Every book lover in the Rochester area knows that entering one of our Barnes & Noble stores is being lead willingly into temptation—which once in a while it might also lead to our redemption.

Last Saturday, as I walked through the Barnes & Noble in Pittsford to attend the local meeting of the Jane Austen Society, I saw what appeared to be the last copy of Marie Kondo’s best-selling book, “the life-changing magic of tidying up: the Japanese art of decluttering and organizing.”

Hmm, I thought.

Two of my Bedford Circle Tea Ladies had recently mentioned the book and how wildly popular it’s become. Curating, by definition, includes editing and organizing. Most important, anyone crazy enough to go into business for herself and establish a museum of collections need to get her life in order first.

Maybe I should take a look at this book, I thought, especially since it’s the only copy.

I picked up the small hardback, flipped through it, held onto it all through the JASNA meeting, and then headed straight to the checkout.

I couldn’t find any way to rationalize a stop at the cookbooks or the magazines or especially the used book section, while I clutched Kondo’s self-help book. Giving into temptation seemed outright contrary to my nobler self-improvement intentions.

I spent most of last Saturday evening reading through the book and developed a relationship with the author almost immediately. As I revisited the book for a few minutes each evening this past week, my feelings toward Marie Kondo and her approach intensified.

I definitely developed a love-hate relationship with her.

While I appreciate her penchant for order, I shudder at her edict to discard, discard, and then discard even more. Her advice is physically painful for a committed collector like me.

She does emphasize one point throughout her work that I must admit applies to collecting: The things we own should “spark joy” in us, or they should be discarded.

Kondo writes, “…the best way to choose what to keep and what to throw away is to take each item in one’s hand and ask: ‘Does this spark joy?’ If it does, keep it. If not, dispose of it.”

In other words, she says we must feel a “thrill of pleasure” when we touch the things we own.

I freely concede that her criteria, as she calls it, for keeping some things and culling others suits collections perfectly. In most cases, the things we collect are revered as collectibles and not used as functional items, so we should feel that “spark of joy” when we encounter them.

Of course, some people actually use what they collect, like holiday dishes, barware, and some vintage tools. However, I suspect they are able to use them because they collected them first. They could have bought merely functional items; instead, they chose such items because of their non-functional qualities.

For example, no one who comes to my house says, “Oh, you have a tablecloth on the table,” but a lot of guests say, “Oh, what a beautiful vintage tablecloth. I remember my grandmother had one like that on her kitchen table.”

Most collectors, however, don’t actually use the items in their collections. They treat the pieces in their collections like treasures and either display them or store them. That means the items are either decorative accessories or clutter, so Kondo’s process readily applies to curating our own collections.

If our so-called treasures don’t actually spark joy in us, why keep them anyway? How can we supposedly treasure things that don’t move us anymore?

If we value them so much that we pack them up and can’t enjoy them, do they really have value for us? If our things are boxed up, how can we experience the “thrill of pleasure” that they are supposed to bring us?

Although it almost kills me to say it, letting go of the collectibles that no longer thrill us or bring us joy might just be the way to go. Additionally, Kondo’s approach includes recognizing when our possessions have served their purpose and being able to send them off.

If we give away, donate, or sell the pieces in our collection that we’ve outgrown, so to speak, we not only allow others to find joy in those things. We can also free up space in our homes and have more room to put our real treasures on display around us, which is the best we can do until I get The Collectors of Western New York established.

Kondo’s art of tidying up and bringing order to our homes—and to our collections—might just be a self-help book that truly helps and redeems us from our misguided ways.

Happy Collecting—and Curating!

Patti
The Committed Collector

How about you? Do you carefully curate your collections, or do you hold onto pieces that no longer “spark joy” in you? Leave a comment, please, and let us know how you decide what to keep and what to let go of.

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