It all started when my 29-year-old called in a panic asking if I
had her college diploma. Having accepted a job in London, she had quit her current
job, sublet her Brooklyn apartment, and applied for a visa to work abroad. Now
she needed to provide proof that she had actually graduated.
I was pretty sure the document was stashed in one of the boxes of
Abby’s stuff I had saved,
along with multiple containers of memorabilia from my other three girls. While
not exactly a hoarder, I seem to be incapable of discarding anything that might
turn out to have some sentimental value during my children’s lifetimes, or
possibly their descendants'. You just never know.
I hauled three dusty plastic bins upstairs and began excavating.
Ambling down Memory Lane, I lost track of time fondly reliving my daughter’s
youth. In addition to her first amusing attempts at writing and countless
pieces of pre-school artwork, which all started looking surprisingly similar, I
culled through photos, journals, school assignments, music programs, athletic
awards, wallets, greeting cards, even a bartending course manual. Okay, maybe
that could go. There was no diploma.
After much anguish on Abby’s part, the background checkers
finally got confirmation of her B.A. from the college itself. They should have
done this in the first place, rather than rely on the applicant to produce a
piece of paper that could easily be falsified, but I didn’t mind. Having
organized the bins more or less chronologically, I looked forward to doing the
same for her sisters. How much of the contents, I wondered, would be of
interest to anyone but me?
Soon afterwards I noticed a new book on the New York Times
Bestseller list, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” by Marie Kondo. Even
the subtitle, “the Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing,” was
intriguing. Could I really change my life simply by becoming less of a packrat?
That’s precisely what the
author promises. By following the “KonMari Method”—a combination of her first
and last names—you can successfully put your house in order, literally and
figuratively.
I’ve read a lot
of self-help books, none of which I’d
call life-changing. This one sounded different. Kondo, who began tidying at age
three, admitted to a less than auspicious start to her career. After downsizing
her own possessions she proceeded to discard, at her discretion, those of her
siblings, then denied doing so. You probably shouldn’t try this at home. Today
she runs a very successful business in Japan with a three-month waiting list
teaching her clients to de-clutter. There is evidently no shortage of untidy
folks in Asia willing to pay big yen to have someone encourage them to just say
no. Ms. Kondo, it appears, is cleaning up nicely.
Sort by category, not location, she suggests. Start with
clothing, then progress to books, papers, miscellany, and finally objects of
sentimental value, the hardest to part with. Pick up and examine each item you
own, decide whether to keep or discard it by asking yourself if it brings you
joy, then choose where to put what you’ve saved. Assessing how you feel about
your belongings, expressing gratitude for those that have fulfilled their
purpose and bidding them farewell, is really about examining your inner self
and achieving a more fulfilling life.
Make tidying a special event, Kondo says, not a daily chore. She
also believes in greeting your house each time you enter and storing your socks
to give them a much-deserved rest from their labors. There is a cultural component to her advice that
many Westerners may not identify with, but I found the way she approaches her
belongings quite charming.
I embraced
the spirit of the KonMari Method if not strictly the strategy, and began with
the bottom dresser drawer in my bedroom. The results were so satisfying that I
immediately moved on to one of the kitchen junk drawers that practically cried
“clean me!” I even managed to toss a couple of things in the trash.
If you too have difficulty with discarding, check out “Don’t Throw it Out” by Lori Baird and
the editors of Yankee Magazine. It contains hundreds of clever, practical ways
to make your possessions “live a long, hard-working life, saving you time, money,
and frustration.” They left out guilt, but you get the gist.
Most other books on the subject don’t include tidying in the
title. I paged through Susan West’s “Organize for a Fresh Start,” “Secrets of
an Organized Mom” by Barbara Reich, “Organizing
Hints & Tips” by Cassandra Kent,
and “How to Organize Just About Everything” by the lone male, Peter Walsh. All offer a myriad of helpful
hints but only Kondo claims that tidying transforms lives. Decluttering, she
declares, will help you discover your true passions, gain confidence in making
decisions, and experience greater happiness and good fortune. Besides a lot of
detritus, what was there to lose by trying?
After my first legit bout of tidying I felt a profound sense of
peace followed by a burst of energy. I even considered attacking the dreaded
to-do list. It was crazy: I wanted to grab a brush and paint over the scuff
marks on the stair risers, make that long-overdue appointment with the
attorney, organize the photos gathering dust for decades, and call the friend I hadn’t seen in
far too long. Did I actually do any of these things? Well no, but one of these
days I might.
My oldest daughter will never pick up this book. Her apartment is
already perpetually tidy. For her, cleaning is cathartic and living without
clutter lets her relax, release stress, feel refreshed, and free herself to
focus on other activities. Even I can relate, theoretically. Creating order out
of chaos in your own little corner of the world can be wonderfully comforting
and liberating.
So what do I really think of the KonMari method? Honestly? It’s
pretty neat.
