Clutter: The Local Connection
My house was built in 1964; it was a “Parade Home” back then (homes shown by the builder to entice new buyers), so had some extras. It has a two-car garage and seven closets (four bedrooms). The upstairs closets are roomy, one is a walk-in. Then there's a linen closet, a coat closet and an under-the-stairs closet (we use it for toys).
Growing up, my grandmother’s house, which was built in the 30s and had two bedrooms, had two closets. Those closets were about 1/3 the size of our bedroom closets and would hold about 10 items of clothing each.
The Gainesville Catholic Worker House was built at the turn of the 20th century. It was once quite “upscale;” It has zero closets.
I know of new homes now that boast three-car garages and two walk-in closets in the master bedroom. I confess; I could probably fill those extra storage spaces in a heartbeat.
But with what? If I live “locally,” and buy necessities from locally-owned stores, how much “stuff” will I accumulate? After my first child was born, we moved to the small North Florida town where my parents had grown-up. They had moved away after high-school, never to return except for visits to grandparents. I was delighted to be able to shop at “Bruce’s”, the store owned by the parents of my mother’s best friend in high school, and at “The Lovely Shop” where she bought her homecoming gown. I bought my daughter’s first shoes at “The Children’s Shop” where my grandmother bought my first shoes. There was always a salesperson handy to find what you needed and they would alter it if needed too, for free. When a friend pointed out that I could have bought three shirts for the same price at the new K-Mart that had just been built on some old farmland, I remember thinking that I actually only needed the one shirt.
What is the difference in frugality and being cheap? I think it’s the difference between cost and price. The price of the sweatshop-produced shirt bought cheap and sold by people barely making minimum wage at a big-box store (that was just beginning to take business from the family-owned stores downtown) was low. The actual cost – in human suffering, quality, community cohesiveness, and care - was very high. Within a year of my moving to Lake City, a huge mall was built near the interstate, K-Mart was joined by Wal-Mart, and the downtown shops began to close for good (to be replaced twenty years later with country-style shops and antique stores – a kitschy ode to what was lost).
Frugality is a virtue. Buying what is needed and rewarding good workmanship with your hard-earned dollar is good. Not taking more than you need, “living simply so others may simply live”, is right. But like so many other virtues, “frugality” has been used and warped by advertising that tells us if we’re smart we’ll buy three for the price of one, the conventionally–produced tomato from Holland over the locally raised one that costs pennies more, the plastic toys at a fraction of the price of the handmade ones. We’ll get more for our dollar, if we buy where they tell us to. We’d be stupid to throw away our hard-earned money on less. Meaning fewer. Because what we really, really want is More. Because we don’t have enough as things are, we aren’t enough without more. So buy it, buy it now. And buy more tomorrow.
And be sure and build more closets. Because how many toys can a child play with anyway? And how many shirts are going to be worn or in the wash at the same time? And how many bright things that catch our eye on a down day shopping will we really put to good use? And how many things have we bought to make us happy or beautiful that didn’t quite do the job? They’re cramming closets everywhere.
I know they’re cramming mine. And if all goes well, we will be moving into the no-closet house before long. Oh my.
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