95.
A word of warning, kindly meant: they’re clearing the collection right now to make room for the new season, so it’s heavily reduced, and there are dozens of designs — cats, little dogs, lambs in a meadow, soft florals, the coast. Once a design sells out, it comes off the website and that’s that. Which is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to know.
If your laundry basket also just showed up one day and stuck around, this is the one I'd put in your hands myself, while the design you want is still there.
Margaret
Cheerful Whiskers Laundry Basket
- Soft quilted fabric with a sunny wildflower meadow stitched all the way around
- Wipes clean and folds flat for storage
- Three sizes, from a small bathroom to a family-size load
- Dozens of designs in the collection
- Free NZ Shipping · 30-day free returns
About the writer.
Margaret Ellis is 59 and lives in Auckland, New Zealand, where she keeps a vegetable garden and a neat house. She's a customer, not a writer.