A letter from a reader

At 64, my granddaughter told me my laundry basket was the ugliest thing in the house

I have never written anything like this before, and I want to say at the start that I am not a writer and I am not in the habit of telling other women how to run their homes.

But four different people asked me about my laundry basket, of all things, when they came over a couple of weeks ago, and I have now explained it enough times that it seemed easier to write it down properly.

It started when my granddaughter came to stay and made a face at the thing in the corner of the bathroom.

Grandma, why is your laundry basket the ugliest thing in the house?

She was not wrong. A cracked beige plastic thing, going gray at the rim, that I had been shoving behind the door whenever anyone visited for the better part of ten years.

I did not choose that, not really. Nobody decides to buy something ugly. You buy the cheap plastic one meaning to replace it, and then ten years go by.

How it happens

A laundry basket is the last thing anyone thinks of as nice. It is a chore, not a thing you choose to like.

So the stores sell us plastic bins and mesh pop-ups, all of them the color of a hospital hallway, and we buy them without a second thought and then quietly resent them in the corner of every room.

And because it is only a laundry basket, you never get around to doing anything about it. It is always the next thing on a list that never comes up.

What I had wrong

Here is the part I got most wrong. I thought a laundry basket had to be plastic to be practical. Wipe-clean, holds its shape, does the job.

It turns out a quilted fabric one does all of that and is lovely as well. It stands up on its own even when it is empty, the fabric wipes clean, and it folds flat when you do not need it. It simply happens to have a picture on it instead of being the color of nothing.

Practical and pretty were not a choice of one. I had just never been offered the pretty version. That took me until 64 to find out.

Mine is the Alys

It is from Wentworth & Rowe, a small family shop in Charleston, South Carolina, that has been quietly dressing women for twenty-eight years and has lately started making the ordinary things in our homes a bit lovelier too.

Mine is the Alys, a quilted basket with a whole seaside scene stitched around it, a sea turtle and starfish and shells in soft blues and sand. They do dozens of designs, though, from flowers to little dogs, which I will come back to.

It is properly made. The quilting is soft but structured, so it stands up by itself whether it is full or empty, and there are sturdy loop handles on both sides for carrying it up the stairs. The design wraps the whole way around, so it looks lovely from every side.

And it comes in three sizes, so there is one for a small bathroom and one big enough for a family's worth of towels.

What happened when people came over

It now lives out in the open, in the corner of the bedroom, where the plastic one would never have been allowed to sit.

Four different people asked me about it a couple of weeks ago. My friend Diane, who does not notice things, asked where I had gotten it. And my granddaughter, who started all this, has decided the turtle is hers and checks on it whenever she visits.

Nobody has ever asked me about a laundry basket in my life. Now it is the first thing they mention.

Three things I have learned since

One. It stands up on its own. This is the thing plastic never quite managed once it cracked. Empty or full, it holds its shape in the corner and does not slump.

Two. It folds away. When my daughter visits and needs the spare room clear, it folds flat and goes on the top shelf of the closet, which the rigid plastic one never could.

Three. A lovely one gets used. The odd thing is the laundry actually goes in it now, because it is not something you want to look away from. The plastic one just collected a pile beside it.

About the price

I want to be straightforward about this, because it was the thing that made me suspicious.

The Alys starts at $49.95. It was $166.95.

My first thought was that it was a lot for a laundry basket, until I worked out I had spent nearly that over the years replacing cracked plastic ones, and hidden every one of them behind a door.

There is no catch that I have found. They are a small family shop selling directly, and they are made to order, so each one is stitched when you order it.

I did what I imagine you are doing now and read all the small print before I ordered. Shipping is free, and you have thirty days to send it back if it is not what you hoped. That was enough for me.

Then I ordered a smaller one for the bathroom as well.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sitting out on the porch and you asked me, this is what I would say.

Have a look at the laundry basket in your bathroom. If it is plastic, and cracked, and you hide it when people come over, you have simply never been offered a nicer one, and now you have.

It is a small thing. But the small ugly things in a house wear on you more than you notice, and this is one of the easiest to put right.

Two practical things. The sale is on now, and the most popular designs sell out first, being made to order. And there are dozens to choose from, so there will be one that is properly you.

The plastic one went in the recycling and I have not missed it once.

Susan