Ivy Washing Detergent: A Little Laundry Magic from the Hedgerow
How to make a botanical laundry liquid from English ivy, with a little history, folklore and the fascinating science of washing with plants.
I've been wanting to experiment with making my own botanical laundry detergent for ages. If I'm honest, I'd been patiently waiting for autumn, with my heart set on the late September windfall of horse chestnuts. Because, rather astonishingly, those familiar conkers we spend our childhoods collecting can actually be used to wash our clothes! They contain naturally occurring compounds called saponins, which have soap-like properties and can be extracted to make a simple laundry liquid.
Sadly though, my usual trees just didn't put on their big show this year. Luckily for me, however, ivy came to the rescue and has now earned itself a place in my utility cupboard.
English ivy (Hedera helix) is one of those plants we walk past most days without giving it much thought. It's evergreen, grows in abundance and seems to find its way into just about every garden, hedgerow and patch of woodland. But of all the things you might know about ivy, perhaps one of the more surprising is that its leaves contain those very same soap-like compounds found in horse chestnuts. In fact, with a little water and heat, they can be turned into a simple botanical washing liquid.
I followed a recipe from the wonderful Nancy Birtwhistle, but what really sparked my curiosity was discovering that washing with ivy isn't simply a modern experiment in natural cleaning. It's a practice with a surprisingly interesting history, including some wonderful old accounts of women using boiled ivy leaves to wash their darkest clothes.
Washing your darks with ivy
One of the loveliest things I came across while researching ivy was a collection of Irish folklore, recorded during the 1930s, describing how people once used the plant for washing clothes.
In County Wexford, there's an account of women gathering ivy leaves, boiling them in water and using the resulting liquid to wash their black dresses and aprons. Apparently, it was particularly valued for removing stains without spoiling the dark colour of the fabric.
Another account, from County Offaly, describes a grandmother collecting ivy leaves from a wall, boiling them for twenty minutes and then using the strained liquid and a hand brush to clean suits.
Twenty minutes! Exactly the same simmering time as the recipe I was following in my own kitchen, almost a century later.
I find these little details fascinating. Not least because they offer a glimpse into the everyday domestic knowledge that rarely gets much attention in traditional herbal books. We tend to think of plants in terms of food, medicine or perhaps fragrance, but their place in household life was once much broader.
And ivy wasn't the only botanical laundry ingredient. Soapwort (Saponaria officinalis) was traditionally used for washing delicate textiles, while horse chestnuts could also be prepared to release their natural washing compounds.
During the Second World War, when soap was scarce in parts of Europe, instructions for making washing preparations from plants such as ivy, soapwort and horse chestnut appeared as practical alternatives.
It seems our ancestors were rather good at making use of what was growing around them.
How can ivy leaves wash your clothes?
The secret is in those saponins.
Their name comes from the Latin sapo, meaning soap, and they're found in a surprisingly wide variety of plants.
Saponins are natural surfactants, which means they help water interact with oils and grease. Normally, water and oil don't mix particularly well, but saponin molecules have one part that interacts with water and another that interacts with oily substances. This allows them to help loosen and disperse certain types of dirt so they can be washed away.
They're also responsible for the gentle foam that forms when you shake a saponin-rich liquid.
Saponins also have important roles within the plants themselves. Some are involved in chemical defence, helping protect against certain fungi, insects and other organisms. Their biological activity is also a useful reminder that just because a compound comes from a plant doesn't necessarily mean it's harmless.
And while the saponins in ivy have genuine washing properties, a little foam doesn't automatically mean a homemade preparation will perform as well as a modern laundry detergent. Commercial formulations contain carefully balanced ingredients to tackle different types of stains, manage hard water and keep loosened dirt suspended in the wash.
Still, I love that we can now understand some of the chemistry behind a preparation people were making and using generations before anyone knew what a saponin was.
How to make ivy washing detergent
This is the recipe I used, from Nancy Birtwhistle's wonderful book Clean Magic, where you'll find it under the name Magic Suds – Ivy Detergent.
It's a beautifully straightforward preparation, and apart from gathering the leaves, there's very little hands-on work involved.
Makes: Approximately 1 litre
Preparation time: 10 minutes
Simmering time: 20 minutes, plus cooling
Ingredients
100g mature English ivy leaves (Hedera helix)
1.1 litres cold water
Equipment
A large saucepan with a lid
Scissors
A sieve and fine strainer
A clean bottle or jar
Method
If you'd like to see how it all comes together, I've filmed the process of making my ivy laundry liquid, from gathering and preparing the leaves to straining and bottling the finished wash. You can watch the video below, and you'll find step-by-step instructions just underneath.
1. Gather your ivy
Choose mature, dark green leaves with prominent veins rather than the softer, younger growth. Make sure you've correctly identified English ivy and avoid gathering from busy roadsides or anywhere that may have been sprayed.
2. Wash and chop
Give the leaves a thorough rinse in cold water to remove any dirt or debris, then use scissors to snip them into strips. This helps expose more of the leaf tissue to the water.
3. Simmer
Place the chopped leaves into a large saucepan with 1.1 litres of cold water. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat, cover with a lid and simmer gently for 20 minutes.
4. Cool and strain
Turn off the heat and allow everything to cool completely. Strain through a sieve to remove the leaves, then pass the liquid through a finer strainer to catch any remaining plant particles.
5. Bottle
Pour the finished liquid into a clean, clearly labelled bottle or jar.
You'll be left with a greenish botanical liquid which, if you give it a little shake, may produce a gentle foam from the extracted saponins.
And if you're wondering what it smells like, it's quite distinctly green and earthy, with that slightly grassy, vegetal aroma you might expect from simmering a saucepan full of leaves. It certainly doesn't smell like conventional laundry detergent you may be used to. There's no added fragrance, just the smell of the ivy itself.
How to use it
Nancy recommends using approximately 150ml of ivy liquid per wash, alongside two tablespoons of washing soda (sodium carbonate) in the detergent drawer.
Washing soda is another traditional laundry ingredient, helping to soften water and improve the removal of certain types of dirt and grease.
Her original recipe also suggests adding fabric softener separately, if you normally use one.
I'd begin with lightly soiled, everyday laundry rather than anything heavily stained or delicate. And while those old accounts of ivy being used to wash black clothing are intriguing, they don't guarantee that every modern fabric or dye will respond in the same way, so I'd test it on something inconspicuous first.
It's also worth checking your washing machine manufacturer's advice before using homemade detergents, as botanical preparations aren't standardised for machine use.
A little note on storage and safety
Although ivy is an incredibly familiar plant, it isn't entirely harmless. Its leaves contain compounds that can irritate the skin, and the leaves and berries are harmful if swallowed. It's sensible to wear gloves when gathering and cutting ivy, particularly if you have sensitive skin, and to keep both the leaves and finished liquid well away from children and pets.
Because this is a water-based plant preparation without preservatives, it can also spoil. Nancy suggests a shelf life of two to three weeks, but I'd personally be more cautious and even consider keeping it refrigerated, using it within a few days or freezing small portions for later.
And while ivy liquid has surfactant properties, it hasn't been demonstrated to provide the reliable hygienic cleaning needed for nappies, illness-related laundry or heavily contaminated fabrics. For those, I'd stick with a suitable conventional detergent and washing programme.
From the hedgerow to the laundry cupboard
I love discovering that something as familiar as ivy has this whole other history, that its leaves contain compounds capable of helping us wash our clothes, and that women were boiling those same leaves in their kitchens generations before I was standing over my own saucepan.
It's a lovely reminder that the home apothecary has never been exclusively about medicinal plants. There's a whole world of botanical knowledge woven into the everyday business of keeping a home, from washing and cleaning to dyeing, preserving and making things last.
And I think there's something very much worth keeping alive in that.
References and further reading
Nancy Birtwhistle, Clean Magic, 'Magic Suds – Ivy Detergent'. Recipe reproduced in adapted form with acknowledgement.
National Folklore Collection, University College Dublin, How They Washed Blankets etc., County Wexford (1938). Read the original folklore account.
National Folklore Collection, Old Crafts – Ivy Leaves, County Offaly. Read the original account.
European Medicines Agency, Hedera helix L., folium, assessment documentation on ivy leaf constituents and safety.
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