domesticated clutter demonstrated
Lately my already tenuous hold on household order has slipped. Luckily I love irony, or the irony of creating chaos by writing about it would be killing me.
But I do and it’s not, and I am somewhat saved from chaos by some fail-safes I prepared earlier.
Like: the fact that I already had my bases covered for the eventuality of disorder prevailing (because it was going to happen, someday, somehow). Three kids, two adults and a dog living in 85m2 was always going to be a challenge, as I’ve mentioned before.
open shelf storage
What has saved my home from uglitude is:
1) accepting that there will be clutter
2) utensils and appliances that are functional as well as beautiful, or well hidden
3) finding creative storage spaces (from vertical storage behind doors to windowsills – such underutilized areas in minimalist philosophy!)
vertical storage for hats, scarves and necklaces
occupied – these bags store things as various as baby slings and picnic tableware
my jugs on display. Ok, my ju-g.
I cannot help myself – I love my giant peg, and my yellow duckies
4) keeping it eclectic (matchy-matchy is far harder to achieve by shopping second hand. Plus, it’s really, really dull.)
plain shade wrapped in a shawl atop a stack of home magazines – storage for shawl + hair decoration + magazines = boheme bedside table and lamp
5) going with a boheme vibe which kind of soaks up, or embraces, clutter.
My feelings on clutter are this: it’s better not to have it. I regularly go through our cupboards and throw as much as I can out – which is never ever enough to go minimalist, even were I so inclined. So, if you are going to have clutter – and for some of us it’s inevitable (and apparently for the sake of creativity you’re better off not getting up hung up over it anyway, according to this comforting little piece) – you must, like the Borg, learn to assimilate.
Thus, all our utensils and stationery and paperwork, toys, schoolbags and hoarded treasures are either in and of themselves visually appealing, displayed appealingly, or contained in something visually appealing, or at the very least tidy. I collect containers of all sorts when I come across them especially for those little odds and sods which end up lying around until they’re rehomed.
fabric covered container
Someone commented in response to my post on beauty and discrimination how unnecessary it seemed to choose between intelligence and attractiveness when a person could embrace both as a gift. Broadening the point, I get the feeling that greenies like me (and busy mommies) have a tendency to eschew attractive surroundings, assuming, I think, that busy and/or frugal lifestyles cannot or should not also accommodate beauty. But me, I am an artiste, and uglitude sucks my energy and disorders my mind. But I don’t think it’s just me being precious, I think we all function more efficiently in comely environs. Humans are biologically programmed for aesthetic pleasure, so I don’t feel a little bit bad, even as an environmentally-conscious greeny, for desiring attractive surroundings. I’m convinced it enables me to be more productive and creative.
Feral vs Domesticated Clutter
Of course, there is more than one kind of clutter; let’s narrow it down to two kinds – feral and domesticated.
Feral clutter watches you with hostility and retreats from taming. It is unpredictable. Do not turn your back on it. Domesticated clutter is far friendlier. It allows itself to be wheedled into co-operation with bribes of food. And what you want living with you in your home is the domesticated variety.
Domesticated clutter may be, well, still clutter, but it works with one toward a purpose, and thus one feels that though “everything” constitutes a lot of “things”, still everything has a place. By which I mean, in my house, I know where everyone’s crap is at all times. But at least it’s nice crap.
making whoopie with books and other nice crap
So how do I justify my desire for an appealing home space while preaching thrift? Simple. Op shops are my thrill. I love a good rummage. If I ever had (just dreaming here) a day off from toddlers and kids, that is where I would go. Just me and the junk. Yep – weep for my sad little hobby. But it gets the job done, and how. I recently, in a period of obsessive organisation, upgraded our household storage from almost none to at least interesting and (to my eyes at least) attractive, for a fraction of the cost of the thrifty suggestions by the idea mills, through my weirdo secondhand shopping habit. For literally a few hundred smackeroos I revamped my entire house. Yu-huh. (High-fives self.)
I just love getting one over on Big Business plutocrats. I realise that if everyone descended upon their local op shops they’d be emptied in days leaving just the dross, but really, people, we do not need so much stuff. Think twice before you buys. (Erm…yeah…scraping the bottom of the rhyme barrel there…)
First World Expectations and the Surprising Evil Role of Pinterest
cunning out-in-the-open storage of books, ornaments and children’s art
We may have a problem with our expectations. I was brought up in a third world country, and this has shaped my standards. But this is not necessarily to insult the third world’s standards. Maybe the first world’s standards are too gorram high. Dusty baseboards? Pfft, seriously?? I’d rather read another book to my kid. There’s few enough hours in a day. A new kitchen? What’s wrong with the old one? Does it truly need ripping out, or have you just put too many hours in on Pinterest? Put your hands in the air and step away from that Board… Really. I know the siren call of Pinterest; how it drowns out the voice of reason. (Having said that, I can point you to some great little boards where people have made sweet interior decorating whoopie with very basic, if not sub-par, spaces.)
Assimilation and Futility, Pushing the Borg Analogy to its Limits
I’m not going to even try to pretend I’ve got it made in chaos wrangling, that would be….futile. As I write, there’s the debris of a toybox explosion around my feet and I didn’t quite get around to unpacking all the groceries. But that’s my point – sub-perfection is O.K. If you can look around your place and it reflects you and makes you happy, you’ve succeeded in making whoopie with what you have.