An artistic display of missing socks? Only in Northampton.

NORTHAMPTON — “Hey, that’s the sock I thought was missing!” Leo Wilson exclaimed near the dryers at Masonic Street Laundromat. The garment in question was a gray-and-navy patterned cotton blend, and had it not been found, it might have been reborn as art. Or something art-adjacent.

Loyal customers know: The laundromat’s proprietor, Jason Foster, moonlights as the de facto curator/artist behind what might be the world’s only interactive gallery of lost socks. Pinned to a large cork board just past the washing machines are dozens of socks that patrons have left behind: crew socks, ankle socks, toddler socks, and five-toes; polka-dotted, tie-dyed, studded, and seasonally themed; a riot of colors and designs, from black cats and winged pugs to Elsa and SpongeBob. As a wall label explains, the interactive piece, “Quite Socking,” is a gift of the Left Behind Enterprises Corporation and reflects “the essence of the Northampton community” in all of its “soxual diversity.” Viewers are invited to add to or take from the display.

In fact, the sock wall is just one visual attraction at the downtown laundromat, which began doubling as a makeshift gallery for artwork and poetry by Smith College students in 2021, after a student approached Foster about hosting an exhibition there. The Smith show hasn’t changed much — that student has since graduated — but the sock display is constantly evolving. Foster considers design, color, shape, and available spots on the board when pinning socks, often according to his mood at the time. “If I know I have a broken machine to deal with, I will be less intentional in dealing with socks. If I’m in a hurry to get out of there, less concerned with placement,” he explained. “I’ve had customers completely rearrange the socks based on color, patterns, and sizes. It can be very random or very intentional.”

The wall has attracted selfie seekers, in addition to regular laundry customers.

On a recent weekday, a few customers eyed the various artworks in between changing loads. Wilson, who’s 24 and works at the local food co-op, normally brings a book along on laundry day, but finds this laundromat’s displays diverting enough. “It’s unexpected — this is a place where you are just . . . waiting, you’re just watching your clothes. So, it’s nice to have stuff to look at in the meantime,” they said. “This is like the art gallery for the working class.”

Patricia O’Toole, who works at Packard’s pub next door, said she appreciates that the walls are used to showcase the talents of local artists and students. She also sees a certain universality in the sock wall: “We all lose them,” she said.

When not curating his sock exhibit, Foster is a karate instructor at a local dojo he also owns. Both businesses are “very community-oriented,” Foster noted, but “as a laundromat owner, you see and hear everything.”

Like people’s dirty laundry.

The sock gallery started in late spring 2020, Foster said, after the laundromat’s lost-and-found bin — largely filled with socks, both clean and dirty — had been stolen twice. He was about to buy yet another bin when he realized it wasn’t worth replacing. “No one has ever come in and said, ‘Oh, that’s my sock!’ digging through the lost and found,” said Foster, who bought the laundromat in 2019.

Meanwhile, lost socks were starting to pile up on a table. One day a customer joked he should create a gallery. “And I looked at him, and I said, ‘I think that’s a great idea.’ So I took a thumbtack, and I started tacking the socks onto the wall,” he said.

Before long, the display started to draw attention from customers. “Ironically, they were like, ‘Wait, that’s my sock!’ ” Foster said. “All of a sudden, people were taking their socks back.”

Not that there’s been any shortage. By now, Foster says, he’d have enough lost socks to cover every wall had he kept them all. But he’s started donating some to a local church, and he’s also become more selective in his curation. “Give me a unique pattern and good colors,” he said. For instance, “We have a panda sock with two eyes. That is one of the originals that’s been up there for two-plus years. And it’s like, that’s a cool sock.”

One customer was so infatuated with a Rolling Stones sock that Foster gave it to her as a gift; she later hung it on her own wall.

Though Foster originally billed the space as a sock museum, he thinks “interactive gallery” is more to the point. “I thought, ‘Well, I’m not really a museum because I’m not giving the history of the customer who lost the sock,’ ” he said.

Why do so many socks go missing in the first place? They either get stuck in the back of the dryer or in the rubber seal of the washing machine, said Foster, who wears “pretty boring socks” in white, gray, or black.

It has nothing to do with the time of year, he added — there’s no “high season for missing socks” — and more to do with distraction. Too many loads, too little time.

Brooke Hauser can be reached at [email protected]. Follow her @brookehauser.