“The first step is to gather...all your clothes into one spot. Don’t leave a single wardrobe or dresser drawer unopened. Make sure you have gathered every last piece of clothing.”
--the life-changing magic of tidying up, by marie kondo.
With all this tidying up, has anybody thought to ask the clothes what they think?
From the Brown Sweater:
Let’s start with this word “tidy.” Is it not exclusively used by people you want to strangle? You probably first heard it from a kindergarten teacher, or worse, a Sunday School Teacher. Is there a more insufferable class of humans than those who wish to teach you a lesson?
Tidy.
Tidy, tidy, tidy, tidy, tidy.
It’s a nonsense trochee, something you’d hear in a bird call or dribbling out of a toddler’s mouth. So why is that the be-all end-all now?
Marie Kondo.
Kondo, Kondo, Kondo, Kondo.
Another nonsense trochee, not that people realize it yet.
KonMari is not even a real thing. She made the word up, oh-so-cleverly, by cutting and reversing syllables from her name. Based on that, Tidying up has sold 8.5 million copies, so now, technically, it has become shelf-clutter in 30 countries and 17 languages.
And you’re going to get rid of me, the brown sweater? Earth tones work nice in many fall ensembles!
My advice: kondo, to the curb.
From the Wooden Hanger That Once Preserved the Shape of the Brown Sweater
Usually my person comes into the closet in a rush, yanking at an item of clothing. I give it up without a fuss. Even when she throws the blouse on the floor we know: She’ll pick it up after work. She’ll rehang it.
So what was she doing here on Saturday at 10AM, when she typically wears her 1998 Northwestern University sweatpants, plus a tee shirt and minimal undergarments, or so my sources in the underwear drawer tell me?
She began going down the line, like the mean commandant in a WWII movie. It was like anti-shopping. Her words chill us to our synthetic, cotton, rayon, wool blend, even silk fibers: “Does this bring me delight?”, “Does this bring me delight?”, “Does this bring me delight?”, and hurtfully,“What was I even thinking?”
I’m just a hanger. What choice do I have?
From the Granny Panties, Until Recently of the Underwear Drawer
It’s not the underwear that determines what’s sexy. It’s the person wearing the underwear.
Obviously.
But then Victoria’s Secret spread the big lie, and if you’re a brief of a certain cut, made from non-luxury material, what can you do? Have faith in your absorbent panel and hang on through repeated washings, even as the hot-water rinse fades your floral motif. In fact I’m more comfortable now. Silky, if not actually silk. And for years I held sway as “lucky underwear,” because she wore Granny Panties to a job interview—which is sensible—and got the job.
But that Saturday she pulled on lace boyshorts, totally out of character with her Northwestern sweatpants from ‘98. She even popped the waistband, saucily; unheard of. She talked to each of us, mumbling about delight, delight, delight. Is that even a reasonable goal on a Saturday morning in Armonk?
Now I’m in a black plastic bag at the curb, without even the hope of resale. Nobody buys a used panty. Except those creepy guys on the subway in Tokyo, many of whom edit books about tidying up. And you know what they mean by that.
From the 1998 Northwestern Wildcats Sweatpants, late of a Hook in the Walk-In
We go so far back, the two of us. I can remember when she needed the drawstring to cinch her 28” undergraduate waist. I was a comfort to her in two pregnancies, especially after the drawstring slipped out.
But then the kids were born, and a post-natal period of self-loathing and self-improvement (same thing) settled in, and I went from “comforting” to “baggy” almost overnight. When she took me off the hook that final day, I knew something was up.
That’s right: Yoga pants.
I guess they bring delight. Especially to the guy staring at her ass in yoga class.
Northwestern has changed typefaces—twice!—since I was sold at the bookstore. I don’t stand a chance, except in the event of a nostalgia-graphics buy at Goodwill.
From the Hold Everything Nesting Storage Boxes, Sitting Empty in the Attic
Used to be, we were the symbol of good organization. Box it up. Label it. Pop the E-Z Click handles to keep out rodents and shield bugs. Now we’re as empty as a bookshelf with only one slender volume on it: the life changing magic of tidying up.
Evidently “marie kondo” doesn’t even make room for capital letters.
But this can’t last.
“Does it bring me delight?” is fully answered by Amazon Prime. “Does it bring me overnight?”
Oh yes, it most certainly does.
Brown Sweater and Granny Panties are done for. I can’t bring them back. But I can make room for The Daily Deal.
There are 2,172 used copies of “tidying” for sale on Amazon. You know you want one. It can be delivered by next Tuesday, in fact.
