Welcome back to the saga of the stained antique linen and the ultimate question:
What to do with it now?
This is not a story to start in the middle, so if you missed the first part, go read it. We’ll wait.
After receiving Janet’s question and photos—and asking more questions of my own—it was time for the next conversation.
Janet, thanks for sending the additional pics. I’m now ready to share my experience and thoughts with you. But before I do, you should ask yourself the question: Will it be “the end of the world” if this family piece I may be about to wash gets ruined? While that’s a rare occurrence, there is always some level of risk to laundering a vintage textile. If you aren’t comfortable with any level of risk, you should consult a textile professional—not a professional dry cleaner, but a true textile professional with museum-level experience.
If, however, you’re not 100% risk averse, read on. In order to minimize risk, there are A LOT of things to evaluate and consider. I’ll walk you through my thought process as if this were my own piece. Hopefully it will provide you enough information to make your own informed decision about how (or if) to attempt cleaning.
Remember friends, this piece is not typical because there’s no single date of origin. In fact, this piece spans many years; centuries, actually! The linen was woven in the 1700s, but the crewelwork was added in the 1960s, so both “pieces of the puzzle” have to be first assessed separately—and then together. It’s tricky.
“First glance” condition of the 1700s linen base fabric
- Oxidation (storage) stains should lighten easily with proper cleaning in hot water.
- Snag must be stabilized before cleaning.
- Colored yarns raise an immediate red flag due to possibility of dye transfer/bleed.
Stability of the 1700s linen base fabricThe linen appears to be in good shape and, from what you’ve told me, there are no places of dry rot or weakness except for the one snag. Hold your piece up to the light to see if there are any other holes. If there are, they could simply be an “opening” in the weave that will likely close when cleaning. OR they could be the result of a broken fiber, in which case the hole could get larger if cleaned. Big difference in the end, so look closely; I use a magnifying glass when assessing at this level.
If there are no holes other than the snag (or if there are no additional breaks in the fiber), at this point I’m still open to the possibility of cleaning.
“First glance” condition of the early 1960s crewelwork
- Embroidery is well done with no missing sections
- Yarns on the backside are tight and secure
Stability of the early 1960s crewelworkThere appears to be little to no risk of damage to the strength of the yarn if a wet cleaning is attempted. However, colorfastness of the yarns is a different matter. To test for colorfastness, I dip the corner of a “scrap” white cloth (usually an old white t-shirt) into hot water; wring out excess water. With the hot cloth wrapped around my finger, I pick an inconspicuous area and press firmly on one color for several seconds. Repeat for each color. If any color transfers to the white cloth, the piece should never be washed in anything other than cold water (if at all). Some old threads, especially blacks, yellows, and reds, tend to bleed in hot water.
At this point, I should tell you about an old crewelwork piece I found in an auction box years ago. I loved it but knew nothing about its history. The linen base fabric was in excellent structural condition but badly stained; I decided to risk wet cleaning it. At that time I had much less experience cleaning vintage linens, and I made two significant mistakes: 1) I did not test for colorfastness, and 2) I used very warm water. The result? The base linen came clean beautifully, but the yarns faded and colors ran approximately an inch outward from the design onto the linen. I still have the piece as an example of what NOT to do.
I should also tell you about a beautiful, very stained, old piece I picked up for very little money 3-4 years ago. When I unpacked it last month after a recent move, I hesitated—again. To try to clean or not, that is the question. I have SO much more experience now, and yet I still hesitate because I really love the piece, and there is always risk involved. I honestly don’t know what I’ll decide.
Don’t let all these questions scare you!
I still haven’t told you my “final answer” to Janet, but there’s enough to think about in this post already, so let’s extend this story one more time and make it a three-parter. I promise . . . next time I’ll share the answer I sent to Janet. If you’re not already signed up to get notifications when I post, be sure to subscribe now so you don’t miss the rest of this story!
In the meantime, I’d really love to know . . .
- What do you think of Janet’s predicament?
- What would YOU do?
- What do you think I’m going to tell her?
I’ll see you soon!
Thanks for making me famous!
I’m still undecided about what to do, especially after seeing your piece with the stain on it.
Thanks for letting me know that you included the story. And again for sharing your knowledge to a random person just out of kindness. That’s the way it should be, but seems not to happen so often.
Janet
🙂 Janet, yours isn’t an easy decision, that’s for sure. So many things to consider BESIDES the sentimental/family attachment and how that affects the level of risk with which you’re comfortable. As for sharing my knowledge, thank you for your kind words. It’s been my pleasure! I love family linens (whether I know the family or not!), teaching others to launder old linens and return them to circulation (the best thing you can do for old linens is use them!), and a good story. I always love a good story, and yours is amazing. Most of us don’t have family linens we can trace to the 1700s, and if we do, they’re usually in much rougher shape than yours. Your family is to be commended for showing such respect for your history. Thanks for stopping by! I’ll share more of your story in a few days.