Doing your laundry isn’t a sexy activity (hmmm...), but there’s something about laundromats that feels inexplicably captivating.

A shift in general living circumstances, coupled with incessant wet weather, has gotten them and I reacquainted over the last couple of months. The last I had really frequented them was during my uni years. But even my memory of those times spent tapping my Barclays/N26 debit cards to activate the washing and drying cycles is quite different: Just taking a short stroll over to the machines, dumping everything in and setting a timer, heading back to the room for a short nap, then returning to settle what was necessary thereafter.

That proximity has not been afforded to me where I stay now. Instead, heading out to the laundromat is an (admittedly comfortable) 8-10 minute drive. In such a situation, you’re effectively just stuck there.

It must be the sweet lens of nostalgia over my uni days (when I felt less jaded; like there was more of me that could be moved and broken). Mixed with mainstream romanticisation of laundromats. Mixed with flashes of one of my favourite films. But I’ve quite enjoyed these visits I’ve had to make. 

The first one, with my mum tagging along, was already a pleasant experience. Then, I suggested that we both put our phones away and each take some time to open a book/magazine and learn to be bored. She was up for the challenge. It was difficult at first, then it was relaxing and soothing. We both climbed back into the car feeling more energised than when we had arrived.

The most recent visit was a solo trip.

It was nearly 11:30pm, having just returned home from a long day of activities, when I realised that I had to head out. The frustration quickly eased. In the stillness of that wet Sunday night, armed with my iPad (and a couple of videos and articles I had been interested in catching up on), I finally found peace for the week - in the low whir of the washing machine drum spinning, the hum of the orbital fan oscillating above, and in the smell of detergent powder and warm, freshly-dried clothing. 

Interestingly, laundromats appear to have settled into a steady-state presence in Singapore. This CNA article goes into how some brilliant minds amongst us have thought about reworking the conventional model of the laundromat to draw crowds in. I’m thinking of heading to one of them soon. It will be a solo outing for sure - an afternoon protected fiercely, reserved selfishly, for myself alone.

I know a lot of this is, as mentioned above, is romanticisation. I can imagine that hauling bags of laundry out of the house on the regular could be extremely tiresome for some households. Especially if - unlike me - they don’t have a car at home to tap on. Laundromats are not dirt-cheap either - the most basic wash option for a full 14kg load is $7-8, following which you’ll have to pay another $6-7 for the dryer (depending on how kiasu you are about your Uniqlo tees being dry).

But I guess different spaces have always held different meanings for different people. I hope it's okay that I'm ascribing this sort of value to this one. So much of life recently has passed by so quickly; been exasperating to parse. In my perpetual state of frenzy lately, this image of a laundromat has slowly become a compassionate invitation to exhale and to find pause. 

- Matt