Confessions of a closet junkie

I just bought some Closet Genies (As Seen on TV!)
They’re guaranteed to solve my cluttered closet woes by giving me triple, that’s triple the amount of space for my clothes.
Wow, that’s what I need. Right now my clothes are smashed in my closet like Vienna Sausages in a can (except not as neat and without the icky jelly).
I’ve tried every device out there to organize my closet – hanging sweater holders that wilted under the weight of all my sweaters, hangers meant to hold six pairs of pants but I’ve adapted to 12, shoe racks in the back of my closet doors meant to hold one pair in each cubby but I’ve shoved two or three pairs in each, cube drawers that fit in the bottom of the closet to hold pantyhose and belts but aren’t accessible because I have to move 20 pairs of shoes to open them, you name it.
Despite purchasing beaucoup organizational devices, my closets never end up looking like the photos in the magazine articles about how to organize your closet.
The clothes are so crammed together that I can never find what I want. I keep wearing the same clothes over and over again because they’re the most accessible.
But I was convinced the Closet Genie would change my life. You just had to glance at the before and after photos on the back of the package to see how much more space the Closet Genie instantly would provide.
OK, I admit I was skeptical and, if they hadn’t cost only $1 at the Dollar Store, I wouldn’t have invested in them. How can a hanger with six holes in it triple your closet space?
It can’t. It just makes the garments hang lower, creating even more problems locating that blouse you wanted to wear with the skirt you couldn’t find. I give up.
My husband watched my struggle to organize the impossibly cluttered with a knowing smile. Glancing at the photos on the back of the Closet Genie, he announced that he had the solution to my dilemma – get rid of two-thirds of my clothes and shoes.
“The reason everything fits nice and neatly in the Closet Genie closet is because they aren’t trying to cram nearly the amount of clothes in that you are,” he concluded.
He pointed out that the closets I covet in the magazine articles have a mere six pairs of shoes, not 55 pairs. And why in the world does any human being require 17 pairs of blue jeans? he wondered aloud.
He’s right, of course. But how does one begin the painful process of getting rid of once-coveted clothes and shoes? While out of date now, they may come back in style next season. And even if I don’t have a skirt that matches that blouse now, I may come across one and wish I’d kept it.
Weeding out shoes is even more painful. I’m a shoe addict, and I adore them all, even the ones that pinch my toes or leave blisters on my heels. Discarding a perfectly good pair of shoes is like throwing out the leftovers after Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone knows the leftovers are the best.
“I saw a Discovery Channel show about people like you,” announced my son. “They’re called hoarders. They can’t get rid of anything. Eventually, they’re homes become infested with rats and their friends stop coming around and it basically ruins their lives.”
“I’m not a hoarder,” I insisted, picturing lonely old women in homes overflowing with newspapers and cats. “Call me a clothes hound, a shoe addict, a fashion maven, but don’t call me a hoarder.”
“Well, when was the last time you wore this?” he asked rhetorically because the price tag was still on the dress he was holding out.
OK, I’ve got a problem and I’m going to make a conscious effort to rid my closet of all the shoes and clothes I haven’t worn in the past year. My loss will be Goodwill’s gain. Now, if I can just avoid the temptation of visiting clothing stores and replenishing my supply…