Postscript to Tidying Up

After reading Marie Kondo’s first book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, I decided to experiment with some of her suggestions to test their effectiveness. Since I do not have a house or apartment of my own, and because I thoroughly cleaned out my closet and keepsakes quite recently, I did not apply her broad two-step process of discarding and then putting each item in its place in order to tidy my space. Instead, I chose to apply a rather insignificant portion of the book—how to fold clothes.

Kondo comments in her book that she teaches most of her clients how to fold their clothes during their consultation sessions. Based on the examples she gives, many people fail to take time to fold their clothes and may not know how to fold at all. I found this a bit shocking, since I folded my clothes even in college, where it probably would have been easier to leave them in the laundry basket. I wondered what could possibly be different about Kondo’s method of folding.

The basic suggestion Kondo gives is that you should aim to fold your clothes into a perfect rectangle. She says that items should be stored vertically—which makes sense for books and pencils, but not necessarily for shirts or socks. If items are stacked, the items on the bottom are subjected to more pressure, wrinkling them. In addition, you cannot see what exactly you have in the drawer if your clothes are stacked.

As skeptical as I was at first, that idea is what finally persuaded me. I enjoyed the thought of being able to see every single piece of clothing in my drawer when I opened it up, and so I decided to try Kondo’s advice. Last weekend, I re-folded each item of clothing in five of my six drawers so that it was in a rectangle of drawer height, able to stand vertically next to the other clothes.

Here are the results:

 Now I can see all of my t-shirts at once!

 

My socks fit in the drawer much better this way!

I have not paid attention to whether this method of storage actually reduces wrinkling. It does take a little more time to fold clothes like this, but it is satisfying to reach in and grab exactly what I want instead of shuffling through stacks of clothes.

As of now, I have not experimented with any of Kondo’s other concepts. Some I find too strange—such as the idea of thanking each possession before discarding it—and others are not presently relevant to my life. I do wish I had read her book before sorting through my pile of keepsakes, since I may have approached the project differently.

On the topic of keepsakes Kondo says, “It is not our memories but the person we have become because of those past experiences that we should treasure. This is the lesson these keepsakes teach us when we sort them. The space in which we live should be for the person we are becoming now, not for the person we were in the past.” It is this attitude of embracing who we are that frees us from holding on to unnecessary clutter.

It's Okay to Lose the Baggage

Sheets of kindergarten-ruled writing paper with misshapen letters; a shakily traced hand-turkey; certificates of achievement from dance, gymnastics, and cross country; birthday cards, first communion cards, graduation cards; a newspaper clipping showing a piano performance—these are a few of the souvenirs of my twenty-three years on this planet.

We all have keepsakes like this—that one drawer in our desks that we shove papers into and never clean out until it is overflowing, a box in the back of our closet, the knickknacks cluttering our dresser—and still we save more clippings, cards, and curios. It is overwhelming. I am here to ask: Why do we do this?

There are many reasons. A particular drawing holds value because we liked who we were when we made it. Or an object of no significance to someone else—like a pop tab with glued-on googly eyes—reminds us of an inside joke shared with a high school best friend. Programs, ticket stubs, and amusement park maps stack up on our bookshelves because we enjoyed those experiences. Wistfully, we pack these tokens away, perhaps hoping that we will preserve the past by doing so. What really happens is that we forget about the items, pack them away in some dark closet, and flip through the filing cabinets of our minds when we want to relive a memory.

It is true that from time to time we do need physical reminders of various aspects of our lives. This is why we hang photographs of our family members and friends around our homes or write a grocery list before going to the store. However, it becomes impossible and impractical to keep a material item from every single event in our past, even of all the important events. Keeping all of those papers and trinkets would overwhelm us with clutter.

Saying goodbye to these remnants of our past is healthy, since as we grow in maturity, we put those immature ways behind us. Freeing ourselves from the clutter of the past liberates us to live more fully in the present. We will remember the events of our lives, as they remain in our minds and hearts, but we are less tempted to dwell there. There is also an entirely practical element to decluttering: We have fewer boxes to move if we relocate and valuable storage space becomes available.

Finally, when it comes down to the crux, the whole of our experience is contained within our persons and material items cannot fully express that experience to another. I have seen this in the knickknacks and papers my parents have had to sort through after my grandparents’ deaths. Some are interesting to look at for their historical significance, but others—old grade reports, high school diplomas, snapshots of old friends—lose their meaning in the absence of the person who treasured them. My grandmother’s papers express barely a sliver of who she was.

Should we throw away everything that reminds us of the past then? Not necessarily. But we should think about what to keep and choose only what is most important.* Don’t be afraid to throw away (or recycle) the rest. It's okay to lose the baggage.

 

*Some questions to ask yourself:

Will I look at that (card, paper, program, map) again? 

Does this item remind me of the best version of myself?   

Would my grandchild want to keep this?