The Suburban Apron Company

Admittedly, I'm new to the recently rediscovered lost art of housewifery. Until very, very recently, I was labeled a workaholic. So, with the strong encouragement of my husband, I've decided to take on the role of the stay at home wife. No more insanely long commutes. No more getting home late, leaving home early. No more schedules and deadlines. No more identity?

For the first week, I struggled with this lost sense of self. But since this transformation occurred in the midst of the Holiday Season, I did, however, discover a hidden culinary talent. I thought, "Okay, apparently, I'm a good cook. Now what?"

Now that the holidays are over, I've been living domestically. Laundering, Cleaning, Cooking, etc. But there are no incoming paychecks. So, I need to attempt to make some money while working at home. But how? There are infinite work-at-home scams out there. There are infinite pyramid schemes as well. And there are the traditional housewife enterprises, like Tupperware and Pampered Chef...

I had a couple of vintage cookbooks, so I decided to delve into the world of vintage housewifery. I've read and am re-reading, The Vogue Book of Menus and Recipes (c.1964) and The Modern Family Cookbook (c.1942). There is much to learn about hostessing and housewifery. I went online to discover a subculture of retro housewives out there and they all seem to be enterprising souls, much like myself. I emailed my friend, Stacey, who has been a stay at home mom for years. When I told her of the vintage, retro housewifery subculture, she was nothing but praises. She was equally enthusiastic, when I mentioned the idea of somehow making some extra pocket money by staying at home. Thus, the not very original idea of sewing and selling retro aprons was launched. While retro aprons are kitschy, cool, and fun, there are many already for sale in cyberspace.

Which is why you're reading this. I will maintain a diary of our struggles as we attempt to home-craft and distribute retro aprons, as The Suburban Apron Company, and I personally attempt to adjust to suburban, domestic bliss?

Until we meet for coffee,
Julie

Wednesday, January 4th, 2006