Remember Marie Kondo? We all went a bit mad for her, just for a minute. And I think I know why. Our clutter is crushing us.
We all accumulate stuff. Some of us accumulate a lot of stuff. And some of it certainly sparks joy. But a lot of it just weighs us down.
Maybe it’s got a memory attached to it: the memory is precious but the thing itself, as an object, isn’t something we truly love. Or maybe someone else (our kids, perhaps) love it, and we keep it for them. But of course when the day comes to give it to them, they probably won’t want it. Or we’re keeping it for “someday,” whenever that is.
So we travel through life dragging along things that we can’t let go, but secretly wish we could.
If you’re selling your home, the trick is to hide all your excess stuff, creating space so a buyer can imagine their own stuff there. And the art is to display what’s left in a way that feels like you’ve got a collection, not a random pile of things. The collection may be a specific color, or a kind of thing, or even a shape. But it’s a group that relates in some way.
If it’s not a collection or an accent, then it’s clutter. And if you’re selling a house, it needs to go away. Permanently, if you want to save money on moving it. Or at least temporarily.
But even if you’re not moving, looking at what you’ve got with a critical eye, and rearranging (and storing, if necessary) can make your living space feel like something new, fresh, and very open. A room needs to breathe.
Even my rooms.
My personal taste tends toward Victorian clutter. I have accumulated couches, bowls, and chairs. They’re my weaknesses. But at some point, it all tips into claustrophobia, and I start thinning it out.
I will confess that I sometimes overdo the weeding. I have given away more furniture than I dare tell you. Things have left, in my occasional clean sweeps, that I sometimes miss. But most of the time, my instinct to pare down is the right one.
The intricate doilies that my grandmother made are in a trunk. So are her quilts. They’re too precious and fragile to risk on a bed, but maybe one day I’ll hang them. A lot of knick knacks are in boxes in the basement. Books I never read and don’t want to read, or read and didn’t like, go to the library sale. I have a LOT of books. I have my eye on a set of vintage china, but I’m resisting. I’m also staying away from the old Victrola that’s calling my name.
But if my ornate oak Eastlake bed that was too tall for my ceilings ever shows up again, I want it back. Ceilings can be removed.