Marie Kondo: Tidying with sugar on it
Who has not seen even one segment of the Netflix series, "Tidying Up with Marie Kondo"? Hands? Anyone?
Kondo's best-seller, "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up", influenced me markedly. (A summary is here.)
I followed the category sequence for tidying, mastered the folding. I still follow her KonMari principles in a low-key way; not everything needs to "spark joy"; usefulness is just fine.
Then, I watched her in action, on Netflix. In front of a mountain of clothes taller than she, Kondo murmurs, "So much!" Facing a brimming closet, the soft-voiced Kondo is very different from the forthright American, Stacy London, who would say, "We're going to keep three good jackets and get rid of the other eighteen today."
The word I return to each time I watch her is, adorable. She does not walk from room to room, she jetés, a sprite in false eyelashes, white (part of her brand image) and skirts (trousers do not spark joy for her). Her only accessory is her interpreter, who captures her soothing tone and winsome humour. I keep wondering what this would cost if I paid for it.
She has some odd notions. "Feel the energy in the garment", Kondo said, as she showed Rachel Ray how to fold a shirt. I do not believe that there is energy in a garment, unless she is speaking of static electricity.
There is a keen mind behind this demure facade; her empire includes certification of KonMari Method consultants (who charge $100/hr., minimum of five hours, a tidy sum indeed), a line of storage boxes, and more products to come.
Kondo's "Tidying Up" book is forthright about the enervating effect of overflow. On the Netflix series, she avoids serious purges. Clients learn to stow possessions in stacked, matching boxes, but they still have the stuff. She lets her them keep sentimental items; the problem is that when you are past 50, nearly everything can hold sentiment.
One Sunday, I had the jarring experience of watching a Kondo segment back to back with the A&E series "Hoarders", which was playing at the gym.
Obsessive hoarding is considered a mental health issue, but what is the difference between the eighty-year-old man in a double-wide crammed with scrap metal and cats, and the retired woman in her large house with several rooms made impassable by trendy clothes and shoes? Economic status and a more tolerant family.
"Hoarders" is a one-trick pony of a show with a creepy, voyeuristic element; the camera tracks troubled people one step away from eviction and usually embroiled in family conflict. Pets are often neglected and suffering; it's hard to watch.
"Tidying Up" is "Hoarders" lite; the issue for Kondo's clients is wealth, not health. A Californian woman said, "I have always loved clothes and shopping... 'retail therapy' is real for me. When I get mad at him (her spouse), I hit him in the wallet." That wallet must be pulp.
When we moved to Montréal in 2011, we divested at least 60% of our possessions, but also rented a storage unit. The plan was to keep it for a year, until we figured out what we'd need. After two unit downsizes, we emptied it last month. In true Kondo fashion, we held on to family heirlooms and sentimental objects.
Then I learned of another de-cluttering approach called Swedish Death Cleaning, a term that reminded me of Swedish Death Metal, but means "Don't Leave a Mess for the Heirs". If the term creeps you out, abridge it to "SDC".
Out with the leftover furniture, obsolete business records, and dusty cake-decorating equipment! A custom-painted puppet theatre went to our great-nephew Olivier, an art deco chandelier to an antique dealer.
It took me most of a year to decide to sell my great-grandfather's bed, made in the mid-19th century from his own walnut trees—but so be it. After seven years of my importuning, I saw that the kids didn't want it.
It is now being dreamed in by a sweet four-year-old girl, and I feel fine.
I have Marie Kondo to thank for her advice to picture the end point I wanted: never setting foot in a storage facility again.
Whether we buy Kondo's chic Hikidashi boxes or the Ikea ones with the tiny screws that keep falling out, unless we divest unused things, we are only organizing the accumulation instead of reducing it.
Sometimes the most important clutter to deal with is what's in your head.
I followed the category sequence for tidying, mastered the folding. I still follow her KonMari principles in a low-key way; not everything needs to "spark joy"; usefulness is just fine.
Then, I watched her in action, on Netflix. In front of a mountain of clothes taller than she, Kondo murmurs, "So much!" Facing a brimming closet, the soft-voiced Kondo is very different from the forthright American, Stacy London, who would say, "We're going to keep three good jackets and get rid of the other eighteen today."
The word I return to each time I watch her is, adorable. She does not walk from room to room, she jetés, a sprite in false eyelashes, white (part of her brand image) and skirts (trousers do not spark joy for her). Her only accessory is her interpreter, who captures her soothing tone and winsome humour. I keep wondering what this would cost if I paid for it.
She has some odd notions. "Feel the energy in the garment", Kondo said, as she showed Rachel Ray how to fold a shirt. I do not believe that there is energy in a garment, unless she is speaking of static electricity.
There is a keen mind behind this demure facade; her empire includes certification of KonMari Method consultants (who charge $100/hr., minimum of five hours, a tidy sum indeed), a line of storage boxes, and more products to come.
Kondo's "Tidying Up" book is forthright about the enervating effect of overflow. On the Netflix series, she avoids serious purges. Clients learn to stow possessions in stacked, matching boxes, but they still have the stuff. She lets her them keep sentimental items; the problem is that when you are past 50, nearly everything can hold sentiment.
One Sunday, I had the jarring experience of watching a Kondo segment back to back with the A&E series "Hoarders", which was playing at the gym.Obsessive hoarding is considered a mental health issue, but what is the difference between the eighty-year-old man in a double-wide crammed with scrap metal and cats, and the retired woman in her large house with several rooms made impassable by trendy clothes and shoes? Economic status and a more tolerant family.
"Hoarders" is a one-trick pony of a show with a creepy, voyeuristic element; the camera tracks troubled people one step away from eviction and usually embroiled in family conflict. Pets are often neglected and suffering; it's hard to watch.
"Tidying Up" is "Hoarders" lite; the issue for Kondo's clients is wealth, not health. A Californian woman said, "I have always loved clothes and shopping... 'retail therapy' is real for me. When I get mad at him (her spouse), I hit him in the wallet." That wallet must be pulp.
When we moved to Montréal in 2011, we divested at least 60% of our possessions, but also rented a storage unit. The plan was to keep it for a year, until we figured out what we'd need. After two unit downsizes, we emptied it last month. In true Kondo fashion, we held on to family heirlooms and sentimental objects.
Then I learned of another de-cluttering approach called Swedish Death Cleaning, a term that reminded me of Swedish Death Metal, but means "Don't Leave a Mess for the Heirs". If the term creeps you out, abridge it to "SDC".
Out with the leftover furniture, obsolete business records, and dusty cake-decorating equipment! A custom-painted puppet theatre went to our great-nephew Olivier, an art deco chandelier to an antique dealer.It took me most of a year to decide to sell my great-grandfather's bed, made in the mid-19th century from his own walnut trees—but so be it. After seven years of my importuning, I saw that the kids didn't want it.
It is now being dreamed in by a sweet four-year-old girl, and I feel fine.
I have Marie Kondo to thank for her advice to picture the end point I wanted: never setting foot in a storage facility again.
Whether we buy Kondo's chic Hikidashi boxes or the Ikea ones with the tiny screws that keep falling out, unless we divest unused things, we are only organizing the accumulation instead of reducing it.
Sometimes the most important clutter to deal with is what's in your head.
Comments
Although late to the March 17 post, I wondered if the knitters who commented know about "Knitted Knockers". https://www.knittedknockers.org/
There are so many women undergoing surgery for breast cancer, and while some have reconstructive surgery, many do not. A knitted prosthesis, as described in the website is usually more comfortable and adjustable than the manufactured ones. They are easy to knit, and when our yarn store first brought this to the attention of local knitters, many responded.
Just saying....
LmC in N.B.
Love the Knitted Knockers project! (I am happy that there are so many options, including going without prostheses.)
LauraH: Spring cleaning! You know the options re what to do with it, but perhaps like me and that bed, it is a wrench to finally say, That's it. But now that it's done, very satisfying
My 88 year old MIL lives in a 4 bedroom house. On 5 acres with outbuildings. She has never gotten rid of anything. I dread what's in our future there.
Also, Marie Kondo is adorable! -Lily
And Yes! Ms. Kondo is adorable. :)
I have seen so many downsized homes in which which the owners merely stuffed their old furnishings and decor into a smaller space. When the new home is smaller, that visually overloads a room.
Angela Pea: See Kim's comment! If there is a lot he wants to keep "forever", there is the storage facility: it is sometimes the price to keep the peace. Way more of a problem if your husband wants to live with the objects. Warm wishes for a peaceful resolution.
When my FIL moved in with us ~5 years ago and we redid the basement into an apartment for him, we had to get rid of roughly 30% of our stuff. It was a blessing in disguise. I continue to evaluate and refine the process--it's a never-ending one, apparently.
Jean Shaw: Yes, it's a process. The result of not pruning can be seen in some of the comments of readers faced with cleaning out someone else's accumulation. At the same time, if someone loves something that is not especially useful, like a collection of travel fridge magnets, I say fine, and enjoy.
Mardel: I just reread the post in which I interviewed Penny, the estate organizer, who said there are two types of value, sentimental and monetary, and to ask ones' self why something should be kept. I just discarded boxes my mother's sentimental possessions, keeping a small selection. That took me a decade because (even though I don't believe she would know) I thought if they meant something to her, they should to me. So I photographed them, and then discarded them.
I've divested myself of a huge amount of books and other things, but it is physically difficult. They have to be carried to the écocentre (not near a métro station) or to charity shops - I've taken very nice collections to the latter, who were most appreciative.
A friend in Brooklyn had to deal with the huge accumulation in his widower father's home in Washington DC (where the latter had moved for work). The entire large basement was full of dubious stuff, and the house itself with only slightly less dubious stuff (at least not mouldy).
My major problem with Ms Kondo is that she does not appreciate books and posits 30 as a normal book cohort. I have at least that many who were given to me or signed by the authors, friends living or dead. There are instructions for rehoming them, but I intend to keep those as long as I live.
We have no car, and I dispose of things regularly: carry items (on foot or by bus) to the donation centre, put bigger things on the street (gone in hours), post on Freecycle specifying must be picked up; give to someone who can use it. But a whole apartment full, such as you deal with with your tenants association, is daunting. The sheer scale makes it a whole different level of work!
A real problem is disposal of large furniture, especially painted or varnished wood— hard to recycle because the solvents have penetrated the wood, or upholstered pieces.
I had an antique brass and iron bed that was in bad shape; put it out and it was collected within an hour.
I love that you were able to give that beautiful bed to someone who appreciates it and perhaps knows something of its history. I think that may be the key to passing on the more valuable or special items. Knowing it has found a good home is a good feeling. That said, I feel a little lighter with every bag and box that goes out that front door!
(The first time I read of S.D.C., I immediately liked the idea. Then they said it is usually started around the age of 50! After my initial gasp, I had a good laugh. Never too soon to start, I guess.)
re age 50 and SDC: that's around the time when many of us lose members of the older generation and get stuck with the clean-out. The time when we vow, "I'm not foisting this on my family."
The antique bed problem was that it needed a custom mattress as it was not a standard size- main reason why family did not take it. I gave the buyer a list of suppliers and prices so she knew what she was facing, as well as its history.
re your husband's former wife and her possessions: My mother had a friend, Maggie, who had her portrait done, and requested an impressive diamond and sapphire necklace be painted on her. The portraitist asked her to wear it; she replied "I don't have one, I just want my husband's next wife to tell that cheap SOB she better get one too."
Long answer but such an important question. Since you have made "many attempts" you've probably done things I am suggesting—but sometimes its' a matter of exposure and thinking beyond the immediate community.
Sell:
- Auction as a lot- use a local auction house an an online site like LiveAuctioneers
- Place them with a consignment shop that specializes in decor items
- Contact a dealer in folk art; be prepared for a lowball offer, sigh
- List, e.g., Kijiji, OfferUp, eBay and be patient. Dealers often check these sites.
Donate, with benefits:
- Church or charity auction or bazaar: Donate; some will issue you a donation receipt
Give away:
A. Find someone who'd love it; make it your mission
Example: Young adults decorating a first apartment; or an African-American cultural centre who would love the African pieces.; a school who wants to decorate the lounge; a young professional looking for a way to make a bland office interesting; the public area of an assisted living centre; a halfway or resettlement house. (Folk art is terrific for such places as it is not as fragile as works on paper.)
Think broadly, speak to friends. A very satisfying route!
B. Free range
Leave by the curb (in clement weather) for someone to take. That is often a distasteful suggestion to the owner, I'm sensitive to that. But many times I have admired, say, a charming print someone has, and been told, "I picked it off the street!" There is a certain serendipity to it.
I live in a condo building where there is a specific area for persons to leave things to give away. You'd be surprised at the nice things that have been offered.
C. Online
We use the online site Freecycle, which has a local offer/request board. We have had some pleasant experiences. I have also had one slightly negative one, a no-show, but that wasn't a big deal... someone else took the things a few days later. There are similar organizations in many locales.
Sometimes, try as you might, no one seems to want it. Give yourself credit for trying and donate it to a thrift.
Also contact Natural History, Outsider Art museums for donating ethnic/folk art.
Many people would appreciate seeing these.
Try listing on Etsy or Ebay.
Good luck finding homes for these.
I too do not want to leave a mess for others, and it is not just about the future; I actively enjoy living with the spaciousness and order.
Lori Wong: Did you notice on some of those segments there is often someone eager to declutter and a partner who resists? (Remember the doctor with the garage crammed with her daughters’ clothes (since they were born) and toys which they no longer used? She was deeply anxious about « having to give it up ». I saw that for some persons, possessions are proxies for love, security, identity—among other needs.