For What It’s Worth – Minimalism

Ian and I have been binge watching YouTube videos #vanlyfe #tinyhomeliving

Yes. Those ones. The ones depicting gorgeous little spaces, most on wheels, where an entire life can be lived in a clever space barely bigger than a bed that is sustainable and mobile and decked out in boho chic. There is always good coffee. The spaces that can, apparently, be fitted out by anyone with the passion to do so as long as you watch ‘how to’ videos on YouTube and then wield a hammer, saw and electrical wires to magically create the space of their dreams. The plans are all available for a small price. On YouTube.

Anyone who knows me (and Ian) will agree that perhaps the DIY version of a place to live is not reasonably on the cards for us.

But! I dream of being minimalist. When I pore over those tiny homes and sparse spaces, imagine coming home to a van with all my worldly possessions tucked into small overhead lockers, my one extravagance the coffee machine and a mug handmade by an artist in front of me as I travel, what I’m really craving is simplicity.

In our recent update to our (rather large) home we had to decant all of our possessions into the garage to allow the flooring to be replaced. It was like one of those bad reality TV shows where a celebrity you didn’t realise knew anything about interior design brings along a team who embarrassingly lay out everything you own and force you to choose which will be allowed back into the house which they will renovate while you are away for a long weekend in a luxury hotel, leaving your future home decor up to their (questionable) taste and talent. Everything we owned was crammed into the space. It horrified us to see just how much was there. The fact that it is the life possessions of five people didn’t make it any more justifiable. Ian and I both had crazy dreams that a fire would take hold of the garage and remove everything in one fell inferno… and with that thought we knew we needed to take a good look at ourselves.

It was time to rationalise things. 

How on earth did things get so out of hand??? The five of us have very different habits when it comes to our belongings.

1. Me. I keep things forever. I look after my belongings and everything has a place. My sisters used to joke that I would know if someone had been in my bedroom because I would know that the air had been moved. I’m not admitting to anything but they might have been on to something… I still use the scissors I was given when I was eight years old, my clothes include staples I bought for my first ever clinical placement thirty years ago (their current fit is not up for discussion!). I keep things and then I also add to the ‘collection’. My belongings only increase over time. And I sew and knit. My stash is out of bounds even if the pile of material seems to have overtaken anything stationary related in the study. Off limits, I tell you!

2. My husband. He goes through a regular purge. The two halves of the wardrobe are hilariously off balance not because I have encroached onto ‘his’ half but because he keeps barely anything in the space. Or in the study. Or the garage. Again, not that I’m admitting anything but… he may not be the problem here!

3. Offspring 1. A tells me that a home isn’t warm and welcoming unless it has stuff. Stuff everywhere. He is a maker, and the ingredients of his creativity multiply and threaten to take over every available space in his room. He is also a passionate soft toy collector… but again, I don’t think that’s the issue here.

4. Offspring 2. G is a dedicated fashionista who battles her equally strong urge to save money. Therefore her room overflows with fast fashion, favourite shoes, makeup. Her biggest love is home decor and in the clean up I find she has taken over a linen press for her own use and it is bulging. I wouldn’t mind a few of the sheet sets she seems to have stashed in there, her taste is impeccable.

5. Offspring 3. The sportsman can barely find his floor but it’s actually due to its use as a floordrobe and not related to any habit of accumulating possessions. Like his father M feels the need for very few items. I can’t blame him either.

Hmm. Things are not looking good for me here.

We were reminiscing but we were also feeling merciless. Some things were easy to move on. The multiple dinner sets, all lovely, rarely used, had to go. A glance at my great grandmothers plates that sit behind glass, so pretty and never used, were a reminder to use the beautiful things. I took down my favourite set from the display cabinet and placed them in our daily use. Already I am realising how much joy they bring me each time we bring them out and serve our meals on them. Yes, Marie Kondo, they #sparkjoy and therefore they get to stay. The boxes of tiny clothes and toys that are memories of the baby phase, they’ve gone. I have photos of each of them in use and, if I do ever have grandchildren, my children won’t want the old things that they wore. Hopefully there are children enjoying the toys that have moved on. I accepted that I won’t fit back into favourite old clothes, off they went in the bags to the Salvos. It was getting to be fun!!! And then we came to the back of the pile. The part of the pile that accounted for nearly a quarter of our possessions packed into the shed. 

The books.

Books! These are both useful AND beautiful and books are what threaten to overrun my home. There are more bookshelves than beds, more books in total than probably every other possession we have combined. I accrued thousands of steps each day just ferrying them back into the house in shopping bags. I poured a glass of wine in the evening and settled into reshelving the beloved things. My daughter, impatient to see the unpacking completed, stepped in to help. I couldn’t explain to her just how distressing it was for me to not be the one personally handling every single of them, choosing their home, marking it in my memory for future retrieval, ensuring it was shoulder to shoulder with a kindred spirit. She looked at me confused and sadly. “Just tell me where to put them and let’s get this done.” The cheek of the girl!

When I was growing up my parents would gift me books for my birthday and Christmas. Mum tells of going into the ABC shop where the assistant would give her advice on the books that would be just right for her girls. She never missed the mark, a great bookseller knows both books and readers and this woman was one of the greatest! Two books at a time, I would read them, devour them really, on the day they were opened. They’re still shelved together, those precious books of childhood, each of them read over and over and over until I can still recite them almost word for word. What Katy Did, The Peppermint Pig, Black Beauty and then, as I grew older The Lord of the Rings (boxed set of course), Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant, The Harp in the South. Don’t worry, I won’t give the full catalogue, but rest assured those books remain my most treasured possessions. I gave books to my babies when they were born and read to them every single day, without fail, in an effort to pass on my passion for reading. It infiltrated my work life as well, language and literacy for children from birth became a passion project I will forever be proud of being a part of introducing to our community(#bendigoreads). 

So be it! The overwhelming clutter in our home is my fault. Yes, Ian, I said it. Let’s never speak of this again. Books are the reason minimalism will never quite catch on in our home. I’m ok with that. I might go make a cup of tea and settle into my comfy chair. I’ve got a new book to read.