Sept. 06--What I am about to suggest may shock you.
It runs counter to a near-universal way of thinking. It goes against exhortations in countless books and columns, including some I've written myself.
And yet I must speak out and give utterance to this heresy: Don't get rid of all that stuff you never wear in your closet.
No, put down that closet rod! Wait, come back! I can explain.
I know what you're thinking: What in the name of Marie Kondo can she be thinking?
How can anyone argue against a closet purge, that noble exercise that gets rid of wardrobe deadwood, cleans up the closet and imparts inner peace?
Could these be the ravings of closet purging failure? The pathetic rationalizations of someone who the other day tried to get rid of half a dozen cardigans, couldn't bring herself to do it, and ended up whimpering about how those are perfectly good sweaters and how I'm sure I'll wear them again someday?
OK, maybe.
But that doesn't mean that the gospel of the closet purge should go unchallenged. Put aside your copy of Kondo's "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up," and consider the thoughts I comforted myself with after my humiliating defeat at the hands of my closet.
What are the arguments against an all-out closet purge?
1. My short pink cotton jacket.
It was a beloved stalwart of my wardrobe for years. But time passed; my love faded; my husband pronounced it hideous; and so during a closet purge a few years ago, I donated it to charity.
You know how they say you'll never miss something you give away? Well, sometimes they're wrong.
I miss that jacket on a regular basis. It was the perfect antidote to summer air conditioning -- more summery and interesting than a sweater, and in a color that went with everything. Time and again I wish I had it back -- but I never will.
That jacket has plenty of purge-regretted company. I practically weep at the memory of my long-lost lace-up leather boots.
Sure, in a closet purge you're supposed to get rid only of things you don't truly love. But love is fickle. Who is to say you won't change your mind?
2. My wedding sandals.
If you haven't worn something for a year, the conventional wisdom goes, get rid of it; you'll never wear it again.
But consider the tale of the sandals I wore at my wedding.
They were plain white sandals with a low block heel. I kept them out of sentimentality, but didn't wear them.
Until this summer, when I came upon them in a closet.
Sandals with low block heels? This year they were the height, so to speak, of fashion.
I wore them with a cocktail dress to a wedding.
After not wearing them for 32 years.
3. Shopping your closet.
This time-honored strategy is a great way to get new, but not really, clothes.
But it only works if you have a closet so stuffed that you can't find things and you forget about them -- and then find them years later when you are shopping your closet.
That severely edited closet is not a place where you can someday find surprises. If you purge your closet, you can't shop it.
So are you convinced? Ready to give up your dream of a spare, orderly closet containing only a few adored items?
Me, either, really.
That lean closet still sounds like a calm-inducing ideal. But maybe we can find another kind of calm by relinquishing some of the fantasy and making peace with reality.
A severe closet purge may be an admirable goal, but there's no sin in falling short. Keeping some back-of-the-closet outliers is defensible, and sometimes even preferable.
Go ahead and "Kondo" your home, in the parlance of the fans of the Japanese de-cluttering expert, if you can.
But if you can't, credit yourself with extreme foresight. Look how shrewd you are -- you can see what you might want to wear in 32 years.
A Labor Day invitation
Are you grieving the end of summer? Are you sad at the close of the season of warmth and sun? Does Labor Day give you the party-is-over blues?
Join me in a strategy I announced in this space last Labor Day.
How to deal with the end of summer?
Deny that it's ending.
It's still warm out. The lakefront is still basking in beach weather. The cicadas are still singing.
Doesn't that sound like summer to you?
In fact, summer isn't actually over until Sept 23. Why let Labor Day tell you otherwise?
I decided last year to refuse to acknowledge the end of summer for at least a month past Labor Day -- longer if the weather plays along.
Join me in wringing every last moment out of the season. If you don't think of summer as over, it doesn't have to be. I'm holding on for every moment.
blbrotman@tribpub.com
