I'm eighteen years behind in my ironing. There's no use doing it now, it doesn't fit anybody I know.
I find vacuuming very therapeutic, but I hate ironing. I usually have no shirt on while ironing, because I'm ironing it, and I end up burning my chest.
I like to wear things that don't need ironing. It seems a fundamental design flaw when clothing needs ironing. There are loads of fabrics these days that don't need ironing, so I stick to those.
Eighteen years doing this, my friend. Eighteen years - combat sport. I think you will not find this in history, I believe.
I do ironing not only for myself but for everyone at home, everyone in the studio if they want it, and if I run out of ironing to do, I put everything back in the washing machine and get it out again clean so I have some ironing to do.
Ironing boards are a classic example of something I find horrible about modern society: the excitementation, for want of a better word, of mundane things. Funny ironing board covers - I hate them.
I mean, Eighteen years old is the age of consent in Europe and you can go anywhere and do anything you like. In America, it is dumb. At eighteen you should be able to do anything that you like, except get married.
One Direction have to do their own ironing you don't see Take That doing their own ironing!
When something needs to be ironed I put it in the ironing basket. If a year goes by and the item is still in the basket I throw the item away. This is a good system since eventually I end up only with clothes that don’t need ironing.
In Sardinia one summer my best friend Marisa Berenson and I ironed each other's hair. We used a hot laundry iron and took turns putting our hair on the ironing board, literally ironing it. That's a recipe for straightening that may be highly successful, but is definitely not recommended.
Actually I was born in 1940 in Blackpool because my family lived in Manchester but Manchester was being bombed. So my mother was sent away to Blackpool to have me and then went back; so I lived my first eighteen years in Manchester and then emigrated to the States when I was eighteen.
I was ironing my own clothes when I was 11 years old. My mental strength goes back to those days.
Behind my carefully buttoned collar is my nakedness, the struggle to find clean clothes, food, meaning, and money. Behind sex is rage, behind anger is love, behind this moment is silence, years of silence.
It is astonishing to realise that the human species survived hundreds of thousands of years, more than 99 percent of its time on this planet, with a life expectancy of only eighteen years.
I learned in the Marines to leave no one behind, but after 34 years in Washington, Mitch McConnell left our coal miners behind years ago.
... I think it is fair to say that all war photographers hide behind their cameras. I hid behind mine for years and years and years. It was a shield... I think that the photographer in combat has a greater protection than the soldier who has a rifle in his hand. That camera has unbelievable protective power.