A letter from a reader

At 59, I finally replaced the ugly plastic laundry basket I had hidden for thirty years

I have never written anything like this before, and I nearly did not. It is a laundry basket, after all. But three different friends have now asked me about it, so it seemed easier to just tell everyone at once.

For my whole adult life the laundry basket was the same sort of thing: a wobbly plastic bin, usually cracked at the handle, that lived shoved in a corner or behind the laundry door where nobody would see it. It did the job. It was also faintly depressing.

Useful, or lovely. A laundry basket, I had decided, could only ever be useful.

So I hid it, the way we all hide the ugly-but-necessary things, and never thought there was another option.

I did not choose that on purpose. Nobody decides their home should have an ugly corner. It just happens, one practical plastic bin at a time.

How it happens

The useful things for the home are almost always the ugly ones. Storage, in particular, seems to come in exactly two kinds: cheap plastic that looks it, or expensive designer pieces that cost more than the laundry inside them.

So you buy the plastic, you hide it, and you accept that the practical corners of your home are simply not allowed to be nice.

And a little joylessness in the everyday adds up over the years.

What I had wrong

Here is the bit I got most wrong. I thought a laundry basket that was actually pretty would be flimsy, or precious, or wildly expensive.

It is none of those. It is properly quilted, thick and structured, so it stands up on its own even when empty and does not sag into a heap. It has sturdy canvas handles that make carrying it easy. And it is covered, all the way around, in the loveliest tulips.

Useful and lovely, in the same basket. That is the combination I had assumed did not exist.

Mine is called the Lily

It is from Olivia Bennett Melbourne, a small Australian shop that has spent thirteen years quietly making the home a bit lovelier, and is closing for good now, after all this time.

It is called the Lily. A quilted laundry basket covered in tulips, with sturdy canvas handles, that stands up on its own. It comes in a whole collection of prints, and in three sizes, which is how I ended up with more than one.

The quilting is soft but structured, so it holds its shape whether it is full of towels or completely empty. The handles are properly stitched, so it carries easily. And the tulips are so pretty that it looks like something from a proper interiors shop rather than a chore waiting to happen.

That is really all there is to it. It is not complicated. It is just a useful thing that somebody made beautiful.

What happened when my daughter saw it

I had it sitting in the laundry, out in the open for the first time.

My daughter spotted it and assumed I had paid a fortune for it somewhere in town. I let her think that for a good minute. Two friends have asked since, and one has already ordered her own.

What struck me, though, was how much a small thing changed a corner of the house. A job I used to hide now looks cheerful, out in the open, and I find I do not mind the laundry quite as much. I bought a second one for the bedroom.

Three things I have learned since

One. Structured is what makes it look expensive. Because the quilting holds its shape and stands on its own, it looks like a proper piece rather than a slouchy bag.

Two. The handles matter more than you think. Sturdy, well-stitched handles turn carrying a full load from a struggle into nothing.

Three. The useful corners are allowed to be nice. One pretty basket made me realise how much of the home I had quietly given up on, and I am slowly putting that right.

About the price

I will be honest, the price made me a little suspicious.

The Lily starts from $64.95 AUD. It was $219.95.

My first thought was that a basket this pretty and this well made would cost a fortune, because the ones in the proper interiors shops certainly do.

There is no catch that I have found. It is a small shop selling directly, and everything left is going before they close for good after thirteen years. They are made to order, so each is made fresh. Once this run sells through, it will not be made again.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sitting outside with a cup of tea and you asked me, this is what I would say.

If you have an ugly plastic bin you keep shoving in a corner and meaning to replace, it is worth ten minutes of an evening to take a look.

Not because a laundry basket changes anything. It does not. But a small corner of the house being cheerful instead of hidden is a nicer way to live, and it is a very small price for that.

They come in a whole collection of prints, in small, medium and large, and because they are closing down and made to order, the popular ones sell out and stay gone.

The laundry basket is out in the open now, and I do not mind the laundry half as much.

— Allison