A Fashion-Revolution-Worthy Clothes Thrifter

I posted these tips on Instagram in April for Fashion Revolution Week, and I'm sharing them here now too.

Part One:

Monday begins Fashion Revolution Week 2024. I’ve been thinking about how to add my two cents into this year’s FRW, and it seems the most useful advice I can give is about how and why to thrift clothes. Thrift stores have taken a bad rap recently, as in many places their prices have gone up,  for a mixture of reasons. Many reels have been shared of crazy overpriced junk items still wearing dollar-store price tags for less than the thrift store is asking, or of empty supermarket jam jars priced at more than the jar of jam. People are absolutely right to find that offensive. On the other hand, if you’re careful and know what you want, you can pass right by the jam jars and other garbage, and come home with things you like and can use—and that includes clothes. Most of my tips for successful in-store clothes thrifting are not that earth-shattering, but I’ll lay out a half dozen of them  in hopes of restoring a little faith in thrift shops, especially the little non-profits who have been getting their share of the recent shade on this, but who really deserve support. I should add the caveat that most of these tips are for women’s clothes; mileage may vary on men's, children's, and infants' clothes.

1. Try to avoid the clothes equivalent of jam jars and dollar store décor. Instead of complaining that thrift stores overcharge for BigStore cheapest t-shirts, decide right off that you are not there to waste time on those brands (because, certainly, you could go to the BigStore and buy them there if that’s what you want). Since thrift stores tend to price all t-shirts, for example, within a small range, where you are going to get the best bang for your buck is with a slightly better brand. Same price, better quality. I can’t afford new L.L. Bean clothes, but the Bean pieces I have thrifted are almost always keepers.

2. You’ll hear this often: ignore size labels. It’s true, within reason. Sometimes thrift store items have shrunk, sometimes they’ve been shortened or taken in, sometimes you just want a looser fit, or the sizing for a particular company is different than you’d expect. If you can remember to bring along a measuring tape, or you want to learn some of the sizing tricks like wrapping pants waists around your neck (or whatever that is), you can get even better at overlooking the supposed size of something.

3. Watch out for certain bad things that do get past back-room sorters, like broken zippers or peeling faux-leather. While the extremely rich can apparently get away with wearing something practically in rags, the rest of us are probably better off sticking with intact items or at least those that we know how to mend.

4. Shop in places that do a colour-of-the-week, or that have a last-chance bargain rack. You are just as apt to find something you like on the dollar rack as you are in the fancy boutique corner.

5. This sounds too obvious, but if you’re trying to find a print skirt to match a t-shirt, or the other way round, wear the shirt or skirt, or at least bring it along. Store lighting is often strange, and our visual memory can also play tricks on us, so bring something to match and you’ll be less likely to be colour-flummoxed when you get the new item into broad daylight.

6. As @therefashionista taught us, ugly can become cute, too large can be made just right, and good bits can be combined to make new good things. Look for possibilities and potential: dresses can become skirts, shirts can lose their sleeves (or acquire new ones), scarves can become fancy jackets (or can line baskets or wrap gifts).

Those are my tried-and-true tips, but there are always new things to learn. What works for you?

Part Two:

The six clothes-thrifting tips I posted earlier in the week for #fashionrevolutionweek were pretty basic, but they’re enough to get you started. But how to go deeper? It’s not always easy to put what we really do into lists or words, and it’s not even often required. As Edward Espe Brown once wrote about making salad, you mainly have to know which bowl you’re going to use and how much it has to be filled for everybody to have enough. But here we go with some black-belt thrifting strategies, most of which can be used for clothes as well as other things. 

Blackbelt Thrifting Tip Number One: Many of my thrift-store stops are brief, and I’ve learned to look at things FAST.  Doing this means that you have to tune in certain things you want, and ignore the rest. Have a specialty, a favourite, a signature colour or pattern or collectible. This might not be lifelong, and it could change, but at least for this season, keep honing in on a very few visual cues. When I’m looking at a thrift store shelf of books, I ignore the mass-market paperbacks (easy because they have a similar size, shape, look) and zoom in on anything bigger, smaller, older; and you can train your eye to do the same with clothes, shoes, purses. I don’t mean you need encyclopedic knowledge of fashion labels, but more like—knowing what the red-winged blackbird sounds like so that you can pick it out of the other bird calls. If you love pink silk floral scarves, that’s what you watch for on the scarf rack, and ignore all the black and white glittery polyester stripes. The magic of this is, first of all, that it takes a whole lot of other things out of your visual field, narrows your vision, gives you some “astringency”; and, second, that after you’ve bought things this way for awhile, they (not so strangely) tend to work well together.

Blackbelt Thrifting Tip Number Two: A homeschool saying we often hear is that the best book or resource is often whichever one you have on your shelf (or can find in the library), the points of that being that, first of all, whatever you have is probably fine if you just make the most of it, and, second, that you’ve saved the time, energy, and money needed to source something different. This also applies to thrifting clothes, or, more accurately, not-thrifting them. Yes, thrifting is a sustainable choice, but it is not without its costs, including staff and volunteer time, building overhead, and disposal issues (even the good stuff doesn’t always sell). Although I happen to be in thrift stores frequently and enjoy finding clothes there (though, again, I try to practice one in-one out restraint), that’s not going to be the same for everyone, and, to repeat the opening point, the best and most sustainable thing you wear is probably something you already have. Whether it was bought new or thrifted, whether it’s recently made or a sweater you’ve had since college, wear it, take care of it, mend it, launder it responsibly, and (if possible) do a Joseph’s Little Overcoat and turn it into something else useful when its wearing life is done.

Social media posts often list rules for successful thrifting, things you should "always" do to up your game. But as a friend said recently about hockey, what you really need to know is that the puck is supposed to go in the net. In the same way, I've found that most of the "rules" you can lay down about secondhand shopping can be true one time, false the next, though the end goal is the same. "Always shop with a list"--don't go browsing the shirts when you know you need shoes, or so they say. Reality: this may not be the day that there are any good shoes in your size, but you might find a Crockpot instead. "Don't be too specific, though": sometimes I have gone in thinking "purple turtleneck" and that is exactly what I've found. "Always go on Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday, early in the morning, late in the evening, etc."--well, we don't go to the same places in the same order on the same day, because, life and weather and other things. Unless you happen to know that a store ONLY puts new things out on Mondays, you're probably better off mixing things up. "The last place you go is always the best"--well, sometimes we go to the flea market, buy something at the first table while the entry-stamp is still wet on our hands, and then don't find anything else for the next two hours. "Buy it now, because it won't be here when you come back"--sometimes yes, sometimes no. If it's not a popular item, the odds are that it might be hanging around for at least a few days more.

About the only rule I can think of that never fails is "be generous." Don't grab things out of other shoppers' carts or otherwise be a thrifting pig. Ask friends or family what they're looking for, and if you see their "unobtanium," send them a snapshot and ask if they want it. Share your good finds with others. And that is how to be a #fashionrevolutionweek thrifter.

Quote for the day: Charlotte Mason says we can but do what we are able for

Eliminating schedule clutter and online overload  is a popular theme these days for minimalist media people (for instance, the book Digital Minimalism). In this quote from a chapter on Loyalty, Charlotte Mason points out that we may have to risk being thought "unamiable" if we say "no" to certain requests.

"Thoroughness and unstinted effort belong to this manner of Loyalty; and, therefore, we have at times to figure as unamiable persons because we are unable to throw ourselves into every new cause that is brought before us. We can but do what we are able for; and Loyalty to that which we are doing will often forbid efforts in new directions." ~~ Charlotte Mason, Ourselves

Paper or Plastic? It's not about the recycling.

I read Paper or Plastic, by Daniel Imhoff, very quickly, at the request of our thrift store manager who wants the staff to have a chance at it too.

The book is almost fifteen years old, and it's showing its age somewhat but still worth looking at. It's one of a series of three books, and this one is, very specifically, about the issue of packaging, large and small, including shipping packaging such as pallets. What is our burgeoning need for packaging stealing from the earth, and how in the world will we put it back? It reminded me of a rude meme misquoting The Lorax: "I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees; litter again, and I'll break your (expletive) knees." But is anger all we can offer?

The message that came across from the book was not so much about the ins and outs of whether paper or plastic packaging can be recycled better, but the huge amount of resources they both demand in the first place. These days everybody knows that plastic is bad bad bad; but the truth is that paper (and wood and cardboard) hurts too. The Lorax speaking for the trees has more to worry about than litter; and that's just the packaging, we're not even talking about products. Imhoff does point out how much primary packaging relates to the thing inside it, or the amount of product demanded in one package. If people didn't think they required cup-sized amounts of yogurt, for example, then the recyclability of small plastic yogurt cups wouldn't be an issue. Or you can look at the problem more as the sheer amount of stuff that gets made and needs packaging. A thousand pairs of shoes need a thousand sets of boxes or wraps or hang-tags. If everyone bought fewer shoes in the first place, there would (obviously) be fewer trimmings to dispose of.

But how can we fight back against over-packaging caused by over-production? First and most obviously, to make do, or make do longer, with the thing we have instead of buying something else.  Intentional contentment will save us from a certain amount of Loraxian knee-breaking.

Beyond that? Thrift stores (yes, I made the connection). Yard sales, rummage sales, buying used goods locally through online ads. Swapping and borrowing. Upcycling stuff. You get double points for anything that is both pre-used and that doesn't come in a box or bag you can't easily re-use (compostable is okay).

More ways to avoid packaging, and maybe save money too: growing food. Making things at home that otherwise come in a package, like cookies or yogurt, as long as the ingredients don't produce even more packages. Buying things in person from local makers. Shopping at bulk stores and produce markets that let you re-use containers. Buying big sacks of things if it works for you. (We used to buy oatmeal and beans that way, through a buying co-op).

And yes, buying less overall. Sharing things among more people. Renting things you'll need only briefly. Having gift-free parties and swag-free meetings. In some ways, that could be more important than worrying about whether it's paper or plastic. Because our houses and apartments and storage units and closets and backpacks are packaging too.

Save some packaging. Save some trees. Save some knees.

Charlotte Mason was a minimalist decorator?

"It is worth while to remember that space is the most precious and also the most pleasing thing in a house or room; and that even a small room becomes spacious if it is not crowded with useless objects." ~~ Charlotte Mason, Ourselves, p. 177

(Guessing that she was not a fan of Victorian decorating!)

New Project 333 page is up: Spring 2019, The Colours of Clouds

Spring is on the way! Time to phase out the turtlenecks, and rediscover short sleeves. 

Time: March through Victoria Day (the May weekend when we pretend summer's here.)

Number of items: I don't know, I haven't counted.

This painting is my inspiration for  the coming season:

Tom Thomson, Storm Clouds in Algonquin Park

Thrifted bag, upcycled from upholstery samples

Clouds, from our balcony

OUTFITS

Jean jacket, grey cowlneck sweater, grey jeans, grey running shoes, blue backpack

Read the rest of the post here.

Minimalism and the world of Charlotte Mason (last of three)

Part Two is here.

"Guard the nursery; let nothing in that has not the true literary flavour; let the children grow up on a few books read over and over, and let them have none, the reading of which does not cost an appreciable mental effort." ~~ Charlotte Mason, Formation of Character

These three photographs show almost all the books I currently own. I used to have a lot more, although, to be fair, a large percentage of those were for the children, and we had more than the usual number of those because we homeschooled (Charlotte Mason's cautions notwithstanding). So it's easier to keep fewer books now. But to quite a few minimalists, this would be a ridiculous number of books. To some minimalists, any paper books, especially those you intend on keeping, are too many.

I, obviously, object profoundly to the idea that my reading life would be just as satisfying if I gave away every book when I'd "finished" it, or if I read only e-texts. As to the second, there are plenty of books that have never been digitized, or that just work better on paper. (Large art books, for instance.)

As for the first, Charlotte Mason said herself that the best books are never really finished.

As a thrift-store volunteer, I agree that, in some ways, there are too many books out there, or rather, too many that aren't of much value. As with any too-large pile of objects, the treasures get swamped by the dreck. I don't think everybody needs a personal forever-copy of every classic, any more than every woman needs a pair of black pumps. Good libraries are our friends! But I do think that minds are fed, imaginations are awakened, and rooms are made warmer by a chosen, cherished collection of spark-joy books by favourite authors.

So, yes to minimalism that allows us to major on the majors; but no to bare (or non-existent) bookshelves!

Minimalism and the world of Charlotte Mason (second of three)

Part One is here.

I recently read Lee Simpson's book about her year-without-buying-anything. Unlike some people who interpret that to mean "nothing new but used is fine," this Canadian woman set the bar a little higher: no additions to her closet, period. Not even underwear. An additional wrinkle was the fact that she had cleared out most of her work clothes in anticipation of a jeans-wearing retirement, but was suddenly offered a new job. Getting through a year on those terms required a great deal of creativity along with some humility, and it would have been understandable if she had pleaded exceptional circumstances and broken her self-imposed limits. She carried it through,  however, and on ending her experiment, she had also made herself more aware of (among other things) the huge environmental and human cost of clothing over-production and over-consumption.

Lee Simpson and Charlotte Mason agree on the value of keeping, cherishing, appreciating things, and also of supporting craftspeople (such as knitters and weavers). Charlotte Mason is huge on sense of place, local economy, homegrown, artisanal--when it's the real thing, not just for the tourists. 

These aren't clothes, they're mats and tablecloths--but they're mostly handmade.

Simpson, unlike some who have written on fast fashion, does not differentiate between new and used items, reasoning that even something used will quickly be replaced as factories and sweatshops churn out more. This is the point where her beliefs and mine diverge a bit, and I think Charlotte Mason's opinion might fall between the two. I don't think that buying a pre-owned "something" magically creates another of its kind somewhere in Cambodia; and it is a worthwhile goal to give things a longer life and keep them out of the landfill, especially if a purchase supports a ministry such as MCC. The thrift store, for me, offers the creative potential of the overstuffed closet, craft shelf, and bookcases that I don't have, without the problems caused by buying new things. And of course, it stretches our budget. While Charlotte Mason was not a fan of bargain-hunting, she was always against waste, so I do believe she could have been convinced of buying used for justice and environmental reasons. I also think that you can do a decent amount of using the will, even from secondhand sources, by shopping with intention, buying what you need, and choosing the best quality you can.

However, I do see Simpson's basic point: that if we buy like crazy, new or used, we are repeating the values of the system that never allows us to say "enough." To break those patterns, we have to look first at the "maybe I don't need to buy anything at all"  levels of Sarah Lazarovic's Buyerarchy of Needs. (Using what we have, borrowing, swapping.) 

When Lee Simpson cut off shopping, she had to make the most of clothes and shoes that she might have otherwise ignored. That included a pair of red moccasins that suddenly became a "feature item" on her wardrobe menu, and the one good blazer that had escaped her workwear purge; but it also meant stained shirts hidden under other layers, and frayed collars disguised with silk scarves. The clothes were wearable, but under other circumstances they might have been discarded--like Simpson's tubes of cosmetics--before the last bits of usefulness had been squeezed out. Finding beauty and potential in your own closet is meaningful minimalism.

Part Three is here.

Minimalism and Charlotte Mason (first of three)

Minimalism defined as choice is a very Charlotte Mason concept.

That is, selecting your personal and household possessions not by trend and fad, but by individual choice based on principles of taste and suitability. As one example, Mason wrote that collections of objects are not bad in themselves; but that they should be worthwhile objects, and should be properly arranged and cared for. In her view, spending a great deal of money or travelling miles to add to the hoard may be a meaningless pursuit; on the other hand, a "free" collection of natural objects might be carefully curated and very significant. This is, in its best sense, "sparking joy."

A lesson plan on using flowers to design an embroidered book cover implies that some people, at least, enjoy designing, making, or owning embroidered book covers. It also discourages the use of cookie-cutter patterns. Aren't things more meaningful when they hold a bit of the maker's imagination? 

Charlotte Mason says that it can be fine to choose a standard  item of clothing or furniture, if that's what makes the most sense and if it means you don't have to "dither" over it. She emphasizes priorities, keeping things in proportion, and not being obsessive about perfect shopping choices. Life makes many other demands on us, and we are here to serve others--not to be served. 

But at the same time, serving others includes creating cheerful homes and classrooms, with as much comfort and beauty as we can manage. We do not default to the cheapest, plainest alternative either because we think paying the lowest price is the highest good or because our small-p-puritan ethic demands no frills or colour. In this era of madly cleaning out and embracing plain walls and white sheets (but only the best sheets), we may not realize how much we are, as much as ever, still following fashion and opinion, but missing the heart. To do what everybody's doing is to live in fear of offending, or in the self-centered wish to seem hip. We walk rather in faith, knowing that we have chosen.

Part Two is here.

Project 333, Winter 2019: A Quieter Space

In a recent article for Simplify Magazine, Myquillyn Smith described a New Year's ritual at her house. She chooses a room to "quieten,"  and removes everything but the basic furniture. (If you've ever read Myquillyn Smith's home books, you know that her decorating style is not bare-minimalist, so this is an undertaking.) For a short period of time, that space is allowed to just "be," giving it a fresh start. Stripped to essentials, does it feel bigger? Lighter? Is it easier to think in a clean space? The accessories and art are re-introduced gradually and carefully, with appreciation but also with deliberateness.

Courtney Carver's Project 333 could be called quieting the wardrobe. When you empty a closet, what goes back in? 

Scarves aren't essential (or quiet), but they're nice!

Do two pairs of pants and one skirt make us feel unburdened, or too limited? How many shirts or sweaters do we need until the next load of laundry? Do some of them suddenly feel like excess? Which things are fine in themselves, but don't work well with others, don't fit our current lifestyle, or (we finally admit) don't look wonderful on us? Pared down to the essentials, what shines through? 

I thought about all of this. I realize I could get along with fewer clothes, but: 

1. It's winter. I need enough clothes to stay warm.

2. I like most of what I'm wearing, and wear most of what I have. 

3. So a good general clean-out seemed like enough this time, rather than trying to pick this over that. I do have a bag of no-that-didn't-work things headed for the thrift store.

Read the rest of the page here.

The Intentional Thrifter: Three years of culling the closet

About three years ago, I went "back to school" on getting dressed in the morning. The only thing I was sure of was that I wanted to stop wearing black jeans with everything.  I was also tired of freebie clothes that I'd stretched as far as I could.  Even when I did buy the odd new sweater or blouse, I couldn't figure out what to do with it...except wear it with black jeans. Or blue jeans.

Over those three years, I've shamelessly cycled a large number of thrifted clothes into my closet and out again.  It wasn't hard to get rid of what I didn't like; it was harder settling on what I did. My life does not normally require me to make a business impression or dress like something I'm not, and I'm grateful for that. I've admired photos of expensive (to me) new clothing, but, especially lately, I often get pulled up short by finding something nearby and secondhand that does just as well.

The $2 scarf I bought last week and wore today.

On time spent shopping, I think I spend an average amount, maybe more than some (because quite a few of my friends don't have the time or inclination), but less than women who spend hours browsing malls.  I do like reading a few style websites for fun, and there are a couple of You-tubers I follow, so I guess you'd count that as shopping-thinking time, even if they're not selling anything. Treehouse readers know how often I post photos of new things, but those are usually found in a quick few minutes after a thrift shift.

Silk and linen navy blazer with 3/4 length sleeves (I think). It's a size 14 petite, which should be totally not my size, but it it's a perfect fit. The accompanying pants, however, seem made for a giant. Sometimes you have to buy the package and use what you can.

Things I've Learned

I've learned to be cautious of fast-fashion fabric, new or used. Mass-market "modal" can be just as cheap and disappointing as regular stretchy synthetics. But thrifting is a good antidote for synthetic blahs, especially if your limited budget keeps you away from more inventive (read $$) makers. Used clothes often span a wider variety of price points and fabrics.

I've discovered I'm old enough...and young enough...not to have everything machine-wash-and-dryable. We've always done a lot of line-drying, but I tended to avoid hand-washing when our household was bigger--too much fuss. Like many jobs that initially sound too time-consuming, it's really about having the tools in place to make it a habit. For me, those are dishpans, a timer, and drying racks, plus those extra hangers I mentioned. I think I've ruined just one white top by handwashing it, and that's because it accidentally picked up pink stains from something else.

I've bought some bright colours, but I'm finding I like certain neutrals (grey, off-white, not-too-dark navy) just as much. I've learned that oversized isn't my best friend, and neither is beige of any sort. I keep hoping those beige caterpillars will magically turn into beautiful taupe butterflies, but it's pretty hopeless. I've also learned to stay away from crispy menswear, and pants designed for retirees.

The biggest thing I'm learning recently is to cut the closet fat a bit more, or at least slow the train of comings and goings. As time goes on, I'm recognizing more long-haul clothes "friends," and I feel less like shifting them off to make room for others.

And finally, thrifting isn't just about clothes. Recent book finds:

 I'm looking forward to reading Our Native Song as an addition to our local CM group's music study.

This one's a CM-era relic.

Keeping it green and cheerful on Black Friday

The best place to shop on Black Friday? The MCC thrift store, after a morning of sorting books. No special deals, but buying thrift means giving things a second chance; and, at this store, each purchase also supports Mennonite Central Committee programs.

Plus nobody was pushing me around or fighting for carts.

For under $10, I found a real-deal pashmina scarf in my favourite colour; a pottery soup mug; and a copy of Surprised by Laughter: The Comic World of C.S. Lewis. Yes, in spite of what Roald Dahl's Matilda said, Lewis was "sustained by joy and humour," to quote the dust jacket.

These other two items were bought earlier in the week. The sewing book (with unused patterns!) is for me.

And the plastic Tardis cookie jar, with lights and sound effects, is an early present for Mr. Fixit.

Who needs malls when you can travel through space and time?

The Intentional Thrifter: It's a coverup

This is only partly a thrifting story. Just warning you upfront.

Over the past year I've acquired and dis-acquired several third-layer pieces: cardigans, jackets, and, most recently, a cozy shrug that matched our carpet. I don't mind walking on beige, but in my mostly-grey-and-navy closet it was a sore thumb. So it's going back to the thrift store, along with a shiny silver jacket (big non-removable shoulder pads made it look too '80's-scary) and a limp, dishwatery cardigan.

What did I replace them all with? Something expensive? Something thrifted? Something handmade? None of those.  On a get-some-fresh-air walk to the discount store, I browsed their clearance rack, and came home with a bunch of bananas and this half-price reversible poncho/cape/ruana. It had tassels on the corners, but I trimmed them off. My only complaint is that it already seems to be an electromagnet for loose hairs. It's a good thing we don't have a cat.

What do you do with a navy and grey poncho/cape/ruana, minus tassels??

First of all, you pull out your discount-store navy turtleneck, a thrifted wine-coloured shirt, and a thrifted grey cowlneck sweater.

You add the best (thrifted) scarves you have that were just waiting for something grey or navy.

Then you watch all the You-tube videos you can find, and start wrapping.

I think that covers it.

The Intentional Thrifter: Winter is coming

Last week I shuffled a few things out of my closet and back to the thrift store. The had-pity-on-it-for-$2.50 purple suede skirt: it was just too heavy, literally. Last winter's grey cardigan: also too heavy for the places I find myself, and I've discovered I like sweaters a bit shorter and with more shape. A top that was too tight, a couple of other things that weren't working...back where they came from.

In return I picked out a grey wool midi skirt (all my other skirts are short). Wool skirts don't come my way often, so I'm happy about that. It makes me feel Charlotte-Mason-approved.

I also found a cardigan and a sort-of-houndstooth blazer, after my most recent thrift shift. The cardigan was sorted with the "outerwear," but it's just medium-heavy. It buttons only at the bottom, giving it some drape and shape.

 I added a extra hook and eye to close it near the top.

There are no labels in it at all, so its story is a mystery.

I noticed the blazer earlier, but was going to give it a pass because I thought it was too long. Then I ran into a friend who happened to be shopping, and she said, "Hey! I saw a jacket over there that you should try on." (I have helpful friends.) So I did, and it came home. I snipped out its yucky bare-foam shoulder pads, and it's good otherwise.

Here it is with a top and leggings.

With a grey dress and scarf:

And with a sweater dress.

So: six out, three in. Ready for winter.

A Quick Book Review: Decluttering at the Speed of Life

Decluttering at the Speed of Life: Winning Your Never-Ending Battle with Stuff, by Dana K. White (Amazon link)

If you want to hear an original and practical voice in the clutter of decluttering books, check this one out. One reason it resonated with me is that Mr. Fixit and I followed very similar methods when we downsized, so we know they can work!

One example: think of your house (or apartment), clothes closet, purse shelf, and dinner-knife compartment as a collection of big and small containers. Each one is designed to hold just so much stuff, no more; so we should keep no more than the container allows. Sounds like a no-brainer, but how many times do we try to keep it all, or to bring in more, rather than working with the space we have? Most of us recognize this reality when we pack a suitcase: it's only so big, we can't take all those shoes plus a hairdryer plus presents for the relatives. But we're often not as careful when it comes to home spaces.

In the past year, for example, I have turned down free drinking glasses, because I knew all our designated drinking glass space was taken, and I did not want to give something else up so that we could have more drinking glasses.  But at some point we might decide we don't need as many coffee mugs and we do want more drinking glasses. It's all about choices.

Mr. Fixit's half of our bedroom closet is mostly storage cubes and shelves for things he uses. He has very few hanging clothes, so that's fine with him; or he can hang things in the hall closet. But my side is all hangers.

I was happy to be able to fit in as many bookcases as we did into our apartment space. That is (not counting Lydia's room and Mr. Fixit's closet shelves), exactly three: two in the dining area and one in the bedroom. I do have a small space in another cupboard for university textbooks, and we often have books living on the coffee table. But that's it! There are no good places to put more bookshelves, and the ones we have are pretty full. If I started bringing home piles of books from the thrift store, I would soon have a problem. So respecting the limits of our space helps us stay with "enough" and not "too much."

Check out Decluttering at the Speed of Life for more uncluttered decluttering talk.

October Project 333 update, with numbers this time

Project 333, October-December 2018: Tiny Warm Version

#project333

As the days get colder, the clothes basics change. September staples bring October shivers.

Plus, I'm aware that my current "happy wardrobe" is not exactly a tiny wardrobe. Courtney Carver is the first to say that her numbers may not be your numbers, but still there's a difference between "33, everything" and "60+, not counting anything except clothes." I can't imagine counting sunglasses as an item (although Courtney does),  and I also don't find that scarves and belts cause decision fatigue; but it doesn't seem fair to say you're playing the game if you ignore all the rules.

So if I had to map out a core of autumn basics, I'd probably choose these, as the most multi-purpose and multi-weather things I own. 

Read the rest of the page here.

Minimalism is not animism, so don't throw that baby out with the bath products

Some people are turned off from KonMari-style decluttering because of Marie Kondo's Buddhist worldview. They get nervous about holding up a sweater to see if it sparks joy...to mix religions, that sounds a lot like reading auras. And they definitely don't thank their shoes for a good day's work. It's like the Zen cookbook that recommends asking the carrot how it feels like being seasoned today.  In our Western view, shoes and carrots do not have feelings.

But it's an interesting question: can you encounter a philosophy, use its good practices but disagree with some of its fundamentals? That comes up often with Charlotte Mason: can you embrace her educational principles without giving credit to the Holy Spirit? Tough call, because she drew on philosophers, writers, and educators both inside and outside of the Christian tradition; but she believed that God's Spirit inspired all such insights. I think it's hard to pull off a secular CM education and not miss something vital, but there are those who disagree and do it anyway.

So, is there a non-Buddhist version of KonMari, beyond the cliche of not talking to socks? Are there places in this philosophy of tidying where wisdom crosses cultural and religious lines?

Thought One

One reviewer said that "spark joy" is simply asking who we are, what in our lives made us acquire these things, and who we think we would like to be from this point on. What are our true priorities? In Anne Tyler's novels, including her latest one, Clock Dance, characters have a habit of disengaging themselves from their built-up, overstuffed lives...running away for awhile to gain a new perspective. Sometimes they return home, sometimes they don't. Since running away is not always practical, we need to find other ways of looking at ourselves, and one way to do that is by examining our homes and possessions. If we can climb out from under harmful stories or false expectations, and begin to "know ourselves" (I think that's Marcus Aurelius oops, no, Plato talking about an inscription at Delphi), we may not want to live any longer with stuff representing those stories. The author of Goodbye, Things says he did not really want to read hundreds of books,  that he was not enjoying his large camera collection. For him, those things were props that said "I want to be that person." For other people, belongings from the past say "I was that person, and I am still that person. Or, I will be that person again."

Someone else (I can't remember who) pointed out that it's easier to ask what things in your life might "spark more joy" for someone else. Kitchen utensils and bedding might spark joy for a refugee family or fire victims. When we downsized, I let go of many large toys and books that families with  younger children could use. The dollhouse my grandfather built was a pivotal one for me, because holding on to it said that I stilll recognized the work he had put into it, and also remembered the fun that our girls had playing with it. But, in the end, it was a large, cumbersome wooden object that we could not possibly use or fit into our apartment, and it would not do anybody any good sitting in storage for someday-grandchildren. Time to let go.

Sometimes, ironically for Western objectors to animism, we hold on to objects because we're afraid of not having them around. They are emotionally powerful, imbued with the history and meanings we give them. Books are often like that...we want to hold on to the exact book someone once gave us, or that we bought for a quarter in a little secondhand store. I have my share of those. But perhaps, sometimes, it wouldn't hurt to lean a bit Eastern in our ways of letting go. Have a little goodbye party, if you need to. Be Miss Sadie and have a hat fashion show before you give your new friend all your mother's hats.

Thought Two

A big part of KonMari is finding homes for everything that remains in your home. That implies not only that you have good reasons for keeping whatever you do keep, but that you can find enough space for that number of things. It's like admitting that you're never going to be tall enough to pull off stiletto heels: you have the floor space and cupboards that you have. As I've posted here before, right now my wardrobe limits are four drawers, half a closet, and (currently) a suitcase that is holding a few transitional summer things. When the t-shirts are folded, and you see them all lined up in the drawer, you can't imagine either that you don't have enough shirts, or that you would be able to put more of them somewhere else. There is a sense of gratitude, of contentment, and of order.

Recently my daughter gave me a zippered case that she wasn't using, that she thought I'd like. She was right: it is just the right size to store the small amount of makeup I own, and it fits perfectly into the dishpan which fits in the cupboard under the sink in the bathroom. It's such a pretty design that yes, it does spark joy when I pull it out. I don't need more than that.

Thought Three

Christians have been instructed to live lightly here; to set their hearts on things above; to view their time on this earth as full of delights, but still only as a taste of what is to come. That doesn't mean we should all become nomads without possessions, or that having just one of everything is always best. We are instructed to show hospitality, and that implies that at least some of us should have extra forks and plates, extra beds or blankets. I think that sometimes God even leads people to buy houses with extra rooms, or to buy a van rather than a small car. What that does not give us is permission to pack those spaces with clutter and garbage, things that don't work, things we never really needed. (I do know people whose garages are piled high with donations collected for others, or whose pantries are stocked against emergencies, and those are different matters. One point Marie Kondo makes is that even hospitality or disaster supplies should be kept current and useable, and checked regularly for mildew, mice, moths, whatever.)

Finally

I read a comment that blamed Marie Kondo for causing a recent increase in the amount of stuff given to thrift stores and thrown in garbage dumps. That's like criticizing a weight-loss trend for a resulting downturn in fast-food revenues. And if there is a glut of donations right now, I think it's due more to demographics than KonMari. Baby Boomers are all downsizing, and their kids don't want their stuff.  Drastic dumping is a sad symptom of our consumerist culture, but it may be the only way some people can get free and start fresh. Don't blame Kondo for overstuffed houses; just thank her for getting them cleaned out.

Is decluttering only for the wealthy? (How to be a better materialist)

Minimalist blogger Joshua Becker recently linked to a Wall Street Journal article about Baby Boomers downsizing. The story seemed to be aimed at upscale readers whose biggest downsizing headache is selling off their art collections.

On the other end of the scale is this blog post at This Simple Balance: 8 Tips for Decluttering on a Low Income (from a mom who's been there). This writer points out the difficulty of asking "Does this bring joy?" when the bigger concerns are "Is this still functional?" and "What if we can't afford another one?"

Our family lived on one income for a long time, and then on even less as we moved to self-employment. We did go through tight-budget, don't-say-no-to-anything times, especially when the kids were young and seemed to need different-sized shoes and clothes every time we turned around.

And even that, compared to serious poverty in this country and overseas, was really nothing. We still had lots of clutter and overload, partly because we got too good at scrounging, and partly because we figured we would eventually find uses for stored stuff. (Often we did.) We were also holding on to many childhood and family items.

So are minimalism and decluttering only options for those who don't have to get anxious about living with less, or about giving away possibly useful things?

I agree with This Simple Balance that some minimalist maxims and strategies work better for those who have more choices. But everybody needs a little of what Amy Dacyczyn calls "margin": clear spaces around things and events, so that we appreciate them properly.  And we may actually benefit when we use our imaginations to repurpose things, or our generosity to share them.

Many of us have stories of our children, or ourselves as children, cherishing one toy, or improvising playthings. When our oldest was a toddler, she used a kitchen chair as her toy stove, with a few yard-saled toy pots. A few years later, we found a large plastic "play kitchen" on Kijiji for her younger sister. Yes, they played with it, but it was an eyesore in the room, and it was always a mess. Then there was even more stress when they outgrew the thing and we suggested passing it on. That would never have happened with a kitchen chair, right?

We also need to claim the right to say "enough," no matter what our income. Someday, sooner or later, the whole economy could change so that we can no longer easily access consumer goods. We might be trading chicken eggs for plumbing work, and making over old clothes because we can't get new ones.  But even then, we have the right to live with, use, and enjoy just enough, and to say no to whatever multiplicity we're stepping on and tripping over. We should feel free to be That Family or That Person, the ones who always sing the same songs, play the same card game after meals, or stop at the same deli on weekends. Maybe your grandchildren will remember your one and only cookie recipe, or your beat-up hat. Call those things quirks, call them traditions, call them your signature item; but don't call them bad things. The author of Affluenza says that if we were a truly materialist (vs. consumerist) culture, we would resist buying new old couches and coats, because we're so fond of the ones we have.

For a few of us, choosing to live with less may start with trimming down the artwork. For others, it's cleaning out the basement once and for all. But the key seems to be, not idolizing, but learning to cherish.

New page: Summer Project 333 Clothes

Season: Summer 2018 (for as long as it lasts)
#project333 (link to Courtney Carver's home page)

Édouard Manet, "Carnations and Clematis in a Crystal Vase"

Here's the rest.

Do you want a limited special edition?

Two years ago, I posted a quote from Charlotte Mason on the benefits of owning a cherished, worthwhile collection of something, vs. the continual acquisition of mindless "collectibles." For some of us, a desire to "collect them all!" began with our first commercials for breakfast cereal (with toys), and moved on from there.

Buster Baxter (unwrapping a Christmas gift): Cool, it's CyberCod!
Bitzi: I'm sorry, Buster. We can return it.
Buster: (confused) Huh? Why?
Bitzi: Because you already have that one. See? (holds up a figure that looks similar, but decidedly not the same) I found it in your room right after I bought the other one.
Buster: That's TechnoTrout, Mom. He's very different. He has a speckled belly and he doesn't have CyberCod's kung-fu feet. (He demonstrates.)
Bitzi: Oh, thank goodness!
 (Arthur's Perfect Christmas)

In Goodbye, Things, Fumio Sasaki tells about a short-lived craze in Tokyo when the transit system offered a special anniversary edition pass. The card didn't offer any more benefits than a regular pass, but people still lined up for hours trying to get one. Sasaki decided to "pass" on it.

He also gives this very C.M.-resonant piece of advice: "Discard any possessions that you can't discuss with passion." Obviously, there are exceptions to this sparking-joy idea; many things are more functional than passion-provoking. But those things that we choose to keep around us, that we use to help tell our stories--they should have meaning.  And the worst offenders are things we keep because they make us appear trendy or intellectual or rich or cozily domestic. If we let them go, we might have to admit we're not any of those things. Big ouch.

What if we decided to detach, just a little more, from "collect them all?"

What if...we decided to be comfortably ourselves, and started to see the humourous side of our innocent but humbuggish attempts to "be somebody?"

Because each of us is, already, a limited special edition.

Frugal finds and fixes: Yard sales, wind storms, and earthquakes

Fixes: People in southern Ontario are starting off this weekend with lots of unexpected fixing ahead, after strong winds crashed through yesterday (up to 122 km/hr where we live). Trees blew down behind our apartment building, and we could see shingles flying off roofs in the neighbourhood. In Toronto, balcony furniture was seen flying through the air, and the roof blew off a school (there were also fatalities because of downed power lines). We had similar tree damage a couple of times at our old house, and it's not easy or cheap to deal with.

The only thing we had damaged here was one of the car ramps we had stored on our balcony (used for oil changes, not on the balcony). It fell over when the winds started up, and a piece broke off, but Mr. Fixit was able to re-glue it. That's pretty minor compared to what others are dealing with after the storm (and in other situations like flooding in New Brunswick and volcanoes in Hawaii). 

Finds: Street sales are starting, and in spite of the mess left everywhere this morning, there were lots of people out enjoying the warm weather. I found a Daytimer the same size as my planner (so the Bible cover can go back on my Bible), and a pair of earrings. The Daytimer was two dollars, and I actually bought it just for the paper and dividers inside it. Half-size filler paper is hard to find here, unless you go to the expensive office-supply store. Walmart used to carry it, but I haven't seen any there for awhile. Anyway, I cleaned up the cover and then decided that I like it as is; so I got more than I expected for my two dollars.

Finds: The one thing I'm not interested in right now at yard sales is books. I see enough of those at the thrift store. Here's one that came home recently: The Invention of Clouds, by Richard Hamblyn. It's about Luke Howard, the amateur meteorologist who gave the clouds all their Latin names.

E-book reading: I had to wait awhile to be next in line for Goodbye, Things: The New Japanese Minimalism, by Fumio Sasaki. I wasn't sure how much relevance to expect from a lifestyle book written by a single male thirtysomething, and translated from Japanese.  However, it was one of the better short books I've read recently on what we expect our stuff to do for us, and why we keep chasing down more of it. The author referred several times to the Great East Japan Earthquake in 2011, and how that affected his own and others' attitude toward possessions. (He points out that his previously large book and camera collections could have been dangerous in such an earthquake.) In comparison, I recently read a twenty-year-old (thrifted) book about the simplicity journey, and I could barely get through it--too preachy. (So you know I don't recommend every minimalism book that comes along.)

Finds, again: I have been very lucky lately, finding summer clothes at the thrift store. I am putting a Project 333 list together, to be posted near Victoria Day. (In a couple of weeks.)

In the meantime, this is my happy find for this week: a chambray shirtdress, that was even more of a bargain than it might have been, because it was tagged as a shirt instead of a dress, and priced accordingly. It's a short shirtdress, okay? Anyway, this one also has sort of a patience-pays-off moral attached. I had been wanting a dress like this for awhile, because they're so useful: you can wear them closed, open, layered, whatever. The discount store next to our building has shirtdresses for about twenty dollars, and I looked at them a couple of times when I was over there getting milk, but I never got around to trying one on. They looked sort of flimsy, and I kept thinking about people sewing those dresses overseas. Please note that I have bought shoes, hats, and other things there, and even the occasional t-shirt or sweater over the years, so I'm not trying to get all sustainable-purist about it; but something about those particular dresses just didn't seem right, and I didn't feel right about buying one. 

And then this one, a better brand, turned up at the thrift store for a quarter of even the discount-store price. Plus it has a pretty floral pattern (hard to see in the photo, you have to look close). 

So, worth the wait.