A letter from a client

At sixty-Seven, I still hid my laundry basket in the pantry whenever the doorbell rang.

Robyn McKenzie

Whitianga · September 2026

I’ll be honest with you right from the start: writing this feels a bit ridiculous. I am 67 years old, I bake my own bread on Sundays, and in all my life, I have never held an opinion about a laundry basket worth sharing.

 

But three women asked me about it during our Thursday coffee, and I’ve told the story so many times that it seemed easier to just write it down once and for all.

 

It was Amanda who started it all. She went upstairs to the restroom, walked past the bedroom, and came back down with her eyebrows raised.

Robyn, how long have you owned something like that?

She was talking about the laundry basket. The laundry basket. I’ve known this woman for thirty-five years, and the first thing she ever noticed about my place was where I keep my towels.

on the day it was delivered, it took the exact spot of the old one, the plastic one.

The Pantry Shuffle

For as long as I can remember, my laundry basket has had a double life. Monday to Saturday, it was a cracked plastic thing sitting in the hallway, handles gone grey, one side split from being overfilled since about 2013. And the second someone knocked at the door, in it went straight to the pantry, door shut.

I didn't even think about it. It was automatic, like hiding the ironing pile behind the sofa and putting out the good biscuits. The laundry basket was something to be hidden, because every laundry basket I'd ever had was ugly, and that was just how it was.

 

It took me 67 years to notice I was tidying my home away from my own guests.

it stands up on its own, full or empty. the plastic one never managed that.

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What I Had Got Wrong

I had filed it under things that don't matter. It's a bin for socks and towels. Why would anyone make it beautiful, and why would I pay for that?

But here is what I had never added up. The laundry basket is out every single day of the year. It sits in the corner of the hallway where I see it a dozen times a day, more often than most of my ornaments. The vase gets the shelf and the flowers. The basket, which I look at far more often, got the cracked grey plastic.

Once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it. The things we use every day deserve at least as much thought as the things we dust.

It's Called the Miriama

It comes from Eleanor & James, a small boutique, and it is proper craftsmanship.

It is a quilted fabric basket with an embroidered garden scene running all the way around, swallows sweeping above a field of wildflowers, poppies and cornflowers in reds, blues and sand, with long grasses along the base. A wide cream quilted cuff folds over the top. The pattern goes the full way round, so there is no wrong way to set it down. Written out like that, it sounds like too much for a laundry basket. Sitting in the corner of the hallway, it simply looks lovely.

And it isn't just a pretty face, which matters more to me. It holds its shape and stands up on its own, even when empty. The handles are solidly stitched canvas, so a full load makes it down the stairs in one trip. The day I splashed it carrying wet towels, a wipe with a cloth was all it needed. And if it ever needs more than that, it goes through the machine.

 

A simple thing, made properly. That is usually what a good purchase looks like.

Where it lives now. In full view, which is rather the point.

What Happened at Coffee Morning

They came round on Thursday, six of us, coffee and cake, the usual conversation about whose turn it is to host next.

Three of them asked about the basket. Not the cake, the basket. Sandra asked where it was from before she'd even taken her coat off, and Sandra once watched me slip off a step ladder without saying a word. Coming from her, it was practically a medal.

But what stays with me most is quieter than that. Since then, I haven't sent anyone to the pantry, because there is nothing to hide. The basket stays in the hallway, in plain sight, washing and all, and the house feels more honest for it. It is a strange thing to get from a laundry basket, and I am telling you about it anyway.

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Three Things To Know

One. It genuinely stands up. Empty, half full, or overflowing on the day you change all the beds. No slumping into a sad heap in the corner, which is what every soft-sided basket I had before managed within a month.

Two. The sizes are well thought out. A small for the bathroom, a medium for the bedroom, and a large that swallows a full family wash or the spare-room sheets. I have the medium, and it easily holds my week.

Three. It is not precious. You carry it, splash it, overfill it, throw everything in, and it wipes down and gets on with it. Pretty is easy. Pretty that earns its keep is rarer.

ABOUT THE PRICE

I'm careful with money, I won't pretend otherwise, so this part matters to me.

The Miriama is $74.95 NZD for the small. It was $187 NZD. The medium and large cost a little more, and they are on sale too.

 

When something this beautiful drops to that price, I want to know why.

The reason is simple. Eleanor & James is a small boutique on the Coromandel Peninsula, selling directly to you with no one in the middle taking their cut. The Spring Sale is how Eleanor and James mark thirty years together on this coast, and their way of giving something back to the women who have supported them from the very beginning.

 

I read the reviews before I ordered, over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.7 out of 5. Not the perfect five that looks a little suspicious on some sites, which if anything made me trust it more. The same things kept coming up. One woman had written: ‘I ordered one for the hallway and my friends asked where it was from before they'd even put their bags down.’ That was the one that made my mind up.

If You Were at My Kitchen Table

Here is what I would say, with the kettle on and no fuss.

 

Go and stand in your hallway and look at your laundry basket. If your first instinct when someone knocks is to move it, you already know what I'm talking about, and you've been doing your own version of the pantry shuffle for years.

 

A laundry basket won't change your life, and I won't insult you by pretending it will. But you look at it a dozen times a day, every single day, and if it currently makes you feel slightly worse about your home, that is a lot of slightly worse to carry. The sale is on now, and the best prints sell first.

The pantry door stays open now.

Robyn

Miriama | Seashell Radiance Laundry Basket

4.7/5 Based on 300+ reviews

$187

$74.95 NZD
  • Quilted construction that wraps the full way round
  • Stands up on its own, even when empty
  • Solidly stitched canvas handles for heavy loads
  • Soft premium quilted fabric that wipes clean easily
  • Lightweight and foldable, stores away easily when not in use
  • Three sizes: Small, Medium and Large
  • Free delivery with NZ Post

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Spring sale is ending tonight. From $74.95 NZD while stock lasts.

Robyn McKenzie is 67 and lives in Whitianga with a labrador. She is not a home writer.

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