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owlectomyThis was a mega-best-seller in Japan, so I was curious about it on that basis, as well as because I always need help cleaning.
This book has a lot of cute anecdotes and a very friendly style, but you can boil it down to a couple of main principles:
-Throw out everything except things you LOVE, things that make you really happy, things that make your heart beat faster when you touch them. Throw out about 2/3 to 3/4 of what you own.
-Don't throw things out a little at a time, because that will make you feel like you're not making any progress. Set aside some time to clean ALL THE THINGS, because once you've experienced what it's like to have all the things clean you will be so moved that you won't backslide.
-Once you've thrown away most of your possessions, it's really easy to find good storage spaces for all your stuff and take good care of it and put it back when you're done.
I started reading this all enamored with the vision of living in a clean space surrounded by only the things I really loved, and then... cracks started to appear in the foundation. Kondou works as a housecleaning consultant. She says that her clients have, on average, 160 shirts/sweaters/tops. A hundred and sixty? I know that I'm at the far end of the "I really hate clothes shopping, please let's just find something in a solid color that's likely to fit adequately and get out of here" bell curve, but I find it hard to imagine owning enough clothes that I could throw out 3/4 of them and still have enough to get from one laundry day to the next.
I think it takes a lot of economic privilege to suggest throwing out most of the stuff that you own. And to say, "Don't worry, you've got a lot of stuff! Even if you throw out everything that doesn't make you happy, you won't have a problem!" -- well. That may only be true of people rich enough to pay for a housecleaning consultant.
And while I agree with the general principle of spending more on a smaller number of things you really like, the reality of living is -- toilet brushes, electric cords, hair elastics, knitting needles, screwdrivers. It's a bit much to ask for True Love when it comes to all of those things. I do not love my Girl Shoes. I keep them around in case I have a sudden funeral or job interview. Finding shoes that I love that fit me well that are appropriate for funerals and job interviews is a good goal, but it's a long-term goal and I'm not going to go without Girl Shoes in the meantime.
That said, I feel like I'd already been partway converted to her philosophy just by moving six times in six years, though not in as drastic a way, and never so much so that I didn't have trouble putting back things and taking care of things!
But I got at least one thing of value from the book. (And possibly another; she suggests folding your shirts and then stacking them in your drawer like books so you can see them all at once, which is something I have never heard of before, though it's probably too fiddly for me.) She talks about how if there's something you can't bear to throw away, it's very likely because of anxiety about the future ("I might need that someday!") or attachment to the past ("I'm going to get back to that hobby soon, I promise!") and you have to confront that head-on. Not in the way I do, which is usually being so sick of my past self that I just want to ruthlessly get things out of my sight, but -- in a way that honors who you've been, even if you're not that person anymore.
I probably am never going to say "Thank you" to my shoes when I take them off, though.
This book has a lot of cute anecdotes and a very friendly style, but you can boil it down to a couple of main principles:
-Throw out everything except things you LOVE, things that make you really happy, things that make your heart beat faster when you touch them. Throw out about 2/3 to 3/4 of what you own.
-Don't throw things out a little at a time, because that will make you feel like you're not making any progress. Set aside some time to clean ALL THE THINGS, because once you've experienced what it's like to have all the things clean you will be so moved that you won't backslide.
-Once you've thrown away most of your possessions, it's really easy to find good storage spaces for all your stuff and take good care of it and put it back when you're done.
I started reading this all enamored with the vision of living in a clean space surrounded by only the things I really loved, and then... cracks started to appear in the foundation. Kondou works as a housecleaning consultant. She says that her clients have, on average, 160 shirts/sweaters/tops. A hundred and sixty? I know that I'm at the far end of the "I really hate clothes shopping, please let's just find something in a solid color that's likely to fit adequately and get out of here" bell curve, but I find it hard to imagine owning enough clothes that I could throw out 3/4 of them and still have enough to get from one laundry day to the next.
I think it takes a lot of economic privilege to suggest throwing out most of the stuff that you own. And to say, "Don't worry, you've got a lot of stuff! Even if you throw out everything that doesn't make you happy, you won't have a problem!" -- well. That may only be true of people rich enough to pay for a housecleaning consultant.
And while I agree with the general principle of spending more on a smaller number of things you really like, the reality of living is -- toilet brushes, electric cords, hair elastics, knitting needles, screwdrivers. It's a bit much to ask for True Love when it comes to all of those things. I do not love my Girl Shoes. I keep them around in case I have a sudden funeral or job interview. Finding shoes that I love that fit me well that are appropriate for funerals and job interviews is a good goal, but it's a long-term goal and I'm not going to go without Girl Shoes in the meantime.
That said, I feel like I'd already been partway converted to her philosophy just by moving six times in six years, though not in as drastic a way, and never so much so that I didn't have trouble putting back things and taking care of things!
But I got at least one thing of value from the book. (And possibly another; she suggests folding your shirts and then stacking them in your drawer like books so you can see them all at once, which is something I have never heard of before, though it's probably too fiddly for me.) She talks about how if there's something you can't bear to throw away, it's very likely because of anxiety about the future ("I might need that someday!") or attachment to the past ("I'm going to get back to that hobby soon, I promise!") and you have to confront that head-on. Not in the way I do, which is usually being so sick of my past self that I just want to ruthlessly get things out of my sight, but -- in a way that honors who you've been, even if you're not that person anymore.
I probably am never going to say "Thank you" to my shoes when I take them off, though.
(no subject)
4/5/12 22:14 (UTC)I think it's not just about having money but about having space and about Never Throwing Things Away. I am right now wearing a shirt from high school (20 years ago). It fits, is comfortable and is in perfect repair, so of course I'm not going to throw it away... but I have something like half a dozen shirts from high school that still fit, and a dozen more from my early 20s, etc etc etc. Things add up!