My Mum thinks I should iron more. I think she’s craaaazy. She thinks that everything I wear needs ironing. Which reminds me, don’t let her anywhere near my rather large smalls. Not that she loves ironing or anything. Oh heck no. Not an ironer at all. But she does love a crisply ironed shirt/pant/freakin’ everything. Me, meh. Not so much.

In fact for a while there we didn’t even own an iron. Nope. One broke and we didn’t replace it. For ages. if we needed to iron we ducked off down the street and broke into my brother and his wife’s house and used theirs. We were the ironing bandits. Sometimes Jess would do it for us. THAT was a total score. It didn’t happen often.

So our strategy has always been crushable, wash and wear clothes. But you know the ultimate issue with these type of clothes? They stretch and one day your size 16 stretchy skirt is stretched to the max and you’re a size 24+ and you missed it. Damn you ironing. Damn you to hell. This would never have happened without how much I hate your guts. Errr. What? Moving on.

So I’m wondering if you have any tips to limit the need for ironing? Help a Suger out.