My Purging and De-Cluttering Binge

(Photo Credit: eBay)

At the risk of over sharing, I’ll admit I never read the bestseller popular among my daughter Daphne and her friends, Marie Kondo’s Spark Joy: An Illustrated Master Class on the Art of Organizing and Tidying Up. No excuse other than that I resist cleaning closets and organizing drawers -- until even I can’t stand the clutter and disorganization.

Even as a child, Daphne was more organized than me, scolding her stuffed animals when they failed to stay lined up on her bed, against the wall. So who was I to feel a tad hurt to hear her say, “Mom, you need a personal organizer”? The comment came after she and her family visited over Labor Day weekend.

“That’s because you have all your stuff here,” I replied with just a trace of irritation. True, the guest room and it’s adjoining closet the size of a small bedroom were filled with Daphne’s suitcases for a family of four, plus my enormous plastic tubs filled with guest linens and child protection gadgets for my grandkids, ages one and four.

As part of a corporate relocation package for my son-in-law, a professional organizer had come to Daphne’s home in Atlanta to help de-clutter before their move to the Silicon Valley. This served two purposes, making the house look a lot more spacious before it went on the market, and leaving fewer things to move. The cherry on the top of that cake was the organizer showing Daphne how to fold things, including the children’s clothing so that it would take up less drawer space and make it easier to find stuff in a hurry.

Lest you think I’m a complete slob, the record will reflect that when my husband Dennis and I moved into our condo nearly nine years ago, we paid thousands of dollars to have our many closets “done” by a professional closet designer. I’m just saying things would be a lot worse without those built in, wood shelves and drawers, plus rods both high and low.

So what was the impetus for my latest purging and de-cluttering exercise? Dennis and I spent Thanksgiving week in New York, and stayed on the Upper West Side, a shopper’s paradise. En route to one of the city’s great cultural institutions, I got sidetracked.

First I happened to notice that Bloomingdales opened a new outlet store on Broadway and 72nd Street. Within minutes I had added to my collection of J Brand and Paige skinny jeans. Back at home in Brookline, MA I still had room for my unwanted but not to be discarded boot cut jeans in that notorious guest room closet.

It’s the other purchases that caused me anxiety when I got home. At the Patagonia store on Amsterdam Avenue, I ordered my sixth down coat, a necessity for those of us choosing to brave New England winters. And at Harry’s Shoes on 82nd Street, I purchased my sixth pair of stylish, water proof boots.

“Give it to the cleaning people,” said my darling Dennis, a man with his own storage issues. “That seems so noblesse oblige,” I replied. “I don’t want to offend them.”

So I pulled two coats out of the backup coat closet off the guest room, and wrapped a beautiful, but never to be worn again, heavy wool bridge coat plus a black, down, LL Bean storm  that I hated the day it arrived. Those went into hanging garment bags that I was going to give to a charity a few miles from my home. Then I found a long red down coat that I loved until I didn’t. 

“Don’t throw it away,” said Dennis. “Somebody can use it.” In my mind, the coat needed a good washing I didn’t have time to do. 

As I headed out the door, I realized our husband/wife cleaners were cleaning the apartment next door to me. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” said the woman, as I told her I was planning to toss the red coat. 

Her response so overwhelmed me that I handed her the two nearly new coats, along with two barely worn pairs of Ferragamo and Mephisto shoes. “I have bad feet,” was an explanation I hoped she could accept.

Yesterday, this couple returned to clean our home. I wasn’t there, but Dennis said the woman looked so happy when she saw the Lucchese ostrich cowboy boots I’d desperately wanted, but never worked with my bunions -- along with pair of Merrill comfort clogs and Nike running shoes I’d worn just a few times.

“You should feel good about de-cluttering, not as though you were forced into it,” said Daphne, back in August. I now feel great about de-cluttering, even if I was forced into it.