Decluttering

Decluttering Is A Trap; Just Stop Buying Crap!

Instead of binging and purging, I’m keeping my old stuff

I know Marie Kondo says you should “release” your stuff. She’s made a fortune advising people to declutter.

I will make zero money advising you to do otherwise.

There’s a reason we are being encouraged to dump all our stuff:

They want us to throw away our things so we have room to replace everything with new stuff. It’s the household version of binging and purging, and it’s not a good way to live.

It stuffs our landfills, consumes energy and resources — and often entails taking advantage of exploited workers making cut-rate, low-quality stuff. This is especially true of clothing, but compare the craftsmanship and materials of my very old (reupholstered) sofa and a brand new one.

Capitalism can’t survive too many people like me. I simply don’t buy enough new crap.

This is a good time to think about buying less stuff.

Broken supply chains, looming world war, a pandemic that may spring back, inflation …. Maybe you’d like to think carefully about what you buy, and then … just … keep it. Until you die.

You’re allowed to like your stuff and it does not mean you’re materialistic. And you know what else? It’s completely OK to have a certain amount of clutter if you’re happy that way.

I’ve purged in the past and I bet I’m not the only one with regrets.

After a divorce 20 years ago, I downsized from a quad-level family home with a two-car garage, full basement and large tool shed to a much smaller house on one level with a carport and no shed. I had no choice but to get rid of lots of my belongings, and I convinced myself I was glad to lighten my life.

However, I have since re-purchased a great number of the things I purged. I maintain a list in my mind of things I “should” have that I gave away or sold but would like back, like my food dehydrator. I miss it enough that I’ll likely buy another one soon for all my culinary herbs.

And because my weight tends to go up and down, I regret all the clothing I’ve ditched, only to wish it back when my weight has fluctuated. I am done getting rid of good clothing just because it doesn’t fit me at the moment.

If history is my guide, I will wear that size again, and my favored wardrobe of basic black everything never goes out of style. “If you haven’t worn it in a year, throw it out” is really horrible advice for me.

I now live in a fixer-upper Victorian, meaning I have space for stuff. The Victorians loved their stuff. If you’d walked through a Victorian person’s home and recommended they purge their belongings, they’d have thought you were nuts.

I am not a fan of constantly buying stuff.

I am, however, a fan of most of the stuff I already have. A lot of it was hand-made or purchased second-hand, or at the very least was purchased new only after thinking about it for a while. I have original art, items purchased on visits to other countries, and things that belonged to deceased family members. Many of these things are connected to meaningful moments in my life.

These things anchor me.

I am never purging any of them.

My little granddaughter suspects I am secretly rich.

During her most recent visit, she asked how I can say I’m poor when I have so many treasures. She was referring to the fancy gold-rimmed miniature tea cups she and I have used for many tea parties. She is impressed by their real gold and their fanciful shapes.

She could scarcely believe me when I told her someone had thrown them in the trash. A friend saw them, still in the original boxes, and fished them out for me.

“Most people don’t like old things,” I told her. “They only want new stuff.”

She found it hard to believe, but I have the sorts of things I have mostly because nobody else wants them. Thus, the antique typewriter and marble-topped side table a newspaper I’d worked for was getting rid of, the wing chair I plucked from the neighbor’s trash, the oak church bench someone stuck on their front lawn with a “free” sign taped to it, the working antique brass microscope I bought for five bucks, the Victrola case we put a modern turntable inside, the many bookcases stuffed with old books, the kitchen table and cabinets my husband made by hand from repurposed materials … you get the idea.

It’s a bit cluttery in here, but in the best way — in my opinion, anyway, which is the only opinion that counts. I consider my house a carefully curated house. You can tell a lot about me just by walking through my house. The same is not true for some of the gray-walled spaces that look like all the decor was purchased from Target in one massive shopping trip.

Here’s what I do when I am tempted to buy something besides groceries: I envision it on a garage sale table, slightly used. Would I still want it if it weren’t shiny new and displayed to full advantage? Once you can see that item in your mind’s eye as it might look in a jumble of junk in a second-hand store, the magic marketing around it fades away and it’s almost always easy to walk away from it.

This trick has saved me a fortune through the years, but more importantly, it’s helped me ensure I only incorporate new belongings I truly value.

My other piece of advice would be to estimate what you paid for all the stuff you’re purging and think about what else you could have done with the money. Could you have vacationed in Europe? Invested for your retirement? Given it to the needy? Paid down your debt?

Buying stuff you’re only going to get rid of later will never make you happy. There’s an idea you can “release” right now.