Starch

I like to think I'm not a complete moron. But in 26 years of wonderment and critical thinking, I have still failed to understand why anyone would voluntarily use starch in their clothes. Makes zero sense to me.

I'll confess that I like clean clothes. A lot. I'll also confess that I despise wrinkled clothes, probably more than I like clean clothes. And throwing all my cards of honesty out on the table here, I'll confess that I'm an avid ironer. I like my clothes fresh and ironed. They don't have to be pressed necessarily, just tolerably clean and wrinkle-free. No big deal.

Perhaps this further muddies my perplexity with the usage of starch. Spraying starch on your clothes inevitably results in wrinkles, usually within 10 minutes after getting dressed. This especially pertains to a morning commute. Why starch your shirt when you're about to sit in your car and drive to work? Open door, get in, sit back, buckle up, wrinkle shirt. And not just sort of wrinkled -- terrain-map-of-the-Appalachians wrinkled.

"Ironing your shirt and then getting in your car is the same thing. So, why iron?" Not exactly the same thing, dude. Wearing clothes for any given length of time is going to result in some wrinkles. Just the way it is. Ironing removes ungodly, unnatural wrinkles and gives you a fresh look throughout the day. Starching stiffens your clothes and exacerbates any natural wrinkling, guaranteeing you a messy, wadded ensemble by lunch. Not to mention that it feels like wearing a pizza box.

Much to my chagrin, there are some real dedicated shirt-starchers out there. My dad is one of them. Starches every buttoned shirt, no questions asked. It astounds me. Where's the advantage? What are you gaining? You're morphing your shirt into construction paper, only to ultimately maximize the wrinkling capability of every woven thread in that shirt. Come on, Dad...