The curious life of an apron

Do you wear an apron when you cook? I do, as I tend to be very messy in the kitchen. Recently, I asked a few of my younger friends if they wore one as well. When they looked at me quizzically and replied “Well, not often,” I began to wonder if this was a generational thing. It got me thinking about where aprons came from and how they’ve been used over time.

Aprons since the dawn of time  

Turns out, they’ve been around since ancient times, functioning as a practical piece of clothing to protect craftsmen such as blacksmiths, furniture makers, and of course, home cooks. The French gave us the word, naperon, which translates to “small tablecloth.” 

In modern times, particularly post WWII, aprons became the symbol of home, family, wife, and mother. Men wore them, too, but primarily to protect their clothing while tending the barbeque. Eventually with the 60’s feminist movement in full throttle, aprons fell out of favor with women. There were some exceptions with both men and women sporting bibbed aprons usually with pithy sayings such as “Real men bake” or “Always kiss the chef.”  However, in the workplace for chefs, butchers, and hairdressers, aprons still functioned as a protector of clothing.

A fashion statement comeback

Fast forward and today aprons in the kitchen are making a comeback. With our current obsession with food—either as viewers or active participants—Americans are once again wearing aprons. No longer is this item seen as an act of subordination or connected with the working class. People cooking at home, gardening, or enjoying one of many messy DIY hobbies now don aprons with total ease.

In my kitchen, there is a basket filled with aprons collected over the years. Some I inherited from my mother; others from cooking classes with logos that carry bragging rights; and some were handmade for me. My favorite is the flamingo-inspired apron sewn by my dear friend Jan after a cycling vacation with our spouses through Andalusia. 

Aprons as friends

I don’t grab just any apron when I enter the kitchen. My mood and the dish being prepared determine which apron I select, dressing for the occasion, if you will.

Discussing the apron topic with my marketing guru friend, Joan Brower , she observed that “Cooks and kitchen-loving people sometimes develop special relationships and emotional connections with their aprons.”  She claims, and I agree with her, that “We tend to view them as supportive ‘friends’ -- even extensions of ourselves. So, these inanimate pieces of clothing are trusted and appreciated as if they had human traits.”

So, what does your apron look like and what friend or experience does it remind you of when you wear it?