Former Director of the Govett-Brewster Art Gallery, New Plymouth, New Zealand.

I am attaching a towel that has served me well. I have used it for possibly 50 years, but it has been for one purpose only. Every time I bake white bread, rye bread, or Swedish coffee bread this towel is the only one I use to cover the dough while it rises. It just seemed to be the perfect size, the perfect weight and color. I don’t remember where or when I received it, but it could possibly have been from my mother as she was the one who taught me to bake the coffee bread. She could have given me the towel during my lesson.

As you can see, it is in pretty good condition after all these years since it was only used for this one purpose. I’m not sure it has been washed too frequently as it never got soiled. Baking bread for my family brings back many wonderful memories of my children returning from school to a home that smelled so good. They knew the minute they walked in the door that I had baked bread and my son could have eaten the entire loaf if I had let him. The loaves of bread usually came out of the oven about the same time they walked in the door. Butter melted as they spread it on their slice. Needless to say, by the time supper was over the entire batch of bread was gone. I’m sure after all these years I will be able to find another towel to cover the bread as it rises, however, if you have no need for this one you may return it.

Wayland, MA

Here’s my contribution to your project. I am interested in the results. This cloth belonged to my Nana (my maternal grandmother). I will follow up with a little note about it…

Concord, MA

This dishtowel is a reminder of a business trip I had taken to attend a conference in New Zealand. This is the fourth such cloth I’ve purchased since beginning the collection.

This is my friend and ex-roommate's towel. Her name is Mary Jane W. and she wanted me to write this story. It doesn’t necessarily concern towels, it concerns maps. MJ and I have been friends since 1981, when we moved into an apartment on the third floor of a house. We had not yet lived there three months, when two days before Christmas, a four alarm fire had consumed the home, and all of our belongings. We were both summoned from our jobs— MJ at WGBH and I from Digital to the location to watch the brave firefighters douse the flames. What followed was a moving and generous outpouring from each of our workplace communities: people we knew, and also those we had never met, donated their belongings to help us get a new start. 

The event both tore our friendship apart and pulled us closer together. The loss has taken a long time to heal, which leads me back to maps. We have come to realize monetary loss as temporary. Few “things” grab our interests, except these two. I, with my map chain project (I weave pieces of maps into a linear form— similar to the gum chains I used to make as a young girl), and this dishtowel project, and MJ with her expanding map dishtowel collection. I shared the dishtowel project with her last year, when she surprised me with these two cloths. One from a trip to Ireland and the other from a conference in Iceland. I’m glad we’ve remained friends all these years.

Former Director of the Govett-Brewster Art Gallery, New Plymouth, New Zealand

Going on a field trip from college to Chicago was very exciting, because it was an actual city—unlike Detroit. I went to Crate and Barrel for the first time and developed an interest in kitchen accessories, even though I lived in the dorm. I bought green and white striped dishtowels, which I kept stored away, waiting for the day I would live alone, not with a slobby roommate.

The towels had much use as I lived in Baltimore, Washington D.C., and Philadelphia. When I got Syd, the baby cockatiel, the towels had their second life—something to wrap Syd in while I trimmed his wings and nails (or to stop the blood gushing out a broken new feather) while I doused Syd with cornstarch to his dismay. In the end, Syd decided that the towel, folded up in a triangle shape was incredibly beautiful and something to flirt with outrageously; while using the construction worker’s vocabulary of cat calls. That’s where the story ends…

This towel used to be a calendar towel. I’ve used it and washed it so many times you can’t tell what was once printed on it.

Westwood, MA

This towel was given to me as a wedding shower gift. It always seemed unique to me—the images of the many herbs printed on the surface. I’d like to have this returned as it was a gift.

Boston, MA

This is for Gunta’s towel project.

Detroit, MI

The first use for this cloth was to cover fresh bread that I had baked. When I was moving to Cambridge, Massachusetts I had packed away many of my things, but needed a cloth. I ended up using this towel to clean up the apartment I was leaving in Providence.

Here are my contributions to your dishtowel project. I have at least two dozen, so please keep these. The ragged towel I just can’t throw away and my daughter Julie is horrified when she reaches in the drawer for something to dry dishes. The other dishtowel reminds me of all the wonderful trips to San Fransisco, Tahoe and Yosemite that my husband Ray and I have taken with my sister. Hope this is helpful.

Better late than never. No special stories associated with this dish towel. I remember receiving it as a gift at a shower. Since then, I’ve used it and used it. I liked it better than the terry cloth ones. Initially, it was a dish towel. After a while, it became a rag. It certainly got its use.

Detroit, MI

(This is my mother’s dishcloth.)

I’ve had this since 1962–to bring in a little sunshine.

My parents and I traveled to Tibet in April 2025. This towel was purchased at a small shop across from the Potala Palace. After touring the Palace, we wandered through the souvenir shops nearby. The pattern on this runner immediately caught my eye. When I asked the shop owner about the meaning of the symbols, he wasn’t able to provide a clear explanation. There were no tags attached to the cloth either, therefore, I’m unsure of the material.

Tibet is known for its rich and mysterious culture, as well as its extreme high altitude. Many visitors experience altitude sickness, but if you can endure it, the journey is truly once in a lifetime.

As my parents grow older, I know that this might be one of our last chances to visit such a unique place together. I'm deeply grateful we made this trip, and this table runner is a reminder of that special time, a memory I’ll always cherish.

Weymouth, MA

I am sorry it took so long for me to deliver this. I hope you can still use it. This dishtowel was given to me by my mother. When I was a child (10–13 years old). We lived outside of Edinburgh, Scotland. (my mother is of partly Scottish ancestry.)

Years later my parents visited Scotland again and my mother bought us each a towel. I can’t remember exactly when, but I think this was shortly after we were married in 1979.

I have saved the towel and treasure it as a reminder of our years there. I have occasionally used it when you asked us for a dishtowel that has followed us everywhere. Good luck on your project. 

I would like to have this back when you are finished. Thanks.

Wayland, MA

From Grand Rapids, Michigan

This cloth was discovered in storage. My mother had saved it since I was born. She is now in an assisted living facility.

Evanston, IL

This dishtowel is the oldest of all my dishtowels. Many have been worn out and thrown away, but this one seems to linger and never quite makes it to the trash. It is approximately 20 years old. I don’t really remember how I acquired it, but its main purpose, when it was new, was to be used for camping.

It lived many of its years in our camping box and traveled all over New England to different campgrounds. It even made it to Lake George, New York. It survived many years of use hanging next to smokey campfires. 

There are many fond memories tied to this towel. I guess its one of those nostalgic things that bring me back to my youthful days when life was carefree and the biggest thing I had to worry about was what we were doing for the weekend. 

It doesn’t get much use now. I found it behind all the newer towels and when I brought it out and asked my husband what it reminded him of, he said without hesitation, “camping”.

This is a new tea towel from my hometown, Canton, China, which I visited in March 2025. It was my first time back in six years. The towel is made from a cotton-linen blend, within the yellow circle, there’s a red embroidered Chinese knot, an emblem of good luck, prosperity and unity. 

I felt a sense of displacement while I was there, having lived abroad for almost two decades. I saw an art exhibition titled “A New World I Cannot Fit Into, and a Hometown I Can No Longer Return To,” which deeply resonated with me.

Weymouth, MA

This towel used to belong to a friend of mine who moved and left some things behind. She said I could rummage through everything and keep whatever I found. I kept this towel and some other things.

This dishcloth belonged to Tom’s mother. She had it with her in Berea, Ohio, when she first immigrated to this country in 1957. (I don’t know if she brought it with her.) She came with her two youngest—Tom and Gerrit. I met Tom in 1957 a few months later. This towel traveled with her to California, Indiana, Illinois and finally, to Michigan for five years. After she died, I used it for at least twenty years. Enjoy.

I’ve always loved this towel. The children’s drawings on it fascinate me. I would like to have this returned. 

Providence, RI

I found this one in the bindery at RISD. After several semesters, when no one claimed ownership I added it to the collection.

I inherited this towel from my paternal grandmother. She used it for many years, but we’ve since used it to wipe up paint splatters.

Wayland, MA

This towel is originally an unused cloth diaper from 1957. It was given to me by my mother when I was expecting my first child. Then it was used as a face cloth for cleaning cute little faces. As the children grew the towel followed into the car and eventually was used to clean the windows full of little fingerprints.

Norfolk, MA

My paternal grandmother would crochet these cotton dollies that would “pick up” anything that has spilled in the kitchen. My husband Don testifies to their absorbency! He is the primary chef in our home. The dishtowel is about ten years old and has been used a lot.

This towel, though it appears almost new, is about 48 years old. It was in my mother’s “hope chest” since 1953 and was never used until she gave it to me a couple of years ago. Well, it’s being used now and I love it! Do they make them like this anymore? To me it is a family treasure.

Since I’m newly married, I do not have any nice, used cloths to add to your collection. Instead I will give you this dish towel and matching pot holder and oven mitt. The story behind the dishtowel is that I wanted a dark color because it will hide any stains and always look presentable.

Boston, MA

This towel reminds me of my only daughter Maria. It has a kind of a bitter history. A woman was taking care of my father’s aunt, a housekeeper. She was a person who enjoyed control and seemed envious of my independence. She would burn my silk blouse while ironing. One day as she was ironing the dishtowel she burned it and left a mark. It seemed as if she did this on purpose.

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Donation from South America.

While I was in Mexico City, attending a conference, a woman approached me in the street and offered to sell me these “handmade” dish towels. I thought of you and your project. I bought one and she insisted that I buy another—for a friend.

This towel has traveled with me since I was a refugee in Germany during War I War II. It is the oldest cloth I have. It began as the diaper, of my oldest son who was then a baby. Since then it has been used to wash walls, floors. Essentially a rag. In Latvian we would say “lupata”.

This towel has dutifully served our household for almost 40 years. In the beginning it was the honored guest bath towel. Then it moved into our children’s bath arena and upon one occasion it even served to clean up a stray cat from its outdoor wanderings. After a few years of rest, this towel was resurrected in use and moved to the kitchen. 

Many years before, when we first immigrated to America, my mother had learned to can food from a kind farmer’s wife. I was just a little girl. As a young adult my mother in turn taught me these skills. It was at this time that I began using this towel while placing the hot jars for cooling on the kitchen counter. Countless jars of jams, juices, fruits in syrup, applesauce, cranberry sauce, apple butter and tomatoes all have over the years made their first hot, steamy appearance upon the towel draped countertop. Many a spoon has dipped into these jars for enjoyment by family, friends and neighbors. This well worn towel incorporates a lifetime of family history, traditions, love, working together and joyful memories of our cupboards being filled with the bounty of harvest to be shared with others. And just as my children, when they were little, enjoyed their grandmother’s goodies, so too, it is now time for me to pass on the same tasty treats to my own grandchildren. Maybe their moms will one day own a similar towel.

Could you please return this to me? It has great sentimental value… This “blueberry towel” has spanned three generations. When I was nine months old, my family drove to Barley Island, Maine every summer where my father worked as a psychiatrist. We picked blueberries in the front yard of our cottage and ate them daily in all forms; by themselves, muffins, cake, pancake, ice cream. This towel was bought on Barley Island by my mother, Betty Baker, who then passed it on to me five years ago, about the time that my children’s father left home. It has been a source of security and has brought back many wonderful childhood memories! Now it sits in our kitchen drawer most of the time. (because I don’t want it to wear out!) but my children and I do use it occasionally, just to have a bit of Maine and some good memories close by!

There is no special story associated with this towel. We use it for family barbecues.

This cloth belonged to our French neighbors—a fine, distinguished couple. Albert taught in the French department at Brown for over fifty years. They enjoyed fine things and we became very close. They were surrogate grandparents—we celebrated together all holidays—we had champagne in the yard on Easter while the girls hunted for eggs. We had tea several times a week and sherry and nuts. When Evelijin died Albert still had tea with us. Finally, he had to go into a nursing home. We inherited much of their things. I used this towel for five or more years thinking of our wonderful 25 years all together. Enjoy.

I’ve had this towel for 30 years, when Dick and I first married.