Sydney’s become more humid and damp, but I’ve found a fix

It began with a mouldy jacket. I reached into my wardrobe to pull out my black leather jacket and it was coated with a fine layer of fluff. I like fluffy jackets, but not the kind that grow from spores, so I wiped it off.

But over the months, the mould kept spreading, over my jackets and across my coats. As winter approached, I retrieved a pair of boots from a dank corner and they looked more like a science project than a fashion accessory. I’d lived in damp homes before, but not “fungi on the boots” damp. Was Sydney getting more humid? Even in winter?

Sydney’s humidity is getting worse, thanks to global warming. Credit: Nick Moir

Well yes, it is. Global warming causes higher water temperatures which cause water evaporation which leads to moister air. It’s making us hotter, it’s making us sweatier, and it is really bad news for my shoes.

Back in February, I invested in some DampRid, scattering containers of the stuff all over the apartment. Every couple of weeks, I’d pour fresh crystals into the chambers and return to find them transformed into gross, slimy soup.

I upgraded to hangable, moisture-absorbing sachets, which dripped water into unpleasantly bulging bags. I spent a fortune on the stuff; money I could have spent on an entire new wardrobe (that would have got mouldy within a month or two).

I tried to be thrifty and bought discount moisture absorbers in bulk, but (beginner’s mistake!) I forgot to check the dimensions. I ended up with two boxes of credit card-sized sachets, which absorbed no more than my own frustrated tears.

When the April rains arrived, the mould spores partied and multiplied in my closet; the DampRid sweated in the funk. I could no longer fight the force of La Niña alone. I needed to call in the big guns and get dry.

I spent hours browsing online for dehumidifiers, before finally committing to a machine. I was done with DampRid and mould. I was ready to live my life spore free!

It arrived on a Monday morning, a small, square unit on wheels, like an armless R2D2. I let it settle for the requisite three hours, and then plugged it in. A light came on, it made a satisfying whirring sound and began, gloriously, to suck.

I sat on my bed, transfixed. Every few minutes, I’d hear a delightful trickling sound as the moisture from the air gathered was transferred to the tank. Every couple of hours, I’d check the tank to see how much water it had collected. A quarter of a litre, a half a litre, one litre, two… By the end of the first day, I was exhilarated to discover that it had extracted an entire tankful - two-and-a-half litres of water! I poured the water reverently down the sink and, as it drained, I felt as though I’d rid my home of demons.

Two weeks later, I am completely obsessed. Each morning, I move the machine to a different room and leave it to work its magic. Each evening, I excitedly check the tank and thrill at all the liquid that has been siphoned from my home. The dehumidifier gives me a daily sense of fulfilment. No matter what I have achieved, or how I have failed, that full tank of water feels like victory and progress. It is as rewarding as squeezing pimples, without the scarring or pus. It is as gratifying as exfoliating the dry skin on my feet, only wetter, and less disgusting.

My air fryer and steam mop, once my favourite appliances, now sit neglected and forlorn. I rush to my dehumidifier as I would to a beloved child. Emptying the tank is the favourite part of my day. It is the gift that keeps on giving, quite literally because the planet keeps getting warmer.

I know, of course, that running another appliance isn’t helping the environment. I know, too, that my dehumidifier is but a Band-Aid on a larger problem. But I can’t tell you how happy I am that my black leather jacket remains mould free! Now I just need the world to stay cool enough to wear it.

Kerri Sackville is an author, columnist and mother of three.