Trying to Minimise

        So when I go on holiday every year, I make a packing list. I jazz it up a bit, so I know exactly what I mean for future reference, ie. instead of writing ‘white vest’, I’ll write ‘white sheer vest’ as not to get it confused with ‘white daisy vest’. Anyway, just before my family holiday to Menorca last June I had the bright idea of making such a list with every single item of clothing I own. Deep down, I’d always wanted to make this list just because that’s the kinda gal I am, but now I sat down and actually did it. And as expected, I got bored halfway through. A million thoughts went through my head at this point:

·      how is it that I have so many clothes? when did this happen?

·      when did I last wear this? or this? or this?!

·      shit man that’s too many checked shirts for one girl

·      I don’t even like half this stuff, let alone wear it

·      why do I complain about having nothing to wear all the time? I will always have something to wear

·      I’m extremely privileged in this respect, and I am abusing my privilege only to complain about it

Alright that last one was an after-thought, but it did occur to me at some point.

       I’d heard about minimalism before and honestly hated the idea of it, or the way it is perceived in popular culture. All white walls and monochrome. That is 100% not me and knew it wasn’t going to happen, but I knew I couldn’t keep half the crap in my bedroom because it was clogging up both my physical and mental space. I went out and bought Spark Joy: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo (as well as the matching illustrated guide) and set out to rid my life of said crap. I read the first chapter, had a flick-through, understood the concept, decided only to use it only as inspo, and set to work.

       I started with my little chest of junk drawers and reduced it to one junk drawer. That was enough for a couple of months. Then I started on my clothing, as a whole, all of it. Over time I collectively either donated, passed on, or recycled a good six full bin bags of stuff. Then I moved onto the boxes under my bed, the boxes on top and underneath my wardrobe, my makeup collection, books, dvds, cds, sentimental stuff, stationery, notebooks, jewellery, bits of old toiletry sets, duplicates of anything, nail varnishes (who needs 73 pots of the stuff?), etc. etc. etc. Over the next six months I gained a lot of empty space and decided to completely re-arrange and re-decorate my room just before Christmas. It’s now what I imagined it would be, eight months into minimising. Pale pink walls, carefully selected art/photos in frames, no cluttered corkboards or memo boards, a clear windowsill, matching bedsheets, and no television on the wall with trailing wires.

     I’ve got a long way to go, mind you. My clothing collection still boasts 202 items as opposed to 243 last August, but this time I’ve included underwear, shoes, jackets and coats, hats, scarves, gloves, swimwear, pyjamas, gym gear, the works. And I can’t even remember the last time I went shopping.

       What I’m ultimately realising, is the freedom my bedroom now gives me. I am constantly driven towards self-improvement and I honestly believe my space is helping. I am inspired to read, write, letter, doodle, photoshop, constantly. It’s a feeling I think these guys explain pretty well.