BOWLING GREEN — As Becky White-Schooner talked about a throwback trend to hearth and home, family memories wrapped the room in a warm hug.

She’s a collector. A purist. And when it comes to aprons, she likes to tie one on.

“Aprons have always figured in my life in one capacity or another,” she said as she gently, and lovingly, set out on display dozens of aprons in a variety of fabrics and styles. She had packed them in a vintage suitcase, the one her grandmother carried when she went off to college.

Aprons. Stitched together fabrics of life.

From countryside to cities wide, seek-and-find missions are under way for aprons. New, retro, vintage. Handmade, machine-made.

Popular in particular: aprons with back stories, those worn by relatives. Vintage aprons are finding their way around waists of women who delight in strings that connect them to their moms and grandmothers.

RELATED: Aprons are the fabric of history and home

During Mrs. White-Schooner’s apron program, hosted by the Wood County Park District, she talked about various facets of aprons, from the personal to the practical, from no-fuss to fanciful. Silks to feed sacks, lace to rickrack.

As nearly 30 women arrived for the program at Carter Historic Farm, Lindy Eynon of Bowling Green said she always wears aprons when she bakes. “I’m messy,” she said. “My favorite apron is one made for me by my grandma. It is made from towels and has a fancy front. I got it as a bridal shower gift.” Her grandmother, Luella Dewese, who made that favorite apron, lived on Carter Road near the farmhouse where the program was held.

Aprons definitely evoke home, comfort, and being loved, said Mrs. White-Schooner of Weston.

Her earliest memories, as well as those later in life, relate to aprons.

Her grandmother worked at a bank, and 5-year-old Becky would tag along with grandpa to pick up grandma after work. At home, grandma changed clothes, put on her apron, and set about doing her tasks.

When she was older, Becky went to work at 4 a.m. at her mom’s bakery. The first order of business: put on an apron to keep Becky’s school clothes clean.

In college, Becky made canvas aprons to protect her clothes from paint, clay, and ink. A creative soul, she dressed up her creations. God forbid, she said, that she would wear a plain white apron.

Later, as a floral designer, she kept knife, tape, and other items essential to her work close at hand in her apron pockets.

On an epiphany day, she realized how much aprons were literally tied to her — as nostalgia with the bakery apron, as expression during art classes, and as a tool for a floral designer. “Aprons are a part of me and how I function in my careers,” she said, and she never imagined how much a single piece of material could have such multiple impacts on her life.

A “Go for it, girls” drive kicked in, pumping her interest in the evolution of aprons from basic and bland to decorative and delicious in details.

Pioneer women donned aprons to protect their limited wardrobe, perhaps a total of three dresses, she told the audience. On wagon trains, no Jo-Ann Fabrics stores were over the next hill, she said.

Women wore their dresses until portions of fabric wore out; remaining material transitioned into a shirt for a child, curtains, or aprons.

Rural flavor of apron history includes what she called a “neat part of Americana” — feed sacks, designed by seed companies to draw buyers who used the empty sacks to make dresses, aprons, and other items from the pretty-patterned material. The grain in the sacks went to the chickens, cows, or other farm animals.

At least a few women cringed when Mrs. White-Schooner spoke of the wasp-waisted, pearl-necklace adorned women of the 1950s — think June Cleaver —who went about their housework in pert dresses, high heels, and always, perfect hair.

Then came the 1960s and 1970s, and women roared. Aprons, interpreted then as a symbol of servitude, came off, as did bras, she noted.

Decades passed. “Everything old becomes new again,” Mrs. White-Schooner said. “A lot more of us are wearing aprons again. You are seeing aprons more and more and more.”

Consider this: Beth Sheely of Lambertville quit a career at Owens Corning, opened Apron Strings LLC, and since Feb. 1 has pieced together her dream job.

Mrs. Sheely, as the program was ending, said she had just cut out 240 aprons. Her assistant: her mother, Carole Allen of Rossford, who is the “pocket turner” as the aprons are made.

“I’m thrilled for her,” Mrs. Allen said of her daughter. “She left an important job to open her apron business.”

Aprons, Mrs. Sheely said, are about home. In our transient society, wearing an apron ties a person closer to home, to family memories, she added. “So many people today want aprons. So many people today want that feeling of home.” As you move, you take your apron, and with it, you take a piece of home, she said.

Other stories were shared, such as from Diane of Bowling Green who recalled a well-worn apron from when she was a child. Ducks accent the material. How appropriate, she said. “I married a Drake.”

Karen Wood of Bowling Green recalled a trip to Scotland 10 years ago where she met a woman, Monica, in a tiny village. They became friends. Monica wanted to give her new friend a gift, but lacked money. Years later, a package arrived, a gift for Karen: an old apron, adorned with fabric figures of children in the village, including Monica as a child. “It was her most important possession,” Karen said, holding the apron. “Now, it’s important to me.”

Mandi Canby who lives near Bowling Green, and her friend Kiplyn Phommalee, who lives near Pemberville sported aprons that Mrs. Canby pulled from her purse as the program began. “I just wanted to be festive,” Mrs. Canby said about her red-and-white apron featuring a snowflake-print material.

Mrs. Phommalee, who wore a purple apron, said apron pockets are particularly useful during canning season, such as to stash lids and rims.

Canning, Mrs. Canby said, is one facet of the apron trend. “I think there is interest in that whole era when things were simple and not as complex. People now want to know where their food comes from.”

As she ended the program, Mrs. White-Schooner turned a wee bit weepy. She showed an apron made by her great-great-great grandmother.

Years back, the beautiful apron caught the eye and interest of Mrs. White-Schooner’s grandmother, Dorothy White. Known for her smarts, and her moxie, Dorothy was the first in the family to graduate from college.

After graduation, Dorothy announced she had a job in Arizona, and she had a bus ticket.

There was no job, but there was an itch for adventure. At the bus station, Dorothy’s mother gave her a small box and orders to keep it closed until Dorothy arrived in Arizona.

In Chicago, a curious Dorothy opened the box.

Inside, a handwritten note from her mother. ”Now you’ve left the nest. It’s your time to fly.”

It continued: “You won’t need these any more.” Folded neatly in the box: cut apron strings, snipped from the family heirloom.

Contact Janet Romaker at: 419-724-6006 or jromaker@theblade.com

First Published March 15, 2015, 4:00 a.m.