Dear Fiona,
My husband and I move house regularly, both domestically and internationally, on account of my job. This wouldn’t be an issue, but for the amount of stuff that we own and take with us, that sometimes (often) doesn’t even get unpacked between moves. We’re currently down one bedroom because of it, meaning two of our four children are having to share a room. I’ve got Marie Kondo’s book, my mother has offered to pay for a household organiser, and I know that there are even programmes telling me what to do - but none of it seems particularly relevant to me, and actually I find the whole idea of de-cluttering kind of aggressive – in so much as I feel it is ever being pushed on me by society and the media. Also, I don’t necessarily aspire to a larder of neatly labelled mason jars.
And, importantly, I don’t really want to get rid of the stuff, which includes photos and books and china, and old school reports and teenage sporting trophies and art projects that our children have done and my A Level weaving and the clothes that I wore in my twenties and the clothes that my children wore when they were little that I want to keep for their children, and my wedding dress, and my mother’s wedding dress. There are schoolbooks containing poems and stories and drawings, and old bits of family silver and quilts and samplers made by my grandmother and great aunts. Then there are two whole boxes devoted to little animals and other things that my father-in-law carved – which are lovely, but amateur, if you know what I mean.
The point is that most of it really isn’t replaceable – and one day, when we’ve stopped moving, we will be able to unpack it. So do we just keep shipping it between addresses? Or do I hire a storage unit? Is there another option? Because, actually, I am beginning to find its existence a bit exhausting. We can’t put it all in a parents’ attic, as my husband’s parents are both dead, and my parents have downsized into a retirement home (this is one of the reasons we have so much stuff.)
All ideas are welcome – for I know that House & Garden often features people who have a lot of stuff - and thank you.
Sincerely,
An inadvertent hoarder XX
Dear Inadvertent Hoarder,
Straight off, congratulations on not allowing the all-pervasive decluttering movement to become the architect of your intentions. For yes, it does seem to have reached a stage of near fetishisation. Military terminology is employed – “the battle against belongings” – and, for many, a forced paucity of stuff has become highly aspirational. Like you, I can’t help finding it a little off-putting – can you picture what the Sir John Soane Museum might look like if he’d been told he had to adhere to a strict ‘one in, one out’ policy? Or the loss we would have suffered, in terms of Renaissance art, had ‘travelling lightly through life’ been suggested to the Medicis? Fast forward to now, and just imagine if the surfaces were kept ‘nice and clear’ in the homes of Alexandra Tolstoy, or Benedict Foley and Daniel Slowik, or George Saumarez Smith, or James Mackie – or any other of the maximalist collectors that this magazine features?
However, a couple of salient points. Firstly, the trend for decluttering is more nuanced than it might initially seem, and – contrary to appearance – much of it stems from an attempt to curtail the practices of a throwaway society. The subtext of the instruction to streamline is an entreaty to live with less, to stop buying cheap clothes, plastic table decorations, and unnecessary kitchen appliances – so, in a sense, you are right: it isn’t applicable to you. However, alongside is genuine research; a study at Princeton University found that decluttering your living space helps your brain focus, and that organised environments lead to a sharp, productive and concentrated mind. And herein is my second point: Sir John Soane, the Medicis, Alexandra Tolstoy, Benedict Foley etc. – they had or have the necessary space. The organisation of the Sir John Soane Museum might seem crowded and slightly chaotic, but actually, it’s exactly as it was arranged by Soane, with objects carefully placed that their qualities might be exalted through creative and inspiring juxtapositions. Similarly, both Alexandra and Benedict regularly rearrange their mantlepieces and other displays, which is why their interiors appear so charming.
The crucial thing to remember about stuff is that is meant to enhance our lives; if it isn’t – and, if you’re currently a bedroom down and finding it exhausting, it doesn’t sound like yours is – there is a problem.
But, fear not, I’m not going to tell you that you need to get rid of it. Nor am I going to suggest a storage unit as a long-term solution, for the simple reason that they’re expensive, and they can all too easily become dumping grounds whose content far exceeds the possibilities of any home you might one day inhabit. (I used to have a corner of a warehouse. I moved from a two-bedroom flat to a seven-bedroom house and still didn’t empty that warehouse, until recently.) Instead, there exists a more interesting solution, which will not only allow you to keep the treasure that you hold so dear, but will also have a beneficial effect on your interiors now – even as you move from house to house. You can do this alone, though I would suggest accepting your mother’s offer of a home organiser. A good one – and I can recommend Susanna Hammond of Sorted Living (who has worked with Alexandra Tolstoy, among others) and Sarah Greig of Edit by Sarah Greig (who has worked with Sarah Vanrenen, among others) - is not going to label non-existent mason jars, but will assist with the leg-work for the solution I’m suggesting; namely, integrate, and archive.
This two-fold fix necessitates a two-fold approach, and the first thing to do is to work out which items falls into which category, and then, address them, starting with archiving. First – photographs, which Susanna points out are the equivalent of low hanging fruit. Digitalise them, back them up, back them up again, and then, if you want to, have them organised into albums. Next, clothes; “it is so lovely to be able to produce a dress that your daughter wore to her first birthday party, at the moment that she is wondering what her child will wear to their first birthday party – but to be able to do that, you’ve got to have imposed order,” points out Susanna. “Everything needs to be washed, vacuum packed – and listed on an inventory that you keep on your computer.” (Quick aside: you don’t need to keep everything, tights and cotton vests are replaceable. I’m not suggesting that you throw them away – wait for further instruction!) Wedding dresses, meanwhile, need to be taken to a specialist dry cleaner; Jeeves of Belgravia will do it. Finally, regarding children’s schoolwork, sporting trophies and art projects, Sarah would allocate a box per child, “and every time the box is full, review it, and edit. You might realise that while English books and art books are lovely to keep, maths books slightly lose their allure down the line.” If art projects are big, but perhaps not display worthy, you can photograph them.
And then you just have to store everything – perhaps in a trunk or ottoman that can double as a coffee table, or in the wardrobe of a guest bedroom, or, if you’ve got one, in the attic. Key is that your archive isn’t a burden, but something that is enjoyable to go through from time to time - your family’s version of the Sir John Soane Museum - “so wrap stuff in pretty paper and make sure that the boxes are beautiful,” says Susanna.
And now, integration, i.e. living with these treasures you’ve been guarding, and enjoying them and allowing them - the china and the silver - to elevate every ordinary day, even if you have previously designated them too precious to use. Put the quilts on beds – or hang them on walls. Frame the samplers, and hang them too. And find a means of displaying those carvings, while remembering the wise words of Emma Burns of Sibyl Colefax & John Fowler: “a collection of anything can become interesting, you just need enough to make an impact,” (you definitely have enough.) All these things can become part of your peripatetic existence, helping to create a home that is both layered, and intensely personal, whichever country you might be in.
I concede, at this point, that in bringing these items out of storage you may find yourself with too much stuff – which is why it was packed away to start with. Susanna cleverly identifies the potential for bequeathing gifts to family members – whether a silver toast rack for a wedding or a napkin ring for a Christening – that have a far greater depth of meaning than anything you could buy. (The carvings meanwhile, would make wonderful birthday and Christmas presents for your children.)
And then, finally, I am going to suggest you perform a mild edit – though not of your treasures, but rather, of the objects that your treasures are now replacing. The not-silver sugar bowl, the fourth-best candlesticks, the plain china that is superfluous now that you’re using the vintage Wedgwood that was just sitting in a succession of boxes. Chances are, that they (and the tights and cotton vests of earlier) are going to be needed and wanted by somebody else. A recent survey found that 77% of the population want to shop second hand – how amazing is that? The thing is that only 27% of the population do, and that’s partly down to availability. “It’s important that we share lovely things with others when we’ve had our enjoyment of them,” says Benedict Foley. “I’ve always been quite strict about letting things go on to a new home if I’m not making good use of them.”
It’s not decluttering so much as it’s enabling stuff to do what’s it’s meant to do – which is perform a service. What’s more, even if you won’t exactly be travelling lightly from now on, you will – as Alexandra Tolstoy describes her circumstances – be “travelling pruned.”
I hope that this helps – and that you get that bedroom back.
Love,
Fiona XX
Have a burning interiors question in need of answering? Write to Fiona at agonyaunt.houseandgarden@condenast.co.uk.
