What's Happened to the missing
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Two socks enter the washer. Two socks exit the dryer.
As household tasks go, what could be simpler? A pair of socks goes from
drawer to feet to dirty clothes to washer and dryer and back into the drawer.
Of course, anyone associated with a social group that faintly resembles a
family knows the truth. Socks do disappear. Virtually every residence in the
free world has a drawer, pile or basket of mismatched socks. Millions - no,
billions - of socks drift aimlessly without mates.
"Washing machines and dryers eat socks," says my wife of 27 years, who
oversees the laundry in our seven-person family. There are other theories, of
course. Sock heaven, is one. A Bermuda Triangle for socks, is another.
For whatever reason, our family's mismatched-sock pile grows and grows,like
an expanding cotton-blended Blob. Two or three times a year we try to match
socks. Far too often, they remain alone, sentenced to the rag pile, one wipe
closer to the garbage.
The first case of mismatched socks likely dates to 3,400 years ago, when
the Hittites, who lived in present-day Turkey, designed a cloth foot covering
to prevent sand from getting between their toes. The Hittites, incidentally,
wore sandals. Sandals over socks. Trendsetters, those Hittites.
Today, sock sales in the Unites States are about $4.9 billion annually.
Perhaps because I seem responsible for about a $1 million of those sales, I
just lose it over mismatched socks. As frustration builds, I erupt, like any
normal, sock-wearing person.
Once, when my daughter Allyson was playing competitive soccer, her black
game sock came back from the wash inexplicably partnered with one of my black
dress socks. When I put them on, the sports sock reached my knee; the dress
sock climbed past my ankle. "Who in their right mind would put these two socks
together?" I shouted in a rage.
My wife, returning clean clothes to drawers at the time, answered: "If you
don't like how we do socks, you can do the laundry." By emphasizing "you" and
modifying "laundry" with a word unsuitable for this page, my wife revealed to
me for the first time that she is truly capable of murder.
Since no matches existed for these black socks, they, too, were exiled to
our pile.
"I share your pain," says Gail Hammond-Gibson, 48, who manages the laundry
in her Freeport household of four that includes husband Bill, 40-something,
daughter, Nowell, 15, and son, Julian, 13.
The family has a bag of lonely, single socks. "The problem is the bag of
mismatches is larger than our supply of good socks," she says.
Although she has no proof, she wonders if socks are made specifically to
disappear, or whether there's a conspiracy between the weavers of socks and
appliance manufacturers. "It's all about buying new socks," she says.
Hammond-Gibson's son seems to be the only family member who has a plan for
keeping his socks together; he folds the tops of one open end into the other.
"At least they get to the washing machine paired up," mom says.
The youngster is on to something, says Audrey Reed-Granger, a marketing and
public relations executive at Whirlpool, a Michigan-based manufacturer of
appliances. The journey from hamper to laundry room is fraught with danger for
socks.
Contrary to popular opinion, washers and dryers do not eat socks,
Reed-Granger says, and she insists there is no conspiracy between the hosiery
industry and the appliance manufacturers.
There are logical explanations for single-sock phenomena. First,
Reed-Granger says, most socks do not make it to the washer in pairs. "Boys
shoot dirty socks into hampers like they're shooting basketballs," she says,
"so socks end up behind furniture or under the bed."
Then she asks me if I've ever followed my wife as she carries a load of
clothes to the washer.
I reluctantly admit that my wife often leaves behind a trail of single
socks, T-shirts and unmentionables.
"So here is proof that small items, most often socks, never actually get to
the machine," Reed-Granger says.
The logic is based on research by Whirlpool's Institute of Fabric Science,
which studies how consumers use things like washers and dryers. The institute
also claims static cling causes socks to divorce. Even when a pair gets through
the washer and into the dryer, static cling can split them up. A single sock
can be swallowed by a pillow case or a pant leg, which hints of textile
cannibalism.
"The laundry room has been unfairly identified as a Bermuda Triangle for
socks," Reed-Granger says. "But, really, it's not the fault of the room or the
machine. It's you."
Well, not me. And certainly not Mary Ellen Zimmermann, 46, of Kings Park.
After 20-plus years of laundry, she knows exactly why socks go single: "They
escape to sock heaven." If you were a sock, she asks, wouldn't you be looking
for greener pastures?
Reed-Granger understands. "Before joining Whirlpool, I had a lot of missing
socks, too, and I thought I was going crazy."
Zimmermann is a trauma program manager at Jamaica Hospital, so her
profession has prepared her for the household laundry tasks. Or vice versa.
Missing socks were not much of a concern when her children were younger. But as
her three boys and two girls grew and sock sizes and colors became more alike,
the mismatched pile at the Zimmermann house - like the one at Hammond-Gibson's
- began to dwarf the good-sock supply.
She partially blames her sons - Matt, 20, Timmy, 16, and Danny, 13 - for
feeding the single-sock monster in her home. "They need socks, so they just get
two from the single pile," Zimmermann says. "Mostly, they are white socks, and
they are clean, so they don't even care if they match." So now, dirty socks
returning to the Zimmermann clothes hamper go in as mismatches.
With daughters Jessica, 19, and Katie, 18, away at the College of Mount
Saint Vincent in Riverdale, N.Y., Zimmermann now faces the task of matching
socks by herself. Her husband, Mark, 46, a New York City firefighter, is no
help, believe me; I know the guy.
"Every week or so, I go through the pile, trying for matches, but most of
the time, I just give up and buy new socks," she says in frustration.
One solution is using mesh laundry bags, which keep socks together before
they reach the laundry room, Reed-Granger says. Experts like author Linda Cobb,
the self-professed "Queen of Clean," says clips and rings - sold as SockCops
and SockPro and designed to link single pairs as they wash and dry - also
prevent socks from disappearing. Reed-Granger prefers the mesh bags, because
she says such plastic items could loosen and potentially damage the appliances.
To hell with bags and organizing clips, scoff those who launder regularly.
Especially those like Zimmermann and my wife who have large families. Bags,
clips and rings are too much work. Plus, deep down, they are true believers in
the household legends of sock heaven and sock-munching appliances.
Again, Reed-Granger understands. So much so that she grudgingly reveals
there is a rare - an extremely rare - opportunity for a washing machine to
gobble up a sock.
Under the lid of the traditional machine is a gap between the tub and the
drum, Reed-Granger says. "You have to really, really overload a top-end
machine, so when the cycle starts, a small item could be flipped up into that
gap and be lost."
To those who toil under mountains of grimy clothes, all the while haunted
by the ghosts of single socks, it finally makes sense. "What did I tell you?"
my wife says.
The queen likes clips
Linda Cobb, who has written books on laundry, organizing and household cleaning
never had a problem keeping her socks organized.
"Let's face it, I am the Queen of Clean," says Cobb, who raised one son and
has a Web site (queenofclean.com) dedicated to cleaning and organizing tips.
Her 2001 laundry book, "Talking Dirty Laundry With the Queen of Clean" also has
advice on socks seeking Splitsville.
She advocates the use of sock holders - discs and clips that keep pairs
together from when they hit the dirty clothes basket to when they exit the
dryer - for eliminating the disappearing sock syndrome.
For large families, using such devices might be time-consuming. Cobb says
put the kids to work. "Make the children do it," she says. "Make them clip
together their socks when they put clothes in the dirty laundry."
Another solution is putting socks in mesh laundry bags. One bag for white
socks and undergarments, and another for colors.
"If you have more than one child, color code their undergarments," she
says. Boys' underwear can be divided into gray, navy and red, for example,
while girls get white, pink and light blue.
Another source for laundry tips is Whirlpool's Institute of Fabric Science,
instituteoffabricsience.com.
- GARY DYMSKI
No partner, but a purpose
What can you do with single socks?
Making sock puppets comes to mind, an especially inexpensive crafts project
for letting children explore their creative side. There are hundreds of books
for making such puppets, including "Sock and Glove," by Miyako Kanamori
(Perigee Trade Paperback Original/Penguin, $12.95).
For more practical uses
- like covering your
hand to make a furniture dusting glove - check out
singlesocks.com.
Here are some ways to use single socks:
Make a draft dodger. Cut the toes from several socks, and then sew them
together to make a tube. Stuff the tube with more socks, then cover each end
with a sock to complete the dodger and cut down drafts from doors or window
sills.
Polish and clean items in the garage or shop. They're excellent for
applying car wax.
For that matter, use them to apply shoe polish. Or for a final buff
afterward.
Large socks can be slipped over shoes. This is for messy projects, like
painting.
For cats, fill a sock with more old socks and catnip. Then sew it up to
make a nifty toy.
For dogs, make a similar toy. Fill it with a tennis ball or two.
Slip over hands for cleaning dusty ceiling fans. Or blinds.
Create a storage sleeve. Use for coins, small toys (like Matchbox cars) or
game pieces.
- GARY DYMSKI
Keeping them all together
To buy sock holders, visit these Web sites:
www.sockcop.com - A 20-clip bag is $8.99, plus shipping.
www.sockpro.com - A ring-shaped collar. A bag of 20 is $4.99. Three-,
four- and five-bag value packs get free shipping.
www.cyclopssockclip .com - Three 20-clip bags from this London-based
manufacturer, including shipping, run 10 pounds (about $20.16), plus shipping.
