Folding Corners
by Shya—Age 30—New York City
I do this thing my friends call “folding corners.” I didn’t name it. It’s when I take a piece of fabric, usually the edge of a sleeve or that lovely little stitching right where a zipper is sewn on to the coat, or maybe even, OK, I’ll take the tip of the collar if I’m wearing one. So I take it and I gently fold it in half so the fabric has a nice bend, a bend I can feel, something substantial, a crease, a bend, and my fingers begin to itch a little. Then I take the crease, the bend, and I roll it slowly between my fingers, back and forth, rolling, and then fold it the other way and do the same until the whole area feels supple, softer, and then I fold it in half again until I can’t fold it anymore, until the fabric bunches too tight and I let it unravel. I can’t tell you how satisfying this is. The first thing I do when I get a new piece of clothing, sometimes even before I wear it, is find the best corner on it to fold. Some of them are hard to find. Sometimes it takes a while but I find it, I find it, even before I snip off the tag I’ll know the best corner, the crease, and given it a little roll. I have a pair of pants, this one pair of pants, and most of the fabric is too soft already and it doesn’t have many good corners but there’s one, there’s one that’s right exactly in the crotch and I don’t get to fold it much except when I’m sitting on the toilet and then it’s right there and so right as I sit down I’m at it, I’m kneading the stiff seem where the legs come together and rolling it against my thumb and index finger, pinching it gently, and pressing it more firmly, then bending it back. Folding corners. I’ve stopped writing twice to fold the corner of my sleeve; I’m wearing my favorite green shirt; it has so many wonderful corners to fold, it has so many, I’m never going to give this shirt up. Never.
(Repost)
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