The Wooden Clothespin: Hung Out to Dry, for Now

In my first week of college, a drawing professor asked the class to sketch a clothespin, leaving students skeptical of his methods. Isn’t the clothespin just two identical pieces of wood and a metal spring? Looking closer, the sophistication of its design – and the exercise – became apparent. First, the posterior side of each of the wooden pieces in the clothespin is angled from the tip to almost halfway through, so the object can act as a clamp: the back legs come together and the front ones are set apart. Then there is an indent that accommodates the spring, which embraces the clothespin on its outer sides. After the spring, the inner part of each wooden piece has two recesses in half-circles that accommodate the clothesline with or without clothes. At the opposite end of the pieces, another angulation enlarges the opening of the clothespin, so it can better grip when pinched. It embodies the axiom that form following function, even if it was not exactly what Louis Sullivan (who first stated the concept in 1896) or later modernists were thinking of.

The clothespin seems to represent the type of simple domestic object that at once flies under the radar of history and at the same time surpasses the passage of time, but it is actually a nineteenth-century invention and an important artifact of early American industrial history. Before that, washed clothes were hung on bushes, laid on the grass, or put on lines, commonly without fasteners. It was only in 1853 that David M. Smith of Springfield, Vermont, patented the first design for a clothespin that resembles the contemporary model, which he explained would not strain or damage fabric because of its pinching mechanism, and would not detach from clothes by the action of the wind.[1] In the following 35 years, 146 clothespin patents were issued in the United States, aimed at improving the object’s performance and simplifying its manufacture.[2] The most significant of these was done by Solon E. Moore from Swanton and his “coiled fulcrum” single wire spring, patented in 1887.[3] Alongside its inventors, it was predominantly Vermonters who established most clothespin manufactories during the second half of the nineteenth century, as small family-run businesses utilizing waste from sawmills.

After World War I, Sweden began exporting cheaper clothespins, and thus began the decline of the American clothespin industry.[4] The situation worsened after World War II with the introduction and popularization of electric clothes dryers, allied to the idea of new appliances as a means to liberate housewives from domestic chores and boost other industries. According to the U.S. Census, by 1992, 78% of the population had a clothes dryer, increasing to 83% in 2011.[5] The introduction of the plastic clothespin and the invasion of Chinese imports in American markets at the turn of the century were the breaking points that led the wooden clothespin industry into irreversible crisis.[6] The United States Clothespin Company, which had opened its doors in 1887, had already closed in the 1940s. The National Clothespin Company, founded in 1909, lasted until 2002.[7]

Despite having lost ground in laundries, the clothespin proved apt to various other uses such as closing bags, squeezing toothpaste tubes, keeping tablecloths flat, correcting the hang of curtains, and lighting matches more safely. It also became popular in a rather curious setting: the film industry. Known in the business as C-47s, clothespins are the preferred tool to attach light gels to the hot metal slats of production lights. Because they are wooden, clothespins do not melt or transmit heat, and are safe to touch. They also function as handles and grip scripts, straws, and cables.[8]

With environmental concerns currently on the rise, clothespins may be en route to renewed recognition for their classic use. Leading the crusade towards that goal is Project Laundry List, a movement founded in New Hampshire in 1995 to promote air-drying and cold-water laundry washing as a means to save energy, money, and protect the environment.[9] Even though the organization is not currently active, it was an important voice in the “right to dry” movement, which aims to change restrictions imposed by many homeowners' associations and other communities regarding the use of clotheslines outdoors,[10] as they are often considered an eyesore capable of devaluing property.[11] The use of indoor lines and racks could overpass that, however, and be suitable in highly urbanized settings, granted there is political energy devoted to diminishing carbon footprints embracing this stance.

For now, clothespins’ legacy in America seems to have been relegated to retrospection. The National Museum of American History[12] and the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum[13] both had exhibitions featuring historic clothespins over the past two decades. Claes Oldenburg’s 45-foot-high sculpture Clothespin in Philadelphia reminds passerby of its shape. Having maintained the same design for over 150 years, if its function becomes does come back in fashion, its form will be suiting.

[1] David M. Smith, Spring-Clamp for Clotheslines, US Patent 10,163, filed February 7, 1852, and issued October 25, 1853.

[2] Hillary Greenbaum and Charles Wilson, “Who Made that Clothespin?” The New York Times Magazine, May 11, 2012, https://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/13/magazine/who-made-that-clothespin.html.

[3] Solon E. Moore, Clothespin, US Patent 365,755, filed March 22, 1887, and issued June 28, 1887.

[4] “Businesses put pinch on each other,” Time Argus (Barre, VT), July 20, 2015, https://www.timesargus.com/articles/businesses-put-pinch-on-each-other/.

[5] Julie Sebens, Extended Measures of Well-Being: Living Conditions in the United States: 2011 (Washington DC: United States Census Bureau, 2013), 10.

[6] “The curious history of the clothespeg,” The Economist, December 22, 2016, https://medium.economist.com/the-curious-history-of-the-clothespeg-3f8615519c61.

[7] Anita Haley, “The Better Clothespin,” Invention & Technology 22, issue 2 (Fall 2006). http://www.inventionandtech.com/content/better-clothespin-0.

[8] Daniela Bowker, “Pass me a C-47 - or how a clothes peg got its film-set name,” Photocritic (blog), July 18, 2014, http://www.photocritic.org/articles/pass-me-a-c-47-or-how-a-clothes-peg-got-its-film-set-name.

[9] “About,” Project Laundry List, accessed September 21, 2018, http://laundrylist.org/about.html.

[10] Meghan Daum, “Right-to-dry movement gets its day in the sun in California,” Los Angeles Times, October 15, 2015, http://www.latimes.com/opinion/op-ed/la-oe-daum-right-to-dry-20151015-column.html#.

[11] Christine Woodside, “Drawing a Line on Outdoor Clothes Drying,” The New York Times, December 2, 2007, https://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/02/nyregion/nyregionspecial2/02clotheslinect.html?ref= nyregionspecial2.

[12] “America’s Clothespins,” National Museum of American History, accessed September 21, 2018, https://www.si.edu/Exhibitions/America%27s-Clothespins-4190.

[13] “Tools, Extending our Reach,” Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, accessed September 21, 2018, https://collection.cooperhewitt.org/exhibitions/51668987/.