Through the closet door—and a layer of winter coats—I’ve managed to overhear that the 2025 Emmys are on Sunday. And while nobody is more excited about it than me (I loved The White Lotus!), I beg you to hear my plea: Don’t forget about me, your humble steamer.
Usually, I’m reserved for making poplin button-downs look crisp and rumpled silks smooth again, but it seems like everyone forgets about me come awards season! But I promise, I’m an essential member of the team. I get it. I’m bulky. I might seem like more trouble than I’m worth. But let me remind you: all of that hard work—from the designer to the seamstresses—will be eclipsed if you walk down the red carpet looking like you just pulled your clothes out of the hamper. I can help!
You think I don’t want to help you get ready in your suite at the Ritz-Carlton? I don’t even want the fancy champagne that your agent sends you; I’ll just have water. I’ll even stay in the bathroom the whole time, I swear! I just want to feel useful!
Before you leave me, empty and alone in the back of the closet, let me just say this: I am the difference between a red carpet success and a missed mark. Don’t let people say, “Oh, what a lovely dress—if only it wasn’t wrinkled.”
