Hanky Panky

Don't be snotty

I forgot to put a handkerchief in my pocket this morning.

I always thought the idea of a pocket handkerchief was equal parts old-fashioned and super gross. Old-fashioned because I was a voracious reader as a kid and all of the old-timey gentlemen were always offering their handkerchiefs to ladies. Also, in cartoons the men would lay down their handkerchief so a woman wouldn’t get her feet wet. While the former situation was confusing: why did the lady not have her own hanky? Was she supposed to blow her nose in it and then give it back??? Horrifying.

Which leads me to the “super gross” part. I will never forget the feeling of sneezing in church and having my dad reach over to try to give me his handkerchief. I mean, I needed to wipe my nose. But had I seen Dad wipe his nose this morning? I couldn’t remember, so I was faced with a choice: wipe on my sleeve and see the look of disgust from my dad and the rest of the pew, or use his potentially snotty hanky. I chose the latter, but obviously the shudder has remained with me since. For decades after that fateful morning I stuffed my pockets with tissue before church, and declared far and wide that “Handkerchiefs Are Revolting.” People refer to them as “snot rags” for a reason.

Over the past couple of years, my eyes have started watering. Not sure if it’s another fun perimenopause thing or something else entirely (the unceasing sweating can certainly be blamed on hormones), but I’m constantly wiping at my eyes and face with sleeves or tissues. Depending on what I’m wearing or the quality of the tissues, the area around my eyes can get irritated, which is annoying. Plus, you know, lots of trees being wasted and soggy sleeves. Around the same time, we started using cloth napkins at our house — trees again, and also just nicer. One evening I happened to wipe my eyes with my dinner napkin and thought, “Maybe I could just keep one of these in my pocket!” Yes, Dear Readers, I came up with the brilliant idea of… the pocket handkerchief.

I ordered 8 hankies from a shop on Etsy, white with pretty flowers and edges hemmed in different colors. They weren’t terribly expensive, so I’m not precious about them — I readily handed one over to a friend who spouted a bloody nose, and I made sure to say, “It’s clean! Don’t worry!” so he didn’t have to suffer with indecision.

Having a hanky in my pocket makes me feel pulled-together in an adult way. I don’t blow my nose in it, maybe a little wipe now and then if I’m crying about something. (I’m a crier.) It also makes me feel slightly elegant, even when I’m pulling it out of my jeans! 10/10, highly recommend this habit.

Thanks for reading. And thanks for understanding that these pieces can’t always be deep or meaningful. Sometimes I’m going to tell you about hankies, because the world is hard and everything that entered my brain this week felt too big.

Love, Susie