A letter from a reader

Susan Whitmore
Boston · August 2026

I have never written anything like this before, and I should probably say at the start that I am not a writer, nor am I someone who normally tells other people what they ought to have in their homes.

But several people have asked me about one particular thing in my house recently, of all things, and after explaining it more than once I thought it would be easier to write the story down properly.

It started when my granddaughter came to stay and looked at the old basket in the corner of the bathroom.

“Nan, why is your laundry basket the ugliest thing in the house?”

She was not entirely wrong. It was an old plastic thing that had slowly turned grey, cracked around the rim and had spent the better part of ten years being pushed behind a door whenever anyone visited.

The old one. I used to hide it behind the bathroom door when people came.

I did not choose it because I particularly liked it. Nobody really chooses something like that. You buy the practical one, tell yourself it does the job, and then somehow ten years go by.

A laundry basket is probably the last thing most of us think of as something worth making attractive. It is simply there to do a job.

So we buy plastic bins, wire frames and folding bags without giving them much thought, then quietly tolerate them sitting in the corner of a bedroom or bathroom.

And because it is “only a laundry basket,” replacing it is always something for another day.

I had always assumed that practical meant plastic. Easy to wipe clean, sturdy enough, no fuss.

What surprised me was discovering that a quilted fabric basket could do the same job while looking like something you had actually chosen for the room.

It stands properly when empty, folds away when needed and feels much less like something that belongs in a utility cupboard.

I found mine at Murray & Warren Boston, a small boutique with a collection of home pieces that feel a little more considered than the things you normally find in the laundry aisle.

I chose the coastal design because the blues worked with our bedroom, although there were several other patterns I nearly chose instead.

The day it arrived. I did not expect to be quite so pleased about a laundry basket.

The quilting gives it enough structure to stand on its own, and the handles are sturdy enough to carry it from the bedroom to the washing machine without it folding in on itself.

More importantly, it looks perfectly normal sitting out in the room.

This was the part I did not expect. People started asking me where I had bought it. Not just family, either. A friend who normally notices absolutely nothing in my house asked about it before she had even taken her coat off.

Nobody had ever asked me where my laundry basket came from before. Now it was one of the first things people mentioned.

In the bathroom, on show for the first time in years.

One. It stands up on its own. Empty or full, it keeps its shape instead of slumping into the corner.

Two. It folds away. If I need the spare room clear, it can be flattened and stored without taking up half a cupboard.

Three. A lovely one actually gets used. This sounds ridiculous, but we stopped piling washing beside the basket because we no longer felt the need to hide it.

I will be straightforward about this because it was the thing I hesitated over as well.

It costs more than the cheapest plastic basket.

But I thought about how many inexpensive plastic baskets I had replaced over the years, and how long the last cracked one had stayed in the house simply because replacing it never felt important enough.

Once I had it in the room, the difference made much more sense to me.

If we were sitting together with a cup of coffee and you asked me whether it was worth it, I would tell you to look at the laundry basket you already own.

If it is cracked, discoloured or permanently pushed behind a door, perhaps you have simply never seen one that you actually wanted to leave out.

It is a small thing, certainly. But sometimes the small everyday things are the ones we look at most often.

The plastic one went into the recycling, and I have not missed it once.

Susan