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| Image courtesy of Accessfengshui.com |
Feng Shui. That’s Chinese for spiritual spring cleaning. Having stockpiled enough clothes to clad a new model army, I felt it seasonal to shed my room of clutter and introduce some positive vibes. If only it were that easy.
As a hardened hoarder, my ability to stash and accumulate is unrivalled; letting go is the tricky bit. Faced with culling seasons of styles that could well warrant its own hunting licence, my separation anxiety is rife as even the most dated duds seem replete with special meaning.
“Not the gold lame leggings,” I plead. My sister ignores my petitions and feeds the American Apparel atrocities to a hungry black plastic sack. “I don’t think you’re capable of making good decisions,” she chides, whilst grabbing anything that doesn’t resemble girls called Margaret Howell, Chloe or Celine. I feel violated. Years of squirreling away fads and fashion, only to have my stash pillaged by the capsule wardrobe queen. Grrr...
“I’m thinking we may have to pay Oxfam to take these,” admonishes the grand elder. “Excuse me. Those fourteen bags represent the equivalent of years in time and money!” And with that I feel the heavy hand of irony wallop me in the face.
Maybe this clothing compost was obscuring my view of the big picture. According to the principles of Feng Shui (found in a book underneath a pile of cashmere sweaters), ridding oneself of old stagnant energy or ‘qi’, allows for a new flow of life experiences – and an excuse to go shopping I’d imagine. All that’s left is to organise the room to maximise love, career, health and happiness.
My wardrobe fittingly belongs in my fame sector. Although truth be told, it takes up the entire room as it doesn’t fit anywhere. Moving along.... My career area houses scores of shoes and jewellery, while my North-East ‘helpful people and travel’ section sports a Diane Vreeland biography and Time Out guides to Paris, London and New York. Despite the landfill of wedges, leather jackets and vintage dresses, it seems on some synergistic level, I’ve already been hotwired to the higher consciousness.
“I may be a pack-rat,” I state smugly, “but I’m still very in tune with the cosmos. “Is that so?” replies the wise woman. “You may want to have a word with the cosmos about these spider webs in your relationship corner then.” Ouch.
