HOT MESS // Souvenirs

When I got the chance to visit a string of European cities at 20, I convinced myself that the best way to make the most of this privilege and opportunity was to get a memento from each and every place.

 This seemed simple and even a little romantic at first, but ultimately it started stressing me out. My flight out of Berlin was in a few hours but I hadn’t found my “thing.” (I was too busy eating all of the schnitzel.) Did I give up having the complete collection of my dreams? Did I just grab something random from the airport?

 The compulsion to retain something from our travels makes sense; we learn and grow from travel and we want that to carry over into our normal life. But what we really want is a memory. And objects can jog our memories, but only if they are connected to an experience or a place in a visceral way.

The shirt I impulse bought in Barcelona because “I needed to get something from Barcelona” ended up in the donation pile. I picked it up hoping to hold on to that expansive feeling of time and space so notable in those Spanish afternoons on the roof garden of my hostel. I mainly felt irritated because the sleeves were itchy.

On the other hand, the perfectly smooth stone I found combing the beach in Greece has come with me through three moves. Holding it reminds me of meeting an elderly couple who walk into the sea each morning in their water shoes and swim caps, hand in hand.

I’m willing to bet your novelty shot glass from the kitschy souvenir shop in the touristy part of town doesn’t call to mind how you felt when you first ordered a coffee in the local language, or paid in unfamiliar bills, or even just left your phone behind in the hotel room for a gloriously relaxing afternoon. Maybe there’s no object to hold that memory for you, or maybe it’s one you have to find rather than shop for.

 In his book The Art of Travel, Alain de Botton makes a poignant suggestion about our need to “possess” the beauty and expansiveness we experience when we travel.

 He suggests that we try to create art about our experience. Sketch a drawing, compose a small poem, create a snippet of melody. The act of synthesizing your travels and creating something of our own both deepens our memories and gives us something to do other than shop, purchase, consume.

 So on your next vacation, just say souve-no. (I know, I know, I’m sorry.) And when you return home, enjoy clutter-free memories.

HOT MESS // Dry Cleaner Bags

Do you have clothes stored in dry cleaner bags in your closet? Go take them out! Right now. Go ahead.

Seriously, go. I’ll wait.
 

Hello, again. Why am I on a crusade against dry cleaning bags? I’d love to say it’s about the island of plastic in the ocean, and yes, I do care a great deal about that. But it’s not even that noble. Dry cleaner bags are just bad. For your clothes. For your closet. For your routine.

If you dry clean things often enough, why not invest in a reusable bag? That can serve as storage for dirty clothes, a visual cue to head to the cleaners, an environmentally friendly alternative to all of that forsaken plastic, and an imperative to unpack your clothes right away.

When I was lazier about dry cleaner bags, my clothes suffocated in all that plastic, unable to vent off the dry cleaner chemicals, succumbing to humidity.

So much space in my closet was taken up by those bags, those padded hangers, those THANKS FOR YOUR BUSINESS paper wraps. Marie Kondo would call it “gomi,” or trash.

Those pieces were less accessible because of that one additional step to retrieval. And, sure, plastic is transparent, but I’m convinced humans are incapable of really, truly seeing an article of clothing smooshed inside a dry cleaner bag. 

If I’ve dry cleaned an item, it’s because I’ve actually worn it. If I love it enough to wear it, bring it to a dry cleaner, pay for the service, and bring it home a few days later, why oh why stop short of taking it out of the bag?!?! What is one more step in the process of properly caring for my possessions and streamlining my space?

 So nowadays, I follow the one-minute rule and take the clothes out of dry cleaners bag immediately.

And I think very hard about acquiring a dry-clean only item. I make plenty of shopping (and career) decisions based on maintaining my majority machine washable wardrobe. No shame in that game.

HOT MESS // Water for Cotton

When I was in the market for a home, I never once thought to myself: “Hey, I should build myself a brand new home.”

Why not? Well, because there were literally dozens of perfectly good, "used" homes in the neighborhood where I wanted to live, and to start a home from scratch would seem like a huge waste of resources.

Why then, when I’m in the market for other things, is my first impulse to buy brand new?

When I need a t-shirt,  why don’t I automatically assume I'll buy a pre-owned shirt from the huge pool of perfectly good existing shirts? Why don’t I automatically consider the waste of resources involved in starting a shirt from scratch? Why don’t I balk at the three years worth of drinking water that’s consumed in producing ONE COTTON T-SHIRT?

Because I get caught thinking that buying new is cheap, easy, and expected. I’m working to combat that.

Let’s start with cheap. A t-shirt at Target typically costs under $20. That’s relatively little expense to me. But that cheap shirt is more likely to fade, fray, or hang funny after a couple of washings, meaning I’ll have to replace it, incurring more cost.

Besides, that t-shirt, and the one I have to buy after it craps out, is only cheap to me because I’m not the one paying the costs. Target (or Walmart, or Amazon, or Old Navy, or whichever fast fashion store you choose) externalizes those costs to other people, or to the planet.

And a quality t-shirt from a consignment, used, or vintage clothing store would likely cost me even less.

How about easy? Yes, frankly, buying brand new is very easy. Too easy! How else could fast fashion generate $250 billion in the United States annually? These companies want to make it very, very easy for us to become separated from our money. We should be suspicious of how convenient shopping is, again looking for ways that we all pay the price for our convenience.

And a quality t-shirt from a consignment, used, or vintage clothing store would be just as easy to purchase. Many boutiques even sell online.

So finally, let’s take a look at expected. It’s all too normal to assume that brand new is the default for our clothing needs. Even when we want a vintage look, we often opt for new.  Looking at you, Urban Outfitters. 

Why don’t we consider used clothes the way we consider used houses? I think it’s because the costs of newness seem so much less, but we all consume many, many more t-shirts over our lifetime than we do houses AND so many of those costs are externalized. What if we brought those costs to the front of our mind when making the decision of where to shop?

Now I’m not about to suggest that we all buy used underwear in the name of sustainability.

But when I go to pick up the black jeans that are currently on my shopping list, I’m going to opt for a perfectly good, previously loved pair rather than the “cheap, easy, and expected” brand new version.

And I will care for them well, the same way I’ll clean the gutters and maintain the HVAC system of my home, with the sense that someday, another owner will meet her needs by dipping in to the existing pool of goods rather than starting from scratch. 

HOT MESS // Spare Yourself the Spare Change.

Marie Kondo has a rule about coins: they belong in your wallet.

Not a jar, not a bowl, not a piggy bank. Your wallet, exclusively.

I resisted this at first because I liked the thrill of dumping a huge jar into a Coinstar machine, eagerly awaiting the total. It felt like I was getting free money, because a coin or two seemed worthless but by amassing hundreds of these little metal disks I could get triple digit dollars!

But sure enough, I’ve come around to the Konmari view of coins. Here’s why:
 

1. Storing coins somewhere in my home means I have to store coins somewhere in my home. I need to have a container, and that container needs to live somewhere, either in prime real estate that should be dedicated to something else or, heaven forbid, on a surface.

2. Schlepping coins to a Coinstar feels like a chore. The jar is heavy, the machine takes a while, and I find I always have to re-feed perfectly good legal coins into it after they’ve been initially rejected. Plus, if someone is waiting behind me I’m filled with the same anxiety that befalls me when I'm trying to parallel park in front of a line of cars. I’d rather spend that time looking at the houseplants on offer. (But not buying any, because houseplants are currently on my NOPping list.)

3. Coinstar takes a cut unless you redeem your coins in the form of a gift card. But the only option for a gift card is currently Amazon, which I’m trying to avoid in favor of supporting local and independently owned businesses. (For what it’s worth, Coinstar also allows you to donate money to several charities)

4. Coins are not free money. Treating them like they just fell from the sky leads me to spend irrationally. Coinstar and retailers that install the machines bank on this. From the Coinstar website: “Research shows consumers make special trips to visit retailers with a self-service coin-counting solution, and 79% of consumers who cash in a Coinstar voucher spend more than half the cash they received on in-store purchases.” How many of those in-store purchases were impulse buys not on the Shopping List?  I shouldn’t go spend “Coinstar cash” on some fancy gelato and “cash cash” on ingredients for actual meals. In reality, coins are just fractions of dollars that I’ve worked hard to earn. I should value them as such, budget them as such, spend, save, and invest them as such, and store them with my other money.

So, coins live in my wallet now. I budget them like I do my other real money, using my cash account set up in YNAB. I leave handfuls of them in tip jars. I overfeed parking meters so I feel less rushed having a meal at a restaurant or running errands. I spend them at independent stores whenever possible. I basically try to align my coin spending with my values the same way I try to align my cash or card spending with my values, because any distinction only ever existed in my perception. (And because handing over exact change feels so satisfying.)

If you have a container collecting coins (and dust) in your home, head to the Coinstar machine one last time, let Coinstar take their cut for their services, cash out, and head to a local and independent boutique to pick up a lovely wallet with a zippered coin pouch. (Or if you already have a great wallet, use it to pay your water bill.)

Then recycle the coin container for good.

HOT MESS // Cords

The Ancient Greeks had Hydra, the nine-headed monster who would sprout two heads each time one was cut off.

Us Modern Americans have cords, which multiply in the dark corners of boxes, bags, or heaven forbid, entire drawers.

So, how should you organize it?

You shouldn’t. Get rid of it all.

The cords you need, use, and want to keep are not in that bag, or you would have realized it when that essential device you use all the time went dead.

There is nothing in that bag but a tangle of orphan cords, whose parent devices have probably long been updated. Heck, those broken or outdated devices are probably there in the bag, too.

If you get a phone, a tablet, a laptop, a camera, whatever, store the cords in one place. Label them with a piece of masking tape if you want, but if you’re actually using the cords often because you’re using the devices often, you’ll likely know the cords by sight.

And take that entire bag of cords to be recycled.

HOT MESS // Instagramitis

If I had my druthers, everyone would detox from visually saturated social media indefinitely.

We all know comparison is the thief of joy. We know that all of those staged and filtered pictures are BS.

And yet we scroll and heart and pin and like ourselves into a stupor. Our expectations of what a life looks like, let alone what a house looks like, devolve into fantasy. No sane person has a fridge that has one entire shelf dedicated just to San Pellegrino and another to fresh cut flowers. She’s too busy using her refrigerator for, you know, food.

The "fresh cut flowers and sparkling water fridge" only happens in photos in which San Pellegrino paid some absurd sum of money to manufacture that image. Or, perhaps even more disturbingly, when a typical person arranges, photographs, edits, and posts that picture as part of an elaborate performance of identity.

Either way, it’s inauthentic.

Either way, it should not be the goal of getting organized and decluttering.

Your home should look and feel like your home.

Sure, let’s make it look visually pleasing and even beautiful. But first let’s make it functional, and beneficial to the people living there. And perhaps most importantly, let’s avoid purchasing new things in the pursuit of a bland and lifeless perfection that will shift with changing trends or marketing schemes. 

Life should happen in your home, and that life should be apparent, not picture perfect. 

HOT MESS // Gear

We should all have something to do that is creative, enjoyable, and connects us to a community outside of our home and our workplace.

However, we too often confuse owning gear with having hobbies.

Let’s take a common example. You want to get into yoga. You want to get in shape, be among like-minded people, improve your physical and mental flexibility, and take time for self-care. Great! Where do you start?

You probably buy a mat. Then you get a special tote bag that can hold the mat. Next you go out and buy new leggings, tops, sports bras, headbands, and slip on sandals that would make you look like a yogi. Now your internet cookies are telling Amazon to show you other assorted yoga gear, and you buy some blocks, and maybe even a blanket and some straps.You figure you might as well get a new water bottle, too. Into the cart it goes.

You have all of this equipment now, so you’ll definitely get really into yoga, right?

Unlikely.

If you’re anything like most people, that equipment will collect dust in a closet while you remain “too busy” to actually do yoga. You think that the expenditure of money will spur you into using all that gear, but it won’t. You’ll feel guilty and frazzled looking at all that expensive unused gear, and you might actually avoid the gear to avoid feelings of disappointment that you haven’t become the person you hoped you would yet.

You only do an activity by actually doing that activity. And for that, you don’t need to buy and store gear. You need to schedule and protect TIME.

If you want to get into something, or renew your commitment to something, make the time, get it on the schedule, and then do it with what you already have. Or you can borrow or rent the gear as you’re establishing your hobby habit.

Get into the routine of doing your activity of choice first to ensure that making room in your budget and home for gear of your own is something you’ll actually benefit from.

You may borrow a mat, blocks, straps, etc. at the yoga studio, and wear the comfortable clothes you already own. (You and I both know you already own the pajamas-in-public we call yoga pants.)

You can take great photos in the golden hour each evening with your smartphone before upgrading to a DSLR. You can get into the routine of sketching each morning with a standard issue no.2 pencil before upgrading to that set of charcoal pencils.

Once your hobby time is on a recurring schedule and your routine is established, integrating the gear will be be simple and seamless. Then, and only then,  should you purchase the gear.

But only if you write it on your shopping list first.

HOT MESS// Target Dollar Spot

Target Dollar Spot is the greatest masterpiece of some evil marketing genius. It's positioned RIGHT when you walk in the store so you can't help but pass by it. It is cheap, so so so cheap, that the dopamine floods your brain at the sight of all these "steals." And it's seasonal and ever-changing, so you feel just a little bit panicky on missing out on a great find. Visibility, urgency, a feeling of getting something for nothing = a trifecta of manipulation trying to separate you from your money.

But Dollar Spot items are typically the first to get the axe when a person purges. These objects are almost always impulse buys so they don’t fill a true need or serve a true purpose in the home. They are poorly made from low quality materials so they’re damaged easily. They are trendy and highly stylized, so they look dated and frivolous quickly.

They are rarely treasured, and frequently discarded.

I’m a reformed Target Dollar Spot shopper myself before becoming absolutely insistent on sticking to The Shopping List. Never have I ever written “novelty ice cube tray” on my shopping list, so once I built up that list-following muscle, my dollar spot purchases were eliminated.

Next time you’re in Target (or any other retailer that combines visibility, low prices, and FOMO to separate you from your money), try these baby steps:

Set a timer for 3 minutes. You may walk through the dollar spot for these 3 minutes. Touch nothing.  Seriously. Hands in your pockets or folded behind your back the whole time. Don’t check the price, don’t look for other styles or colors, don’t lay on finger on anything.

I'm a firm believer that the moment you touch something, you subconsciously feel a tiny sense of ownership over it, and you're more likely to go ahead and make that ownership official with a swipe of the card.  

When your timer goes off, you must leave the dollar spot. No exceptions.

Did you see something that could satisfy a need? Unlikely. But let’s indulge you for a moment here, and say you spotted something that would solve a problem in your home or life. (No, having rectangular ice cubes is not a problem.) Take out your Shopping List and write the item at the bottom. Then go on with your intended shopping.

If you'd like to return to purchase a selected item from the dollar spot, you may do so only after completing your other shopping.

Chances are great that you will forget to do so, or return with more objective eyes that can see that those items are not worth it now that you actually have a cart full of needful things that you actually intended to purchase.

Make that impulse buy less impulsive by requiring you wait until the intended shopping is done, and make the trek back to the dollar spot. Those two tiny obstacles of time and effort will likely diminish your “need” for the object, and you can delete/cross off the item as if you had never even written it down and get the heck out of there.

Mastered those baby steps? Great. Now, up the ante. Do not enter the dollar spot. I repeat, do not enter the dollar spot. You know everything in there is cheaply made crap, the likes of which succumbed to a big black garbage bag when you last did a purge. You know you made your list well before your trip to the store, and before you were under the influence of these sly marketing tactics. Stick to your list and keep it moving. Leave the store with more money in your bank account and less junk coming in to your home.

Remember, today’s impulse buy is tomorrow’s clutter.

HOT MESS // Smug Shopping

I'm all about voting with your dollar. I avoid shopping at stores or buying brands that are associated with policies or political opinions I find problematic, and I will continue to do so.  

The flipside of that for me, however, started to become an unhealthy and unproductive over-identification with stores and brands I do feel comfortable supporting. I was excusing myself from making needless purchases because the brand donates to charity, or because the store gives its employees fair pay.

I was excusing impulse buys at Michaels by telling myself that at least they don't bar their employees from collective bargaining or deny female employees full insurance coverage like Hobby Lobby, when in reality I don't need another sketchbook. I was scrolling through the REI website for nothing in particular because they minimize their participation in Black Friday madness. In reality, I don't need to go shopping at ANY outdoor equipment retailer for ANY outdoor equipment because, truly, how many headlamps does one woman need? (Answer: one per head.)

So what if TOMS gives away of pair of shoes for every pair purchased? YOU still don't need another pair of shoes. So what if Newman's Own donates all of its profits to worthy causes? YOU still have three bottles of salad dressing in your fridge. Justifying a purchase because it's more socially conscious or sustainable than some alternative purchase is a slippery slope towards smug and self-congratulatory excessive consumption. Let's not kid ourselves; none of us are saving the world with our purchases.

If you need something, and you wrote it on your list, and you've waited the appropriate amount of time, then yes, purchase it. Support your local economy at a great store that treats its employees fairly. Choose brands that take responsibility for their environmental and social impact. Try very hard not to make the world worse. Vote with your dollar.

But remember: Voting with your dollar is not ACTUALLY VOTING, which we should all be doing frequently and enthusiastically. And more often than not, buying nothing is often the best choice we can make.*

*Unless it's fresh lemonade from kind and entrepreneurial children. In that case, buying nothing probably makes us jerks.