Winged Messengers
On October 27, 2016 by Speranza
The last few days I have been noticing that I have a few tiny, tiny holes all in a row on some of my clothes; the pure cotton ones that I really like.
This has not pleased me.
At first, I thought the material might just have caught on a zipper or torn without me realizing, (yes, this is the kind of ridiculous self-talk that can happen when one really, really wants to keep watching The Durrells in Corfu snuggled up with The General, rather than skivvying out a clearly infested closet;) but finally, yesterday when, alas, I noticed that my prized Ann Taylor white shirt had been damaged, (rather like a tiny skater had been in winter training) I knew that I had to do the google search to see which particular plague was now upon me.
Sadly, I have since learned that this is most likely the handiwork of the common clothes-moth (not to be confused with his much uglier, foodie counterpart with whom I am very familiar with (I’m looking at you, bulk-store walnuts!) nor the dreaded carpet beetle fellows (who masquerade as fat grains of rice till the gig is up) that I did battle with a few years ago, after losing several corners of my pure wool area rugs to their gluttony. These tiny villains were eating carpet rows like corn on the cob, the wee bastards, and I had to freeze the rugs outside over the winter to get rid of them …
And, afore ye judge, let it be known that I am a devotee to the Dyson vacuum, and vacuum regularly so all this seems most unfair, puzzling and not a little unsettling.
Anyway.
I unpacked all the closets, sluiced the walls down with vinegar (and then another dose of primary-coloured Mr.Clean just for good measure), before vacuuming all the edges and corners meticulously, and purchasing ludicrously expensive cedar pucks to place inside. I also repaired and then laundered a super-heavy vintage bedspread that I use as a throw, just in case anyone was hiding amongst the brocade. (I’m picturing moths in tiny pith helmets here, shouting: “Ai! Ai! Ai!” …)
I may come over all Mennonite on the weekend and weave some dried lavender in there as well. I also purchased a moth-pheromone kit to lure any stowaways to their doom (hilariously, it looks like a small carnival tent!) and set that up as well. Can I tell you that all this takes a very, very long time (and is exceptionally unrewarding) so I sincerely hope that it works.
I also read (somewhat horrifyingly) that when our parents/grandparents were frisking their winter coats (or felt hats) energetically with those wickedly stiff wire-brushes they were actually ensuring that any moth eggs that might have been deposited over the previous season were being firmly dislodged!
I had no idea, and innocently thought it was all about freshening or smoothing the nap or something. But double eeeeuw here and I almost wish that I did not know this.
I do know that I will never be using moth balls.
It’s just not worth the toxicity or smell of death.
How strange it is though, that this knowledge now has to be googled when our parents/grandparents knew all along what to do each spring with those felt trilbys …
Aaah. Bring back the trilby.
Good luck with your war on moths. I remember as a child having an elderly aunt who always smelled of moth balls; not her house, just her. I believe she may have consumed them and this is what kept her alive for so long.