An iron the size of a smartphone

Something I'm glad I bought recently. It's this,

The National baby iron, 'Cutie'.

As you can see, it's an iron about the size of a smartphone. This sense of it being barely useful is just wonderful.

It seems it was made in the late 1970s. That was the era when the original 'Cutie Honey' was gaining popularity. I wonder if the body color was inspired by Honey Kisaragi's hair color.

Of course, it doesn't have the brilliance of transforming in an instant like she does, and like a typical Showa-era appliance, it takes a good five minutes to warm up, but when I let my guard down and accidentally touched it,

'Ouch!'

It had become properly hot, just like a full-sized one.

When it comes to appliances nearly half a century old, you need a certain amount of resolve to invite them into your home. Anxieties crossed my mind, such as whether it would actually get hot, or conversely, if it would get too hot and catch fire. Before pressing the purchase button, I asked Chappy, also known as ChatGPT, for its opinion, and it replied,

'It is too small and unsuitable for dress shirts and the like. It could be used for handkerchiefs or sewing projects like patchwork. Also, please be aware that old appliances carry a risk of fire due to internal deterioration.'

That was the opinion it returned.

However, a petty compromise of 'well, it's only two thousand yen' easily bribed my safety consciousness. Regarding the risk of fire, I figured I could manage by checking the cord and plug for any abnormalities and not leaving it for even a second while in use. Having steeled myself, I pressed the purchase button.

...In the first place, why did I end up buying a Showa-era baby iron in the Reiwa era?

I was the kind of child who would fold clothes into trapezoids,but I actually liked ironing a little bit. I was fascinated by the way the wrinkles in a dress shirt would smooth out right before my eyes.

Even though my mother would worry,

'Be careful not to burn yourself,'

she let me iron handkerchiefs at first, and once I got used to it, dress shirts too. The feeling of the fabric becoming crisp and clean where I had ironed was pleasurable, and I even started taking the initiative to iron T-shirts that I had previously worn all wrinkled.

However, just before turning thirty, I came to hate ironing.

The culprit is a cordless iron I bought when I started living alone. It was made by a well-known domestic manufacturer, with a chic brown color and a compact appearance. Being cordless, it was also incredibly easy to handle. I thought I had found the perfect partner.

However, this thing was completely useless.

First of all, it didn't really get the wrinkles out, which is the whole point. On top of that, when I used the steam, water would drip incessantly from the unit. Every time I slid the iron across the fabric, it would leave water stains, and while I would try to dry those stains with the heat, more water would drip out, forcing me into an endless battle against water spots.

Even I, as a child, was much better at it.

When I returned home to visit my parents, I complained to my mother,

"I can't seem to iron properly."

And she said, as if she saw right through everything,

"That iron is light, isn't it?"

She said it as if she saw right through everything.

When an iron removes wrinkles, it needs three elements: heat, weight, and steam. However, my iron was light, the steam didn't work properly, and it just got hot and dripped water.

Of the three pillars, only the heat was working properly. There was no way it could remove wrinkles like that.

As expected, the opinion of a professional homemaker was correct.

It was correct, but I felt it was a waste to get rid of an iron I had gone to the trouble of buying.

In the first place, I avoided clothes that wrinkled easily, so the iron didn't get much use,

"I only use it occasionally anyway,"

I told myself, and continued to use it while making do.

After that, even after I started living with my husband, that iron continued to stay in our home.

No, the iron didn't stay on its own. I was just avoiding the hassle of carefully selecting a new one.

Unable to bear the stress of it leaking water every time I used it, I finally had my husband look at it the other day. He is good at looking at the structure of home appliances and the like.

While looking at the tank, he said this.

It's cracked right here. Plus, there are parts that are glued and parts that aren't. No wonder it leaks.

What had been a vague situation of "it leaks for some reason" had now been identified as "it is clearly cracked."

Once that happened, I suddenly wanted to replace it.

This time, I searched for a "heavy iron."

However, it seems modern consumers are looking for lightweight irons. Manufacturers seem to be putting in corporate effort to make them even a gram lighter, and the heavy, substantial iron I was looking for was nowhere to be found.

Giving up on weight, I decided to settle for "as long as it doesn't leak, it's fine."

I read through reviews on Amazon, Kakaku.com, Rakuten, Yodobashi Camera, and others at random, looking for a product with no complaints about "water leakage." Finally, I found one iron from a certain domestic manufacturer.

However, the older model with many reviews was no longer being sold, and the only one I could purchase was the latest successor model.

I had a bad feeling about it, but I had no other choice. I ordered it from Yodobashi.com.

A few days later, the long-awaited iron arrived.

I opened the box with my heart full of anticipation. My husband and I immediately checked the tank.

"It's... cracked."

Not again!!!

There was a clear crack that even I could see.

No, wait.

Even if there is a crack visible, it might still be usable as long as it doesn't leak water.

Holding onto a faint hope, I filled the tank with water and moved the unit as if I were ironing.

Water droplets fell onto the desk.

...Maybe I just happened to get a bad unit. That must be it.

Thinking that, I contacted the Yodobashi exchange center and decided to have another unit sent to me.

Before long, the replacement arrived.

I opened the box and checked the tank.

"...It's cracked."

Again!!!

Just in case, I tried putting water in it, but it leaked just the same.

I must have done something truly terrible in a past life to incur the wrath of the god of irons or something. I've heard that in the Meiji era, before electricity, people used "charcoal irons" that you filled with red-hot coals. Perhaps in my past life, I went around playing nasty pranks like dousing those coals with water to put them out. I might be suffering from a cross-temporal water-torture revenge plot by the iron clan.

Feeling guilty toward Yodobashi, I requested a return this time. Both irons leaked, but Yodobashi's service was flawless, which was a relief.

And so, my home was left without an iron.

Even though I only use one occasionally, it's a problem not to have any tool at all to smooth out wrinkles in fabric. I need to find a replacement as soon as possible.

...Having been betrayed by steam irons repeatedly, I had a thought.

I don't need a steam function anymore.

The reason it leaks from everywhere is because it tries to force water to boil inside the iron to produce steam.

I should just use a dry iron and spray water on the fabric with a spray bottle only when necessary.

In the first place, the water droplets left in an emptied steam tank never dry out completely. Since there are times when I don't use the iron for weeks on end, I shudder to think what those remaining droplets turn into in there. Wouldn't a spray bottle be overwhelmingly more hygienic?

Thinking I should check the actual product this time, I headed to a Bic Camera store.

However, when I arrived at the iron section, I was stunned.

There wasn't a single dry iron.

The shelves were dominated by the steam faction, led by garment steamers. Are the hardcore dry irons that rely solely on heat and weight an endangered species?

I finally found a surviving dry iron online, but...

"The dial fell off"

There are reviews that say things like that.

I wondered about commercial-grade ones and looked them up, but the price is 50,000 to 60,000 yen. I can't bring myself to pay the price of a computer for a tool I only use very occasionally.

The iron I wanted didn't exist in the Reiwa market.

Just as I was feeling discouraged, a thought occurred to me.

What isn't in the Reiwa market might be in the Showa market.

I'm into antiques. I've been collecting tableware at antique shops and just recently started getting into antique wristwatches. I felt it wouldn't be a bad idea to try an antique home appliance as well.

That's how I found this "Cutie" on Mercari.

When I used it for the first time, I was skeptical about whether something like this could actually smooth out wrinkles. After all, the surface area of the part that gets hot is only about the size of a smartphone.

However, my expectations were pleasantly betrayed. The "Cutie" is currently doing a very good job.

First of all, it doesn't take up storage space. And because of its small size, it's easy to maneuver. With a standard-sized iron, you might accidentally create unexpected creases on the bottom layer of double-layered fabric and then say "oh no" when you flip it over, but with this size, you can iron while checking the details carefully. Chappy commented that it's "unsuitable for dress shirts," but this small size is actually perfect for ironing detailed areas like shoulders and cuffs.

Besides, there's the look of it. The pop coloring and the fact that the construction is solid and careful down to the smallest detail are apparent at a glance. Even if I leave it out on the edge of my desk while it's cooling down, I find myself grinning every time I see it.

Moreover, for some reason, its power consumption is incredibly low. It's only 80W. Since a modern dry iron from Company P is about 700W, it's about one-tenth of that. It's surprising that such an energy-saving appliance existed in the Showa era.

It's compact, has a lovable look, is eco-friendly, and actually removes wrinkles. This is exactly what I was looking for. I think it will remain at the top of my "best buys" list even 10 years from now.

When I asked my husband, he said that home appliances from this era have simple structures and can be easily repaired by his own hands. I hope that the three of us—my husband, me, and the iron—can live together happily for as long as possible.

By the way, I often think that companies today really have it tough. They are pushed to the limit for cost-cutting and efficiency, constantly required to come up with novelties, new features, and buzz, and are chased by short deadlines.

I understand that well. Because I used to live in that kind of world myself. And even now, I'm still in a corner of it.

They have to pursue productivity and profit, and with raw material prices and labor costs rising in a workplace suffering from labor shortages, low-unit-price home appliances might not be worth it for manufacturing companies. I think the fact that the tank adhesive becomes weak is proof that the production floor is screaming.

But, for someone like me,

"I want to love and use the things I like for a long time, so simple functions are fine."

There are quite a few consumers who feel this way.

While gazing at the yellow iron, which is about the size of a smartphone, I just relax and wait for it to gradually heat up. Just having this lovable "Showa-era iron" by my side makes me feel like the occasional chore of ironing might become a little more enjoyable.