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Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality

There are some things about doing laundry that few people mention; I suppose most of us choose to bluff our way through it rather than complain, though. After all, washing machines accept lots of stuff they’d perhaps rather not: clothes that reek of cigarette smoke, or excessive garlic; and then there are the malodorous sweaty clothes after a morning at the gym, or the reek of the contents a sports bag after coming home from a game of hockey. I don’t play much hockey anymore -well, actually I never did- but I still wash smelly stuff, okay? I mean Hope springs eternal…

And if it’s a sunny day, some of us carry the freshly washed results to hang on the clothesline out in the yard to dry. Of course, most people who live in the city don’t have the space to rig much of a drying-line; they resort to the usual brand-name household driers. Still, given the pace of urban lifestyles, they occasionally forget to empty the machine until the next morning. And then, an unpleasant surprise sometimes greets them: the ‘wet dog smell’ -well maybe a less pungent odour, but anyway one that bespeaks clothes insufficiently washed.

I mean the odour is not unbearable or anything, just unpleasant; insufficient laundry detergent is usually blamed, although repeat washing seldom solves the problem. I have to admit that since I live alone, I have probably become used to the smell; maybe most bachelors smell like me, and like the smell of much-used shoes, accommodate to the odour. Anyway most people choose to soak themselves in deodorant sprays, after-shave lotions, or perfume, so the whole problem might go unnoticed… I sometimes even spray underarm deodorant in my shoes if I’m going to a restaurant with anybody.

I certainly didn’t pay undue attention to clothly odours until one day, after a long run and subsequent load of laundry, I was so tired (I’m an octogenarian, eh?) that I forgot to empty the drier until the next morning and was greeted by a damp rag smell. I thought perhaps I was witnessing the first (okay, another) symptom of impending dementia by forgetting to completely empty the washing machine. A quick peek into the empty bowels of the washer, disavowed me of at least one worrisome prodrome (although I have to admit that I had to inspect it two or three times just to be sure).

I worried about it for a day or two, ruminating (as I am prone to do with as yet unsolved puzzles), until I happened upon an article that offered a better explanation of the phenomenon than Alzheimers[i]: the answer lies both with biology and the science of textiles.

Damp fabric at room temperature is apparently close to an ideal microbial habitat: there is ‘warmth, moisture and abundant food in the form of skin cells, sebum (skin oil) and sweat residues that may survive a normal wash cycle.’ The bacterium most responsible for the smell is called Moraxella osloensis.  Despite the drier, this unpronounceable species can still produce smelly compounds.

But, it’s not just the clothes that gather microbes: ‘household washing machines themselves host persistent microbial biofilms (colonies that detergent alone struggles to remove), especially around door seals and in the detergent drawers of front-loaders… Each cycle, that biofilm can reinoculate freshly washed laundry, so clothes can emerge from a “clean” wash already carrying the seeds of the smell.’

And, wouldn’t you know it, ‘If laundry is left wet long enough, or dries too slowly in a poorly ventilated room, fungi can join the bacterial party. Mould and mildew produce their own volatile compounds, notably geosmin, the molecule behind the “earthy” smell of rain-soaked soil.’

I have to admit that the prospects of winning the laundry room battle seemed to be almost beyond reach as I read further: ‘polyester is hydrophobic – it repels water. Unfortunately, it’s also lipophilic, which means it readily absorbs oily compounds in sweat and sebum.’ Furthermore, ‘odour compounds migrate fairly easily from sweat into fibres, so polyester retains substantially more of them than cotton.’

I mean most sports stores seem to promote synthetic products because most are moisture-phobic; they do not mention the lipophilicity in bold print however -and who reads the fine print on a label even if it’s there: there’s no glossary. Anyway, even with repeated washing, they often retain a guessably sporty smell that I supposed I had learned to tolerate, because it portrays more healthy activity than my daily naps will allow.

Of course, one can try other stuff, like re-washing with really hot water after soaking the offender in vinegar (really??). Uhmm…

Or remembering to empty the drier as soon as the little buzzer sounds (which I can’t hear in the next room even when I choose to wear my hearing aids). I suppose, if you ignore the ecological warnings on the soap box or the frowns of the people in the grocery store lineup, you could always use products that contain enzymes or oxygen bleaches (whatever they are) that might also  break down biofilms in the washing machine.

Ever mindful of the eco-police though, I am in the habit of using cold water in the machine wash-cycle to save energy, but this also gives odour-causing bacteria a chance to vacation not just in my washing, but in the machine itself. Still, you have to be a bit OC to check the label of every bit of clothing to see if it will survive high temperature water; I mean fat chance, eh? I’m a bachelor…

It seems to me to be a bit of a catch-22: damned if you do and smelly if you don’t. Cotton and wool unlike polyester, are hydrophilic and unlikely to trap the oils that seduce the type of bacteria your mother probably warned you about. But would you wear a woolen bathing suit, or a cashmere wool sweatshirt on a beach run? I have two pairs of merino wool socks that I wear when I am jogging though, and even if I leave them on the bedroom floor I don’t notice any odour when I get up at night: a proof of concept, I suppose.

But a girlfriend once bought me an atrocious green moisture-wicking sweatshirt to show she was serious about me. But then she went away to visit her parents, and when she returned I didn’t wear the sweatshirt; I said I might have left it in the drier after my last run, or something. She un-twinkled her eyes, stamped her foot, and claimed it was because I didn’t really appreciate the trouble and expense she’d gone to. I wasn’t sure why she’d think I’d wear it on a date, though. One thing led to another I suppose, and even though I said I’d wear it next time to make up for it, we never connected much after that .

But actually, I’d also been worried that even with a pre-wash I’d never get off the grease from the honey doughnuts I’d had at the Food Court or the stains from the spaghetti Bolognaise I had at home after coming back from an afternoon walk. Still, I suppose I should have told a different lie to her or something, eh? And probably not that I’d already burned part of it somehow on the barbeque grill one night…

I figured she’d never believe how I live. I’m not sure I do either.

[i] https://theconversation.com/why-does-laundry-get-smelly-if-it-stays-wet-a-textile-scientist-explains-how-to-fix-it-288729

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