Detritus De-Clutter

There is something about that time between Christmas and New Year, when the tree is still lit and full of magic, the presents have been exchanged and thankfully its 365 days before it comes around again, when there’s verve to get things done, a promise of renewal.  No mean task when there are three Olympian hoarders in the house. I should have got a skip.

Next best idea is to get a girlfriend, preferably from primary school, to ruthlessly rifle your wardrobes and laugh uncontrollably at the sequinned, slinky numbers you are still holding on to, the leather zippy things that should have gone ten years ago and asymmetrical Issey Miyake that belonged to a more experimental era.  The pile grew high on the bed, sorted into charity shop and swap shop categories. Psychedelic straggly designer knitwear is suggested for eBay. Elsewhere, the boys cull their own swag surreptitiously into black bin bags, I double my efforts by ransacking them later and removing ‘perfectly good’ hoodies and jeans, baby books, copy books, gifts they made in school, now in a quandary at whether precious mementoes should be despatched or stored.

The day went on with size 8 girlfriend, screeching hysterically ‘what on earth were you thinking?’ as I produced one vintage buy after another. It was the sound of two unrestrained mom’s with sons, who have managed to avoid a daughter’s sharp stabs at their unwitting sense of youth and basically getting  away with all kinds of purchases and forays into boho-chic, librarian chic (a Prada look we think), toffee shearling hippie-chic coats,  air hostess couture (anything tailored and navy with a Louis Vuitton limited edition scarf tied at a jaunty angle) and floaty silk/satin/chiffon for red carpet dressing (on which neither of us have ever knowingly appeared – just give it time).

The following day the beds were freshly dressed and the neat piles of detritus were arranged to give an air of order. I could at last take carefully angled photographs and see how this Daft thing worked. It seemed easy enough, I took a photo of the front of the house just in case the interior gave the impression of a squat. My location was suddenly within walking distance of everywhere you could possibly need, specifically our largest university. I uploaded and submitted, now I just had to wait for the clamour of eager tenants.