This article in the NY Times struck me as oddly familiar. The simple yet elegant space above is a tiny apartment owned by Barbara Roche Fierman, the queen of clean in NYC. She owns New York’s Little Elves, a cleaning service that is a far cry from housekeeping. Her company does the equivalent of detailing your car. While a maid may clean things you see, Barbara's employees specialize in deep cleaning those things you don't ever see like drawer runners. Yes, it's a level of cleanliness for which I hold great appreciation.
The story hit me on several levels. First - look at the pared down color palette in her home. White. White white. Hints of shimmery metal here and there. A chrome chair, a gold frame, an aluminum Apple laptop. But mostly, her space is a study in minimalism. Which doesn't mean it isn't a warm and welcoming space. Her living room? A mere 10 feet wide and virtually colorless - save for her white furnishings and drapes. Yet it's a room that begs to be used for lively conversation.
As a professional whose job it is to enter the homes of some of the city's most well-heeled, Barbara recognizes that "stuff" can own you rather than you owning your belongings. In response to what she sees as almost an illness, she has opted to have as little as possible in her own private retreat. It doesn't mean she's lacking.. it means she has exactly what she needs and no more, no less.
I'm experiencing a similar situation at the moment. I'm in the midst of a move and am employing my patented packing method (okay, not patented... but it should be!) to ensure that unpacking is a snap. The process involves the use of two overriding rules: edit and group. Editing means I don't pack any item whatsoever that isn't useful or beautiful of so supremely meaningful I can live without it. Grouping means that when you pack your drinking glasses, you pack them all in one box and only those things in that box. Each box is then labeled with the room in which it belongs and one or two words identifying what's inside said box. Sound anal retentive? You betcha. Can I unpack an entire house in a day? Yes I can, so long as my movers cooperate by placing the boxes in the correct rooms.
But as I stand here in my home with my spare bedroom partially filled with packed boxes I have discovered something. I don't notice that anything is missing. That means that I can successfully live without any item I've already packed. That's problematic for me. I like living in a super clean home with order and a sense of weightlessness. If I don't actually need the things I've packed already, did I not perform the editing task as well as I'd thought?
To rest my mind I ventured into the room and examined every box and every label. The items are all quality. They just happen to be things I only use occasionally. Things such as the rest of my cookware or my taller drinking glasses. In some cases there's a box packed with decor or another containing seasonal shoes. These aren't being missed because they are for use at another time.
Yet I can't help but feel that life might be easier and fresher if I had less, used less and needed less. "Stuff" is expensive. It costs to buy, it costs to maintain and it costs to move it. Too much "stuff" and you need a larger home just to contain it. I personally feel that nothing should be in storage unless it's a Christmas tree and the associated ornaments. If it's not part of our December decor and it's out in the garage it's clearly not that important. I don't like feeling like my things own me. I like having only things around me that I need and adore. It makes me happy. And I suspect Barbara is quite happy in her own simple yet chic East Village apartment. Her space is small yet it boasts art, fresh flowers, quality furnishings, enviable accessories and an undeniably warm appeal. I suspect she smiles each time she returns home to this well edited space. She probably shakes her head in both wonder and sympathy for those of us with "extra" things.
What's next for me? I do plan to edit again on the unpacking end if necessary. I do not believe I've packed anything fluffy and unnecessary... but if "stuff" has crept into my life that doesn't make me happy or add value to my life, it's going to go to Goodwill like trunk loads of other possessions before it. I'll keep Barbara's elegantly edited space in mind and focus on the only things in my home that really matter at all - the people I love.
