On Using Limited Space Efficiently (Part 1: Don’t Be a Packrat)

            My husband and I have spent the last five years living in a one-bedroom, 500-square-foot house.  We’ve made this cozy space workable... and it has taken work.  In the process of rearranging out kitchen and closets and making room for new items, we’ve learned a few tricks about using a limited space efficiently, which I’ll highlight in this and three future posts.

The first tip should be obvious: Don’t be a packrat.  

Ideally, we’d sell, give away, or trash whatever we don’t use without letting sentimentality or the feeble “but I may use it later” get in the way.  Imagine how spartain our homes would become!

            In reality, I know very few who can live up to this ideal.  For one thing, a poor or middle-class person should hang onto those extra 3M Command hooks and ball of twine and decorative stationery etc. because its economically unsound to use part, get rid of the rest, and buy more when needed.  

Furthermore, while we may manage to be minimalist in one area (our clothing, our library, our notes, our knickknacks, our technology, our kitchen appliances, our furniture, our games, our shiny bits of paper...), we often cling to belongings in other areas (same list) though some serve no purpose other than to jog memories, to show off, or to allay our guilt for buying or receiving the items in the first place.

            Unfortunately, many packrats don’t believe they are packrats—or don’t believe it’s possible to downsize their possessions.  Fortunately, most people without an OCD can be cured.  

Solving this begins in the mind with a brutally honest appraisal of one’s belongings and hoarding tendencies.  Once we’ve acknowledged the area of immoderation, we have to change the way we think about those items—to reevaluate their worth to us (from God’s perspective, ideally)—and only then can we successfully work to improve our habits.

Then, as a compromise, be minimalist where you can and, at least yearly, reevaluate your favored belongings and clear them out as ruthlessly as you can.  

• If you have acquired a plethora of items—rubber bands, twist ties, store coat hangers, etc—save only a few just in case you need them, but get rid of the excess.   
• Gift sentimental mementos to family and friends who will appreciate their meaning and who have the space and interest to make use of them.   
• Gift quality items to a charity to avoid guilt over the waste, and reuse worn items, turning them into art projects or rags... or simply throw them away.   
• If you can’t bear to part with things you don’t use, you could put them in storage after labeling the box something like “Goodwill,” “family,” or “trash.”  Then if you haven’t longed for the contents or can’t remember them after a year, deliver the box to the labeled recipient without opening it.
• I encourage book, newspaper, and magazine hoarders to go paperless (more on that in the next post).  
• Get rid of movies you rarely watch, and only buy new movies you plan to watch every year; if you only want to see a film once in a blue moon, rent it or get Netflix.
• A note to clothes and shoe hoarders--if you consider seventy tops and ten pairs of shoes “necessary,” consider that once upon a time (and in a few places today), most people had two changes of clothes and maybe a third for Sundays.  I point that out to show it can be done, not to urge you to reduce your wardrobe by that much; it makes sense to keep at least a week’s worth of clothes for both summer and winter, for slim and fat periods if your weight fluctuates frequently, and for varied levels of formality.  Still, no one would/should look down on you for wearing the same outfit more than once a month!  If you keep your wardrobe versatile, you can dress well without needing as many items, so downsize!  Keep pieces you can mix and match to make different outfits, and keep only a few shoe styles in colors that work with any outfit.

Examples

I had collected over fifty teddy bears by my senior year of high school, but their value changed in my eyes as I grew older.  Still, they stimulated nostalgia and looked so cute, I had a hard time with the idea of parting from them.  I brought two to college and, later, to my home.  The rest I went through perhaps once a year to choose ones that will go to kids at the Topeka Rescue Mission.  The rest I kept bagged in my parents’ basement until the next year I could evaluate them and part with a few more.  I made the final cut this last year, giving yet more to the Rescue Mission and those with meaning—several my late grandpa gave me—to some of my young second cousins who could love them and appreciate the connection to Grandpa.  Only a few remain with sentimental value, which I’ve asked my parents to keep for visiting grandchildren, should God grant them.

             As another self-deprecating example, during junior high or high school, my mom finally made me realize (through an ultimatum) that I was hoarding shiny candy wrappers only for the pitiful reason that they looked too pretty to throw out.  She forced me to reconsider whether I really needed them.  Though I couldn’t completely change the way I valued them, I did finally use the “trash” to make a collage, which is displayed in my childhood church’s abandoned youth room to this day where somebody, someday, will surely throw it away.  But at least it won’t be me, and I still have photographs of it.  Since then, I’ve improved that habit of mine, so I now throw out candy wrappers instead of hoarding them—with a slight pang for the pretty ones, but I can still do it.   

           You can do this kind of thing, too!

           I’ll address other methods of managing tight spaces in later posts, but the first step is to decrease the amount of stuff one owns.

On a Modest Proposal

(I’ll assure you in advance that I shall not satirically advocate eating babies!)

In accordance with 1 Tim 2:8-10, I try to keep my style relatively plain and modest to not distract anyone of the opposite gender.  Unfortunately, choosing flattering, modest clothes is a challenge, as the following, rather generous Venn Diagram illustrates:

The market is flooded with thin, ragged, and low-waisted pants (read “panty-line-revealing, inappropriately-casual, and crack-displaying pants.”  And don’t get me started on the universally unattractive skinny jeans.)  Similarly, shirts with thin material, tight cuts, low necklines, and high waistlines also abound.  The rare modest ones tend to be shapeless affairs that either resemble maternity wear or just plain make me feel like a fat blob.  

I’ve found a compromise in loose cardigans over a tighter shirt, and in ribbed sweaters that somewhat hide the details of the chest while still flattering one’s figure.  A scarf could also hide low necklines, but as I’ve only started wearing scarves instead of hats with my winter coat in the last couple years, I’m not yet ready to try scarves as a coat-less fashion accessory.

I confess that I abandon some of my modesty in summer when I must walk 30 minutes in the heat to or from work; then I may wear a tight camisole, and on the hottest days may stoop to wearing jean shorts rather than calf-length capris.  (Yes, compared with female athletes who jog about in public wearing sports bras and spandex shorts, this is more modest, but in a desire not to draw strange, male eyes, I have over the past few years taken to wearing those shorts less frequently and braving the heat and unattractive tan-lines with a t-shirt more frequently.)

Given my difficulty with easily locating clothes that are at once modest, well-made, inexpensive, fashionable, and attractive (as mentioned in my previous post), for many years, I’ve toyed with the idea of a modern clothing store specifically geared toward the modest inclinations of Midwesterners and people of faith.  

Why doesn’t this exist yet?  Not even the ubiquitous Walmart caters to this concept of modesty, which is quite widespread--at least among my acquaintance.  

Eventually, with these ideas percolating once again in my brain, I laid out my plan for such a store in my Google Drive, and only a couple days after hashing it out, my mother-in-law voiced a similar desire for such a store as we searched through at least seven shops in Wichita (Michael’s, Dress Barn, Rue12, Lane Bryant, Christopher Banks, Eddie Bauer, and Old Navy) without luck until we found the new location of Maurice’s.  That store provided me with three new tops I could wear to work.

My dream-store would carry fashionable clothing for all ages and social situations, but would never carry anything too tight or too sheer (unless, in the latter case, it’s intended to rest over another layer), nor clothing that does not adequately cover relevant body parts--which caveat would extend even to bathing suits.  All would be well-made and as inexpensive as possible.

In addition, clothing would be organized as many stores are beginning to organize jeans--by cut, color, and then size--to make shopping far, far easier.  The store would also be arranged in such a way that undergarments are tucked in opposite corners behind dividers--out of the common path and out of sight from the other gender’s area so that people can browse the edge of their area--or for gifts in the other gender’s area--without shock or discomfort.  Finally, yet still vitally, employees would be appropriately paid and well-treated by superiors.

Of course, I am not likely to act upon this plan; I have no capital, no business acumen, no retail experience, and frankly, no interest in running a store.  I do, however, hope somebody with those traits picks up the idea because I would shop there exclusively!

On Personal Fashion

I’ll readily admit I am NOT the epitome of fashion, but after my college t-shirt and hoodie days, I am rather pleased by the way I have elevated my wardrobe to accommodate age- and work-appropriate attire, which (suiting my slim budget and even slimmer interest in shopping) can often double as “smart casual” apparel.  In the process, I have developed my own personal style somewhere between traditional and trendy, aiming overall for “elegant simplicity.”  

I confess I don’t often reach the elegance to which I aspire since I typically prioritize comfort and modesty over appearance--and because self-consciousness has always made it difficult for me to significantly vary my style, even when I receive many compliments on a new look.  Skirt and slacks, for instance, make me feel overdressed, so I typically stick to khakis at work and jeans at church, venturing into a skirt or slacks for certain Sundays and sometimes for a wedding, funeral, or just on a rare, adventurous whim.  

Naturally, I steer away from “high” fashion, which often looks ridiculous and changes far too quickly for my budget.  Besides, fashion trickles to the center of the U.S. so slowly, I don’t see the point in trying.  Instead, I (try to) choose longer-lasting fashions.  Thus, in lieu of my camp t-shirts and ballet t-shirts and Goodwill-closet finds (basically, in lieu of oversized, print-covered t-shirts), I’ve acquired solid-color t-shirts with feminine cuts and high v-necks which suit work as well as more casual settings.  Similarly, instead of shapeless hoodies, I can now choose from an array of more flattering sweaters and cardigans that serve the same dual purpose.  I also have several dressier shirts of various cuts and styles.  Still, other than a few lacy-topped camisoles for layering effects and improved modesty, I avoid ruffles, lace, and cuts that I suspect will soon fall out of fashion.  

To my annoyance, I struggle to find clothes that are at once well-made, modest, inexpensive, and attractive; I can typically find only two or three out of four.  However, I’ve learned I can find the best casual clothes at Walmart and work clothes at Maurice’s—and occasionally at Kohl’s and with Walmart’s George brand.

Shoes are another point of difficulty for me; I must have peculiar feet, for comfortable shoes are hard to find, and comfortable, stylish shoes are even rarer.  Furthermore, I think very little of current shoe styles—particularly dress shoes.  I despise the unflattering way those ubiquitous flats expose the base of the toes (though I reluctantly own both a brown and black pair, since after months of searching multiple stores in Hutch and Wichita, I could not finding any other dress shoes to match my skirts).  I also feel self-conscious wearing fashionable boots, though some look rather nice on other people (and I privately admire what my husband derogatively calls “hooker boots”—though the items would not complement anything in my wardrobe).  Because of this difficulty, all of my shoes are compromises that sacrifice comfort (my black sneakers and snow boots), appearance (my dress shoes), price (my hiking shoes), or durability (my flip flops). 

As for jewelry, in keeping with my simple style, I wear only my wedding ring, and when dressed up, the diamond cross necklace Daddy got me.  Similarly, my waist-length hair I just part in the middle and may bind at the nape of my neck in a pony tail or braid, or twist into a low bun or half pony-tail.  With a little effort, I can also stuff it into a modified French twist secured with a larger claw clasp.  I can achieve all these styles in less than two minutes if I'm in good form. 

My fashion sense is simple, and my wardrobe has undoubtedly improved, but I do still dither over combinations of tops and bottoms and what to wear for certain occasions.  Also, physical comfort on hot days still requires an uncomfortable sacrifice of modesty.  In all, though, I’m comfortable with my simple style, and I feel confident that most of my clothes modestly flatter me—and since a girl’s confidence in her clothes transfers to confidence in public, this is invaluable a for a self-conscious person like me.