I woke up this weekend with the overwhelming feeling that my surroundings needed to change. I promised myself 2010 is the year of growing up, and I couldn’t help but feel my own space needed an update.
Spending so much time on the go, I became an expert with the concept of travelling light. My rooms overseas were usually uninspiring (one notch above septic)– bare walls, empty shelves, and clothes packed away in neat little piles. There was never much to spare, and a thorough tidy rarely took more than ten minutes.
Coming home has always been an assault on my senses. Suddenly there are 23 years of history to contend with – most of which is stuffed in boxes perched on the dangerously unstable shelves in my already bloated closet. I cope by spending as little time as possible in my own room, and my little square of basement real-estate has since been the place where I sleep and not much more.
But this weekend was different. I decided it was time to tackle the clutter. With my sister and design sponge as my guide, I spent four hours shifting accessories, moving collectables, and purging my closet of the colour-worn sweaters and moth-eaten tees. I threw away the old movie stubs, Christmas cards, museum guides, plane tickets, and even a winning roll up the rim collar from six or seven years ago. Visitors now welcome.