Tied together with apron strings
How aprons hold hearts and stories
Release Date: May 20, 2025
An apron for every occasion
Some women have a dress for every occasion, or maybe a hat. Not my grandma. Grandma had an apron for every occasion.
Holiday aprons with felt holly leaves and red berries decorated with beads and sequins invisibly stitched onto wispy tule netting.
Entertaining aprons, including red checked ones with appliquéd faces and helpful pockets, and ones made to match whichever polyester dress Grandma had made special for the occasion.
Whimsical aprons covered with wildflowers, cooking puppies and inspirational phrases she’d embroider on herself, the red lines from transfer patterns still visible in the background like ghosts.
Every day aprons made of leftovers from Grandma’s many sewing projects, some crafted into patchwork quilts, others optical illusions, still others plain as day until you looked a bit closer and the details gained focus — a monogram, a tiny cross-stitched orchid peeking out of the pocket, yellow ric rac at the hem.
Like her clothes, Grandma made nearly all her own aprons, though some, I know, she’d received as gifts — hand made by her friends. She kept them all, freshly ironed and often starched, folded in a special drawer at the bottom of the burled oak china cabin she’d inherited from her mom. As a little girl, I remember tugging open that drawer and peering inside on the rare occasions Grandma let me wear one of her aprons, instead of the pint-sized ones she’d made and set aside for me.
And, when she slipped one of those beautiful aprons over my head, I remember feeling like a queen.
Just like Grandma.
When Grandma passed away in 1996, I kept a few of her aprons, thinking someday I’d get them famed and maybe hang them in my kitchen. Nearly thirty years later, they’re still where I left them — wrapped in acid-free tissue paper and stored in archival boxes.
Except for one.
Grandma’s favorite holiday apron, the one she wore to set the table for our Christmas Eve buffet but never cooked or baked in, gets taken out and displayed in a place of honor each Christmas when I’m home.
The emerald tule is stiff and scratchy now, and turned up on one side. The velvet edging worn and dusty, and some of the sequin stars dangle precariously. But the appliquéd crown on the front is just as I remember it — threads of golden brilliance cradling sparkling rhinestones that dance with the light — and fit for a queen.
The perfect apron for the occasion.
That time Santa covered for me
There’s a fairly famous story I tell on myself that always gets a lot of laughs, but mostly from folks who know me and my Apron Rule:
If you don’t have an apron on, you don’t belong in my kitchen.
It’s a rule I learned from Grandma and one that definitely took root. Whether I’m making myself a quick iced latte, preparing my signature 24-hour braised beef short ribs or washing glassware after a dinner party, if I am in the kitchen, I am wearing an apron.
Anyway, back to that story.
It’s Christmas week 2006, and my husband and I are living in a company compound in Saudi Arabia. This was well before MBS came to power, and back when things in the Kingdom were a little less friendly, especially when it came to Christmas.
We’d finally gotten a Christmas tree in through customs — a process which had taken two years and cost us too many confiscated artificial trees to count. And I was ready to go hog wild for the holidays!
My husband left for work, and, still in my shortie pajamas, I slipped on my favorite Santa Claus apron, turned up the Christmas carols, and got to work making cookies.
At some later point — an hour? three? — the doorbell rang.
What happened next is kind of a blur, but the end result was that I found myself on my front step wearing nothing more than shortie pajamas and a jolly Santa apron, and on the wrong side of a locked door.
Which, of course, wouldn’t have been a big deal…
if I’d grabbed the key on my way out
if I’d been wearing more clothes
if my apron hadn’t been a giant advertisement for a decidedly unwelcome holiday visitor
if I were living anywhere else, say a place where the female form wasn’t routinely hidden beneath a black floor-to-ceiling abaya.
What’s a girl to do?
Then I felt it, a weight in the pocket of my apron — my phone!
As quickly as I could, I called my husband’s office. He was in a meeting and unavailable. I left a semi-frantic message, skipping all the details other than the locked door.
I phoned a friend. A lot of friends. No answers. I left more messages.
I knocked on neighboring doors. Nothing.
Hesitantly, I dialed the lock-out number. The only-in-an- emergency number that connected me to a special vault in the security department where keys to every single house were kept.
As delicately as possible, I explained my predicament, and the local security manager on the other end promised he’d be right over with the spare key.
And was he!
I’ve never seen so many grown men get out of one vehicle unless it was under a Big Top!
I need to add here, they were gracious and respectful, and unlocked my door as quickly as was humanly possible.
One even wished me a happy Christmas!
As I shut the door and turned around, my phone rang.
It was my husband.
“I hear you got locked out of the house,” he said with a chuckle. “Were you at least wearing an apron?”
A collection of aprons made with love
Before my first grandchild was born 12 years ago, my wonderful friends threw me a Grandma Shower. In addition to welcoming me into this incredible season of life with thoughtful advice, funny stories and so much love and support, these sweet ladies gave me a collection of homemade and handmade aprons.
Bold aprons, fancy aprons, practical aprons, hostess aprons.
Aprons for holidays, special events and every day, and aprons for decorating cookies with my grandkids.
Half aprons, back-tying aprons, ruffled aprons and ones so beautiful they will never be used.
They knew me, right?
But the one apron I treasure more than all the others is one I call my Grandma Apron.
It’s simple canvas. A traditional pattern. An apron made for the ages.
And written in permanent marker across nearly every inch of it, are the signatures of the women I love. Friends who have lifted me up and loved on me, who’ve had the hard talks when need, and remained quiet when that was needed instead. Strong, intelligent, creative and generous women with whom I share a unique history, and more stories than there is time to tell.
Two years after my Grandma Shower, we left that community and the incredible support system which had always been there for us. As we were packing up our life, my Grandma Apron went in my carryon.
That was more than a decade ago.
When I look at my Grandma Apron now — and I look at it more often than you might guess — I get a little homesick, a little nostalgic. A little weepy.
Some of the women who signed that apron are still my closest friends in the world. Others have drifted away. Several have died.
But on my Grandma Apron, we’re all still there, sitting on the back patio laughing and sharing grandma stories. We’re celebrating a new life and planning new memories — some with family, but also with each other and the world. And I am surrounded by the kind of love and wisdom, generosity and faith that most people will never be lucky enough to experience.
But I did.
On those rare days when I need a reminder, I take my Grandma Apron off its special hook in the pantry, slowly bring the strings around my neck, around my middle, and tie them in simple bows.
And, just like that, I am wrapped in the love of those friendships and those ladies again. It is a warm hug, a tender pat on the back. A whispered prayer.
The strong, calloused hands of Aaron and Hur as they hold up the weary arms of Moses.
And, just like that, all is well.
Copyright 2025 Lori Olson White
An apron for every one
If you’re feeling both inspired and creative, I’ve found a few free apron patterns to get your apron collection started!
Modern Patchwork Apron Pattern from Suzy Quilts
Farmhouse Linen Pinafore Apron Pattern from Sisters, What!
Allspice Apron Pattern from Hey June Handmade
Victorian/Edwardian Kitchen Apron Pattern from Pour La Victoire
1 Yard Magic Apron Pattern from Sew Can She
Japanese Apron Pattern from Farmhouse on Boone (note: the pattern is in a text link NOT an ad)
Half Apron Pattern from A Beautiful Mess
Simple Gathered Half Apron Pattern from Delia Creates
Your turn and your culinary traditions
Describe the oldest apron you remember seeing in your family. Who wore it? What color or pattern did it have? What kind of work was done while wearing it?
Think of someone in your family who always wore an apron. What did that apron come to symbolize in your mind?
Did any aprons in your family have special pockets, stains, or patches? What stories do those features tell?
Was there a “Sunday apron” and an “everyday apron” in your family? What was the difference between them, and when were they worn?
Did any aprons get passed down, saved in a drawer, or tucked into a hope chest? What do you know about its journey?
What kinds of food or family rituals are forever linked in your memory to someone wearing an apron?
Was there an apron that made an appearance at holidays, family reunions, or special events? Describe how it fit into the celebration.
Do you remember someone making an apron by hand — sewing, embroidering, or mending one? What was the occasion, and who was it for?
If you could ask a long-gone ancestor about their apron, what would you want to know? What secrets, recipes, or routines might it hold?
Have you ever put on an apron and suddenly felt connected to someone from your past? Describe the moment and the feelings it brought up.
In case you missed it
If stories at the intersection of food and family history are what you’re looking for, look no further than our archives! Here are a few of our favorites.
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Aprons! Best wardrobe invention ever. GREAT post!
I giggle-snorted when I read about locking yourself out of your house in Saudi. My parents lived in Yanbu on the Red Sea there in the early 80s and I spent summers there working as a life guard at the pool at the Women's Center. The pool had twelve-foot privacy fence around it. I can fully appreciate your predicament!
A grandma apron is such a precious idea! I wear an apron just about every time I cook but my mom never did. Thanks Lori for a lovely read!