In the recently published "Spark Joy: An Illustrated Master Class on the Art of Organizing and Tidying Up," celebrity organizer Marie Kondo goes into minute detail about her decluttering directives.
The book, a follow-up to last year's global sensation "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up," includes detailed recipes for more joyful living through her KonMari method. With ultimate respect for Kondo's goal of beauty, simplicity and perfect closets, here are a few concepts I just can't get behind:
Cut photographs out of coffee-table books. Kondo says that if you only like certain photographs in a beautiful book, it's OK to snip them out and put them in a clear plastic folder. (Many of us were taught never to cut up a book.) I'm left to assume that I should then toss the mangled book. Hopefully, after looking at the photos at a later time, she writes, you will wonder why on Earth you saved them and will eventually toss them, leaving you with no trace of that darned book.
Cover the eyes of your stuffed-animal friends when relegating them to the trash. Some may be hesitant to part with their tubs of Beanie Babies or the teddy bears that once sat in a baby's nursery. But blindfolding each animal before tossing? "Once their eyes are hidden, stuffed toys and dolls look much more like objects, and that makes it far easier to part with them," Kondo says.
Obsess over bathroom storage. She admits that keeping the bathroom and all of its accessories tidy is very challenging. Kondo hates tacky labels on things such as deodorizing sprays and toilet cleansers ("loud and ugly," she writes) and suggests you try to remove them. Good luck with that. I agree that storing toilet paper rolls in a basket or box is a nice idea, but covering them in a cloth is going a bit far.
Spend joyful hours wearing vintage school uniforms. Kondo says that if you are really attached to your school uniform, you should put it on and wallow in the sweet memories of your youth. Then you can hold onto the memories but let the plaid skirt and blazer get stuffed into the donation bag. But who can still fit into their clothes from high school?
Jura Koncius, Washington Post