Hello, Viewers!
Don’t you wish you had a walk-in
closet? I have one, and I’m telling you, it’s not all fun and games.
I could kick myself for not
having taken a “Before” picture; so imagine, if you will, a walk-in closet on
the brink of a nervous breakdown. The physical breakdown had been progressing
for years. Serving as a wardrobe, linen closet, and catch-all for who knows
what, my closet had become almost impenetrable. Finding an item of clothing
could take endless, crucially important, minutes on my way to work in the
morning; many things were indeed never found. Some items could be glimpsed, but
barely reached – others had become forgotten, having remained invisible for
months or years. Everything was balled-up, stuffed and shoved, squeezed and
wrinkled. Countless giant blue IKEA bags jostled with worn-out shoes and
once-worn sweaters on the floor, often managing to trap me, and almost trip me,
with their long, slinky handles. Empty boxes, broken hangers, pieces of string
and a vicious gang of dust bunnies had risen to power. The amount of what we
home decorators call “stuff” was mind-boggling and paralyzing. The door could
not close. A shudder and a quick escape had become the daily routine. As for hanging up clothes in the evening - don't make me laugh! Dejected and defiant, I would stand at the threshold and toss my things into the writhing inferno.
Not being of the clinically
insane persuasion, I had obviously made attempts over the years to tame the
chaos, but my approach was never drastic enough. I would stand in the middle of
the closet, surrounded by the overflow, and try to whip it into shape. Some superficial
order would be achieved, but within days, a week at most, anarchy would begin
to assert itself again.
So, after much soul-searching and
much agony, but finally propelled by a force greater and stronger than myself, I
resolved to solve the problem once and – for all? Embarrassing as it was, I had
to enlist the assistance of my cleaning lady – the place must be entirely evacuated. Together, we
pulled and dragged and lugged everything out of there, my embarrassment increasing
by the minute; the stuff filled up the entire bedroom. When the closet was
literally voided of every removable object, she washed down shelves and floor –
and then the real fun began. After two hours, she “conveniently” had to leave. I don’t
blame her. It took me three weeks to go through every single item and either
restore it to its rightful – sometimes reconfigured – place, or discard it – for
the garbage can, or for donation. Bag after bag was triumphantly carried out of
my apartment; a few things were brought down to the basement; some relocated
within the apartment, to more appropriate spots.
Relentless (who am I kidding?) weeding
of garments yielded space for a new drawer unit – it consisted of two 3-drawer
units from the Container Store, that I reconfigured into one 5-drawer piece in
order to use every available vertical inch. This unit now – finally – houses all
my shells and T-shirts (which are the staple of my daily toilette), in addition to some other odds and ends. I already had
another drawer unit, that holds lingerie and hosiery, and many very odd ends.
Now, with one drawer assigned to each type of shell – long-sleeved, ¾-sleeved, etc. – I no longer have to worry about my failure to fold. Gathered in closed drawers they all present a neat front, and I can quickly find exactly the type of shell I need. Nifty, no? It may sound like a small feat, but I cannot adequately express the daily feeling of relief I’m experiencing!
Bins for Shoes is another of my little innovations. Perish the hanging, compartmentalized shoe organizers; away with the Polaroid-encrusted cardboard boxes; farewell to the stackable shoe racks – hello, bins! One for boots and walking shoes, one for slippers and sandals, one for normal, nice shoes. Believe me – it’s good enough! I am so fed up with the contemporary trend of shoe pampering. It’s like shoes are the new babies. Or at least poodles.
In a moment of weakness, coupled
with unsound ambition, I bought a few clear shoe storage boxes some years ago,
before I had seen the light (see above). Since I already have them, I use them for the very
few, rarefied shoes I own, but I really don’t see the need. Unless your shoes
are entirely made of satin and velvet (and how many are?) a bin is perfectly
fine. We are not all called Carrie Bradshaw.
A few shelves had to be reserved for linens, but many a threadbare towel and tired pillowcase were made to join the big Rag Bag in the Sky. The remaining items are those that I like – and actually use.
My various fairy wings needed their perch, of course (on top of a box of Fairy Paraphernalia), as did handbags (on two shelves above the shoe bins), jewelry and of course, my feather boas. I realize that feather boa storage is not a big issue for most people, but if you are like me – here is a great tip: I hung them all over the crossbar of a velvet hanger (to prevent slippage), then enclosed the entire thing in a zippered garment bag. This way, they are easy to get to, and I don’t have shedding feathers all over the place.
While I am on the topic of velvet
hangers: they take up less space than conventional hangers, and even the
slinkiest negligée stays put. I hereby offer my whole-hearted endorsement! If you
haven’t tried them, by all means do – I have found them to be a great boon.
Another tremendous boon is Zip-lock bags, as you can see below. I use them to corral like items with like, or just to prevent things from slipping around all over the place.
As for jewelry – I have amassed quite a lot over the decades. Don’t be envious; it is all fake. Well, I mean, it is all real costume jewelry, of course, just not “real” materials. I have had some of it since I was fourteen. Younger, in fact. Drawers, baskets, S-hooks – and a rickety, revolving rack that I found once at the curbside, are what I employ to organize by color and function. Some of it is entirely for masquerade purposes. I am very much into masquerading; I dress up as myself. It is a fabulous disguise.
As for jewelry – I have amassed quite a lot over the decades. Don’t be envious; it is all fake. Well, I mean, it is all real costume jewelry, of course, just not “real” materials. I have had some of it since I was fourteen. Younger, in fact. Drawers, baskets, S-hooks – and a rickety, revolving rack that I found once at the curbside, are what I employ to organize by color and function. Some of it is entirely for masquerade purposes. I am very much into masquerading; I dress up as myself. It is a fabulous disguise.
So – it was a great day when I was
finally able to enter my closet without crying. Everything was neat and organized,
the useless removed, and a calm logic reigned for the first time in twelve
years. Getting dressed in the morning was no longer an agony.
THEN came the unguarded moment in
which I drifted into a HomeGoods store and found The Ultimate Stool. It is pink
(what else?!), upholstered in a damask-patterned velvet, vaguely oriental in its shape and outlined with a nail head trim, and it has storage space inside! Now I
have little spot to sit while I put on my shoes (as I retrieve them from their
bin), or while pondering the correct number and combination of accessories. It is
a pleasure!
Unfortunately, as I am sitting here, I have come to pay more attention to the irreparably worn and damaged
linoleum floor with its countless paint splotches, and the sadly defunct overhead
light fixture – and I feel that something must be done…
Hopefully, there will
be an update to follow.
Finally, below, an overview...
Finally, below, an overview...
Regards from Rosebud!
