It’s been 10 years since The Life- Changing Magic of Tidying Up was published, and for me, that’s translated to approximately 10 years of binning, buying, selling, gifting, and acquiring on loop. I admit that Marie Kondo has had a positive impact on my more minimalist life but things didn’t happen as quickly as they appeared on Netflix.
In 2014, I was inspired by Kondo’s category-by-category approach, quickly tackling each section of my flat and feeling elated as I added to the rubbish heap. I’d never been a hoarder, prioritising experiences over things for most of my adult life; yet still I managed to fill about two large bin bags of junk. Old bills and documents, clothes I hadn’t worn in years, souvenirs that didn’t ‘spark joy’, and since this was a time we were embracing the streaming era, all my CD and DVD jewel cases (I couldn’t bear to discard the discs or sleeves just yet).
I kept up my minimalist apartment and lifestyle for a short while but a couple of years later I moved to Tokyo. When you move somewhere by yourself, you crave home comforts. I brought as many things as I could in two suitcases, and family and friends sent gifts and other trinkets. Then I began to fill my new home in a way I wouldn’t have if I were in my motherland, with random items that had little day-to-day use, like anime plush toys. Being surrounded by things made me feel less lonely in a new city, and anyone who has ever been to Don Quijote will understand just how easy it is to get carried away. A few years later when my visa expired and I left Japan, I had the mammoth task of getting rid of it all. I mostly donated furniture items to friends and other new expats, and then, I’m ashamed to say, I binned whatever nobody wanted. Next time, I vowed to be more mindful of what I brought home, just like I had after my first Marie Kondo purge.
Next, I moved to the US with my spouse, and we bought things quickly and cheaply, reasoning that when we were settled down in a permanent home, we’d buy that really nice stuff that’d last forever. You know, a Lavazza Smeg bean-to-cup machine barista-style coffee at home. In the interim, a flimsy French press would do, even if granule bits ended up in each brew. Then COVID happened and we unexpectedly moved again. Shipping costs were insane, and the poor quality items in our possession did not offset them. Luckily, I sold virtually everything on Craigslist (and yes, there were a few dodgy requests), and upon reaching our next home, we swiftly replaced them with, you guessed it, more quick and cheap items till we’d ‘settled in’ and could afford nicer things. That fancy coffee machine would have to wait, and by now I also decided that an air fryer was on the domestic bucket list. The pandemic meant we were eating at home more than ever, and those two kitchen luxuries would make life easier, and more joyous, I told myself. However, it would be another few years before I’d finally get my hands on either because we had to move, one last time.
By this point, I’d become a buying and selling pro. The last few flats were all temporary, so we made sure to purchase nothing major until we knew, for sure, this was it. I returned to my home city, London, having sold everything off in the US, and I was ready to start anew and hold on tight to the Kondo ethos again.
The overarching rule of quality over quantity ensued, and that has meant going without certain items for quite some time, rather than buying a temporary fix. The air fryer was one quality item I went without for a painfully long time (I’m not a patient person). We had a full kitchen with the capacity to make most meals, so couldn’t justify buying it ahead of say, a sofa, or a dining room table. Each time we browsed the mall, I salivated over Ninja kitchen appliances, especially a double-stack air fryer that lets you cook four layers of food at once. Back home, we made chicken and veggies in the oven, and I would moan, “this could have been so much tastier, quicker and healthier in an air fryer.” Eventually, that double-stack air fryer found its way into our kitchen, and it’s the most used item we own, alongside the coffee machine. I wished we’d got it earlier, but the wait made it feel more special, and those potatoes tasted extra good. We didn’t wait as long for the coffee machine though. The long-term savings made it obvious sense to purchase the moment we moved in: having Lavazza at home means we never really buy coffee outside because, honestly, I don’t think baristas make it quite as good as we do. These were two splurge items, and with the amount of joy sparked between them, they were worth every cent.
As for the rest of the apartment, there are lower-cost material items of joy here and there. Like candles, card games, and framed prints of Japanese contemporary art. I have a ton of books, too, but they’re all borrowed from the library rather than bought. Everything else has a solid function in our lives, and the money saved on having a more minimalist home goes towards sparking joy in experiences: such as travel, gigs and dim sum with my mum. Life is unpredictable, and I’m not sure when the place will fill out again with stuff we don’t need. I just hope that when I start to feel the stress of clutter again, I’ll be quick to recognise it and work at maintaining that Kondo zen we’re blissfully enjoying a decade on.
