The Mystery of Dry Cleaning -- by Nate Winter

Taking clothes to the dry cleaners is a familiar situation for most of us. Even those of us who seldom wear dress clothes will occasionally find ourselves with a suit, tablecloth, or other sensitive item in need of dry cleaning. It's out there and it's pretty much unavoidable. So what is it?

In this age of ultimate consumer awareness and strict enforcement of product and service quality, it seems as though no stone goes unturned in the attempt for customers to get the upper hand on businesses and even entire industries of ill repute. Web 2.0 has given access to consumer ratings and made grassroots policing of business ethics a sword by which to live or die. People want to know that their diamonds were not a product of slave labor and that their coffee beans come from real, honest, hard-working Columbian cocaine farmers. And they want to know that $5 from their purchase of a cherry red Hummer will benefit the Bono Goofy Sunglasses Fund.

I think it's admirable that people aim to be conscious of the methods involved in the products they consume and services they patronize. It's protection from a blissfully ignorant society in which everyone believes what he or she is told without question.

Now some might say, "Why dry cleaning?" It's fair question, considering that there are probably hundreds of common products and services whose origins are a mystery to us. However, I don't believe dry cleaning is a completely arbitrary topic choice. In my mind, dry cleaning falls under a larger category called, "Laundry." Americans understand half of this category very well and the other, dry cleaning, half not at all.

Our society takes its clothing quite seriously. How we look is important to us, hence the importance of traditional laundry.

And when it comes to traditional laundry, we happen to know quite a bit. We know the various brands of laundry detergent and whether we prefer powder or liquid. We know which wash settings, water temperatures, and detergent quantities are appropriate for certain colors and materials. We know there is a wash cycle, a rinse cycle, and a spin cycle. Following the washing machine, we know that clothes go in a dryer and are then sometimes ironed, sometimes folded or put on hangers for storage in a closet, dresser, wardrobe, etc. And the average American knows at least that much about traditional, at-home washing.

Now ask the average American to describe the dry cleaning process in detail. She'll say she drops her clothes off in a soiled, wrinkled lump and picks them up a few days later pressed and hung. Somewhere in between, the clothes end up on that ridiculous monorail contraption with a 50,000-garment capacity that weaves through the dry cleaner's store like lines at an amusement park. Everything else is pretty much a black hole-caliber mystery.

It's not like we're ever at the dry cleaner for very long, but you'd think that over time we'd develop some clue as to what goes on there. But, no. When you walk into the shop you never catch them in the midst of dry cleaning. You catch them tailoring something, serving another customer, talking on the phone, or playing with the hanging monorail. But never actually dry cleaning.

So what is dry cleaning? What are they doing to my clothes that I supposedly can't do myself? Now let me be clear: I'm not asking for a chemistry lesson, here. I am looking for something far more basic: what does the process look like? Are my clothes run through a large machine on a conveyor belt? Is there some sort of wind tunnel that blasts the dirt off? Is there a Rube Goldberg-inspired series of mechanical devices involving springs, leather boots, boxing gloves, and bowling balls? Do extreme temperatures come into play at any point? Honestly, what is it?

For all I know they're hosing my clothes down with Febreeze, passing them off to someone with an iron duct taped to each hand, and hanging them on the monorail 15 minutes after I drop them off.

I think a lot of the mystery comes from the term "dry cleaning" itself. It strictly defies the "cleanliness requires wetness" rule that exists for almost every other method of cleaning. Examples include floor mopping, car washing, hair shampooing, bathtub scouring, teeth brushing, regular laundry, and countless others. These methods of cleaning require a cleansing agent (soap, detergent, etc.) and a rinsing agent (water). Both are wet. So how the hell do they clean clothes dryly? Apparently, dry cleaning is the cold fusion of the cleaning world.

It all starts when we buy clothes. If they look good, feel good, and the price is right… sold. You get the garment home and one look at the tag tells you its fate: dry clean only. When a garment falls into dry cleaning territory, it enters a shadowy realm of secrecy and intrigue. The meager "Dry Clean Only" tag controls the garment's destiny. We're beyond our jurisdiction and totally helpless. We immediately cede all our laundering and garment care acumen to the experts, the higher power, the Dry Cleaner. Maybe the garment in question doesn't need to be dry cleaned. We suspect it would turn out just fine with a cold wash, a line drying, and quick pass of the iron. But we're not willing to take that chance. The tag has spoken.

I asked an objective sample of people who dry clean regularly and found that none of them knew what dry cleaning really is. I also found that, prior to my asking, none of them had been the least bit curious about it either. I was surprised that in this age where people care more and more about eco-friendliness, ethical treatment, and fair play, no one is curious about dry cleaning. So why do we question pesticides on our produce and UV inks in our packaging, while trusting dry cleaning so blindly?

In this case, I believe it helps to consider the source of our dry cleaning: Asian Americans. It comes as little surprise that when people think about dry cleaner proprietors, they automatically think Asian American**. Obviously not every dry cleaning employee is Asian American, but it's difficult to deny their dominance in the industry. I wonder if Asian stereotypes in general have anything to do with this inherent trust of dry cleaning. In my eyes Asian American is easily the most trusted American minority. Stereotypical Asian American traits include intelligence, respectfulness, hard work ethic, and reliability.

Perhaps all of these positive stereotypes* contribute to our unquestioning attitude toward dry cleaning. I envision the first stereotype-based dry cleaning thought process from years ago went something like this: "Hmm, an Asian dry cleaner. How novel. Well, Asians are smart. This guy was probably a chemical astrophysicist in his country of origin. I bet he dry cleans a damn nice shirt."

Today the Asian influence on the dry cleaning industry is so strong that people think twice about using a non-Asian dry cleaner: "Hmmm, there's a white woman behind the counter at this place. I'm not sure she really has the doctorate level credentials necessary to press my dinner jacket. I better find an Asian dry clea—oh, there's one across the street."

So we trust the dry cleaner despite our complete ignorance with regard to what he actually does. How did it get to be this way? How did this "don't ask, don't tell" culture of dry cleaning come about? And why hasn't anyone gotten to the bottom of it?

I have a theory that brings it all together. Here goes. The tag on our garment tells us if it needs to be dry cleaned or not. Where are most of our clothes made? Asia. Who sews those "Dry Clean Only" tags into our clothes? Asians. Who runs the dry cleaning industry in America? Asian-Americans. Are you starting to catch on?

It's a self-perpetuating cycle that assures an Asian stranglehold on dry cleaning and overall garment care in America. It's genius. Well done, Asians and Asian-Americans. You make a hell of a team. You're just quietly going about your day-to-day business of monopolizing a multi-billion dollar industry right under everyone's noses. Bravo.

And because dry cleaning is a service that people rely on so heavily, who would dare to question it? Who wants to jeopardize inexpensive, high-service dry cleaning? A strike from the International Brotherhood of Asian-American Dry Cleaners would cause utter chaos. The very fabric of our civilization would unravel: business people without properly pressed shirts, gravy-stained table cloths, ties bearing the indelible mark of raspberry vinaigrette. Oh the humanity! To that donnybrook I say, "No thank you."

So that is the result of my investigation. And while we're no closer to understanding what dry cleaning actually is, at least we understand the complex socio-economic structure that keeps it a secret. And now that I know that dry cleaning's secrecy is vital to an underground conspiracy of international clothing production and care that goes back generations, my well-pressed suits and I will be blissfully ignorant on the matter forevermore.

-- Nate Winter

*In the term "positive stereotypes," positive refers to the characteristics of the stereotype: intelligence, hard-working, etc., not the use or existence of stereotypes.

** I'm told that this is the result of discrimination from a few generations ago that forced Asian immigrants out of most other work industries. Seeing opportunity in tailoring and laundry, Asian immigrants capitalized on it and the result is no further than three blocks from you at any given time.