Not very far into her book, “The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” Japanese cleaning guru Marie Kondo describes what she does with all her spare moments now that her home (and, by extension, her life) are perfectly organized. “I have time to experience bliss in my quiet space, where even the air feels fresh and clean; time to sit and sip herbal tea while I reflect on my day.”
If it was not clear before, Marie Kondo does not have children.
Now, I don’t mean to argue with success. Kondo’s book has sold 2 million copies worldwide and developed a bit of a cult-like following.
What are Kondo’s secrets? Perfectly sensible advice. Get rid of the stuff you don’t need. Go through all your belongings at once — not one room at a time. Throw out everything that doesn’t bring you joy before you start organizing. Go through things by category so you don’t keep duplicates in different places. She promises that if you follow her advice that not only will your home be transformed, but your life will, too.
And Kondo is not alone. There are many who see clutter as a reflection of your character. Clean house, clean mind.
When food and clothing and toys are all relatively cheap, our biggest issue is in getting rid of them.
In a commencement speech last year at the University of Texas, Navy Adm. William H. McCraven told the graduates to make their beds each morning: “It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task, and another, and another. . . . Making your bed will also reinforce the fact that the little things in life matter. If you can’t do the little things right, you’ll never be able to do the big things right.”
It’s a tempting theory — that your outer life somehow reflects and affects your inner one — but I don’t know what the evidence is for it. Many experts would say the first things you should accomplish in the day are the ones you need the most willpower for — creating Excel spreadsheets or going to the gym, not tucking in your sheets.
I enjoy watching a good home makeover show as much as the next person. It provides catharsis to see boxes of junk being hauled out of someone else’s house.
But tidiness has become a kind of fetish for a certain segment of the American population. There are people out there who caress bare countertops as if they are bare something else. They are the ones who love the Container Store, who wile away the hours browsing Real Simple magazine, who hire closet consultants. They are childless, often single, living in major metropolitan areas, without much space but with plenty of disposable income.
I hear these women, and they are mostly women, talking about throwing out stuff with more pride than my grandmother, who lived through the Depression, used to talk about saving stuff. And perhaps this is all just a reaction to living in flush economic times. When food and clothing and toys are all relatively cheap, our biggest issue is in getting rid of them.
When young couples appear on “House Hunters,” they go on endlessly about wanting a house with “clean lines,” not realizing that once they have children they won’t be able to find those lines
anymore.
It’s not that I let my children keep every piece of plastic that comes home in a goody bag. It’s that children like stuff. A few years ago my daughter asked me to start saving old yogurt containers because she wanted to “make a project.” It is hard to throw out a cardboard box in our house because of their potential as vehicles or dioramas or large hats that don’t allow you to see where you’re going.
Kids broken toys, puzzles missing a piece, refrigerator art — it creates clutter, I know. It’s not just that I can’t bear to part with my 2-year-old’s paintings. It’s also that I know if she happens to run across it in a pile next month, she will color on it all over again and tell me it is something new. Having odd assortments of things around feeds kids’ sense of serendipity.
Maybe I can’t sit back and sip herbal tea while I reflect on my day, but there’s something to be said for the house-wide treasure hunt.
There’s a long road between clutterless and hoarder. It’s called “lived-in,” and it’s where most Americans comfortably, and happily, reside.
Even without kids, one need not believe that a clean house or desk is necessary, says Laura Vanderkam, author of “What the Most Successful People Do Before Breakfast.”
“You can be a happy and successful person and still have a multitude of mismatched mugs . . . You can read a book even if the toys aren’t picked up and there are dishes in the sink,” she says.
“I know this seems crazy, but your cupboards need not be a metaphor for life.”