Let’s get something straight here: I don’t own an iron. I never have and probably never will.
It’s just a matter of principle.
But this story is about more than just clothes. It’s about more than an iron. It’s about a sport that will straighten your hair and your pants at the same time.
Extreme ironing. That’s right, I said it: extreme ironing.
You know, the bored-out-of-your-skull chore of having to crease your pants or straighten the wrinkles out of your shirt ““ taken to a whole new level.
Basically, you’ve got to see it to believe it. So to attempt to summarize what this burgeoning sport is all about, let me paint you some pictures.
There’s a frozen lake covered in ice and snow. A man is standing waist-deep. He’s ironing a polo.
There’s a mountain range that spikes thousands of feet into the air. A climber is suspended between two cliffs, held up only by ropes, as he irons a pair of slacks.
There’s a man jumping out of a plane. He’s upside down and wearing a snowboard. Another man jumps out of the plane behind him. He pulls out some laundry and an iron and proceeds to press his clothes on the bottom of the first guy’s board.
It’s happened. I’ve seen it on YouTube.
You see, there are no rules for extreme ironing. There’s no real teams or leagues or salary caps. I’m pretty sure nobody has ever made a dollar off this sport. And that’s what makes it great.
It just doesn’t make any sense.
It consists of one thing and one thing only: Take your laundry someplace extreme ““ 30,000 feet, deep sea, downtown L.A. ““ and make some pleats.
Extreme ironing is basically combining any risky activity such as skydiving, kayaking or standing in the middle of a busy street “with the satisfaction of a well-pressed shirt,” according to the Extreme Ironing Bureau’s official Web site. (And yes, there is an Extreme Ironing Bureau.)
Personally, I’d rather just wear some wrinkles than have to climb Kilimanjaro. But, hey, that’s just me.
Apparently this extreme sport, which claims over 1,500 participants worldwide, was started way back in the summer of 1997. Some British bloke named Phil Shaw, known in the extreme ironing community as “Steam,” came home from work to a pile of clothes needing to be ironed. He didn’t feel like doing it in the confines of his home, so he took his ironing board, grabbed his iron and went rock climbing.
And extreme ironing was born.
Since that fateful night, extreme ironing has gone international faster than UPS. Thirteen countries competed in the 2002 World Championships in Munich ““ the English team held off Germany to claim the title ““ with another championship possibly later this year.
“Ironists,” as they call themselves, have been trying to out-pleat each other for over a decade now: flattening shirts in the center of the Arctic Circle, hundreds of feet underwater off the coast of Egypt, even suspended from a crane in a transparent box.
The thing is, there’s still a bit of a stigma attached to these extreme ironers.
That’s why they go by names like “Steam,” “Fe,” “Iron Lung” and “Hot Pants” ““ it’s just not cool to press.
That’s understandable, but it’s about to change.
So keep an eye out. Extreme ironing is about to hit Westwood.
I’ll be the one rappeling off of Royce Hall, upside down and ironing my pants.
If you think Extreme Sleeping is a better idea, e-mail Feder at jfeder@media.ucla.edu.