Question Everything

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A while back, I celebrated my 32nd birthday.  I'm not a big birthday person in terms of celebrations or big get togethers. I prefer my birthday be a time for reflection, for rest and re-filling my tank, and for thinking about my next year in a meaningful way.

Not the most flattering angle, but damn are we happy to be in the redwoods!

As the first gift to myself, I planned a long weekend for Cam and myself up in Humboldt County.  We stayed in a small studio on a farm in the college town of Arcata, and then spent our days in one of my very favorite places on earth: Prairie Creek Redwoods.

This is one of the few places in the world containing miles and miles of virgin Coastal Redwoods. To stand next to a 2,000 year old 350 foot tall living thing is to be humbled and feel awe like you can't imagine.  I've also determined that Redwoods are my spirit animal, so it felt good to spend quality time with my tribe :)

The second big wish I had for my birthday was for Cam and I to sit down and look, in detail, at our personal finances. I joyfully dubbed this night "The 1st Annual Fortin Family Financial Summit."

I've not written about money matters on the blog before, but my passion for minimalism has always been inextricably linked to personal finance.  My journey began in 2009 with desire for more meaningful work which led me to leave my corporate job and the associated corporate paycheck (aka: I was broke).  With far less cash on hand, I had to drastically increase my standards for every purchase, large or small.  This meant reevaluating habits I'd picked up in high-earning days as well as more under the radar habits I'd had my entire life. 

In other words, it was Through Minimalism that I learned to question everything.

Financially speaking, there are cultural assumptions that are made for us and ingrained into us from birth:

• Work until you are 65.  

• Upgrade your phone/computer/tv as soon as you have space on your credit card.  

• Save 5% of your annual income. 

• Buy as big a house as your mortgage lender says you can afford.  

• Treat yourself to luxury goods and services -- you've worked so hard, you deserve it.  

• Buy your kids the newest toys for each birthday and holiday, that's how you show love.  

• Constantly revamp your wardrobe, you need to keep up with the newest trends.  

These messages are sent to us constantly via advertising, but they're also taught to us in school and pervade most new sources.  When we're constantly fed these opinions they gain the weight of fact; they seem unavoidable, inalterable.  

But as we all learn by living simple, gentle lives: it's not true. You get to choose your life and you get to decide how you spend your time and how you spend your money.  

This is a gratuitous photo of my handsome husband with a mushroom the size of his head.

Let's take Retirement Calculators as an example.  

These are meant to be completely unbiased, strictly mathematical tools to give you a clear picture of your retirement.  If you visit the websites of some of the most respected financial institutions in the US you'll find the impenetrable assumptions that total strangers have made for you.  

• Many calculators don't let you enter a savings rate above 25%.

• Some give you an "error: invalid" message on living more than 40 years after you retire.   

• My own retirement accounts are with a bank who won't let me say I want to spend less than 60% of my current income in retirement and prohibits me from entering an age younger than 50 for when I plan on retiring.

And while those above assumptions seem reasonable enough, there is something maleficent lurking below the surface.  When enough people begin to say something is impossible (saving 71% of your income, not producing any trash, retiring at 30) that begins to seem true.  And when things seem impossible, we begin to give away our power, believing we cannot control what we own or how we spend our time or money. 

This calculator, for example, maxes out at $60,000 saved annually, no matter your level of income.  It further won't let you spend less than 60% of your current income in retirement or retire earlier than 50 not matter what.

The first thing Kyle and I do with our clients is get an understanding of how they most want to feel in their space and the highest values they would like their home to support. We cannot walk in and say "get rid of this plate" or "you must keep that painting" because we know that every person, family, and home is unique.  

After this introductory fact-finding, we assess each and every item with fresh eyes, determining whether it should stay or be donated based on how well it serves those highest values and desire.  

With expenses, as with stuff, the first step is to question everything.

That is the strategy that Cam and I are practicing in our finances now -- starting from a place of compassionate curiosity and questioning everything that we're spending money on.  Try starting from scratch without any of these limitations or beliefs.  Dream up your own ideal future and then reconstruct your finances with that vision in mind.

For me, the journey to personal finance devotee has been -- wait for it -- fun, joyful even. When I was making and spending a lot of money in my corporate days, I dedicated most of my waking hours to something I hated in order to buy things that meant very little to me. When I decided to leave the misery and the money of corporate work behind, for the first time I had a clean slate to determine exactly what a good budget for myself might be.

As I delved into minimalism, I was constantly asking myself: "Can I live without this?", "Does this really bring me joy?", and "Is this something that I actively am choosing for myself or just something that I've always done?" This line of questioning can be applied to anything: habits, relationships, stuff, spending, all of it.

Moral of the story: Question Everything.

Want to learn more?  Check out some of my favorite personal finance resources:

• Mr. Money Moustache

• The Frugalwoods

• Your Money or Your Life.

Friends in the news!

Lastly, a huge congratulations to Joshua Becker of Becoming Minimalist on his new book The More of Less.  We pre-ordered this book a while ago, knowing it would become a crucial part of our own micro-library.  We wholeheartedly recommend to anyone looking for both inspiration and compassion on their journey to becoming a minimalist! 

New Minimalism + Sunset Magazine

Hello dearest readers,

Kyle, here to share an exciting announcement with you!

New Minimalism has had the pleasure of working with Sunset Magazine in a variety of ways over the past year.  We realize that while we have Instagram'd these events, we never fully explained them to you, our faithful readers.  So here is a little background:

Last fall, we were hired by Sunset Magazine's Creative Director to declutter her home office and art space at her family's adorable bungalow in the East Bay.

A peek at our decluttering project with Sunset's Creative Director

Soon after, the team at Sunset was gearing up to relocate from their infamous, pastoral Menlo Park headquarters to a new, urban office in Oakland's vibrant Jack London Square.  Their offices in Menlo Park were spacious (think Mid-century modern California campus, surrounded by lush gardens, and towering Redwood trees); most of the employees had private offices with extensive built-in bookcases.  Naturally, over the 60 years that Sunset inhabited the space, items had, well, accumulated.  The future move to an open-concept, shared workspace in Oakland was daunting, to say the least.  

Enter New Minimalism!  During our 3 hour workshop with the editorial staff, we first visioned the future space together and then explained our 5 most-relevant philosophies as applied to Sunset's current situation.  The workshop went amazingly!  The Sunset team was so engaged, thoughtful and inquisitive (I mean, really, a bunch of first-class journalists are the best students anyone could ask for).

After the workshop, Sunset wrote a series of blog posts on the subject!  We were so honored that the content resonated and that Sunset was assimilating our ideas.  If you missed those posts, you can view them here:

Sunset's Great Clutter Challenge

10 Tips for Clutter Control

Overcoming Attachments

And finally, we were mentioned in the print, in the December 2015 issue!  Cary captured it perfectly on Instagram when she wrote,

"This little blurb represents a huge dream come true! Discovering Sunset was one of my favorite things about moving to San Francisco in 2008. It's been my favorite periodical, my ultimate guide, my top source for all dream images and phrases... To see our business mentioned on its pages is just magical."

THE BIG NEWS

Which leads me to the present day news that is oh, so exciting...

New Minimalism has been invited to speak at Sunset's annual Celebration Weekend on May 14th & 15th!  

Celebration Weekend is a HUGE event with hundreds of vendors, influential speakers and tastemakers.  The goal of the event is to essentially bring the magazine to life.  What's even more special is that this year marks the debut of Sunset's new Test Gardens in Sonoma, CA!  Historically, the event has been held at the Menlo Park campus.  And since relocating to Oakland, Sunset has opened their new Test Gardens and Test Kitchen in Sonoma.  It will be exciting and new for everyone!

Cary and I will be speaking at 12:15pm on Saturday and Sunday, at the Home Stage.  Our topic: 5 Tools to Create an Inspiring, Minimal Home.  You can view the entire Presentation Schedule here.  

If you live in the Bay Area, and would like to join, you can buy tickets here.  (Some of the tickets are already sold out, so don't delay!  Here is a link describing the different ticket packages.)

GIVEAWAY

And our final announcement - we want to share the love with you guys, and are giving away a complimentary pair of General Admission tickets for Saturday, May 14 to one lucky reader (General Admission tickets for Saturday are already sold out online).  

How to enter?  Simply comment below on this post, describing why you would like to attend!  We will announce the lucky winner on Friday, April 22.  GOOD LUCK ! ! !

So. Much. Stuff.

The iconic Golden Gate Bridge framed by our street (and our moving truck).  I loved that this view welcomed us home each night.

Big announcement: Cam and I moved!  

Not very far -- as the crow flies it's only about 12 miles north of our (now previous) apartment.  But it still feels like a big move; from San Francisco, with a population of 825,000, across the Golden Gate Bridge to a pastoral valley town of about 12,000.  

We made this move for a host of reasons, but the main motivation was to be closer to nature and to have more space now that we both work from home with frequent conference calls (I took more than one call from our bedroom closet last month). 

The little bungalow we found to rent fit all our needs: sunshine, outdoor space, LAUNDRY (I don't when I'll get used to how awesome this is), and a garden for our beloved plants and now, to grow vegetables!

I'll tell you more about this awesome space (with photos) soon, but for now I need to get something off my chest.  

There is never a time when we are more aware of the psychic burden and physical weight of our stuff than when we have to literally move it.  

Pack it.  Label it.  Stack it.  Lift it.  Carry it.  

Worry about it breaking.  (Secretly hope it all breaks.)  

Bring it up stairs.  Haul it down the hallway.  Unpack it.  Find a new home for it.

And I cannot tell you how many times in the past week I have said in total exasperation,

"We have so much stuff."

All our possessions in the world (bed and plants still to come).  At this point, I was almost hoping the moving truck would lose our address so we could start fresh.

Wait a second, I thought you were a minimalist?  Aka: How did you and Cam get here, to this place of "so much?"  

My journey to minimalism uncoincidentally coincided with my move before this one (I say "I" because Cam's own venture into minimalism has it's own timeline).  Six years ago, almost to the day, Cam and I moved  into our first shared apartment together.  We were 26 and 25 respectively, just getting a sense of who we wanted to be in the world.  I didn't know it at the time, but I was entering a deep, challenging, amazing period of transformation in my life.

With the two of us moving in together as partners, finally roommate-free for the first time, we were able to define what "home" meant to us.  What values from our homes growing up we wanted to bring, what we wanted to adapt, what we wanted to invent together. 

Our almost empty apartment.  Seeing the space like this reminded me of the day in 2010 when we first saw it -- and immediately fell in love.

 Bucking our maximalist lifestyle.

Through my mid-20s I hadn't really questioned my consumer-centric way of being.  I never got rid of anything that could potentially be used or worn.  I was dragging around clothing I'd had since junior high, for goodness sakes.  I admit, I was a maximalist, believing that more was obviously  better than less.

Yet now with two people's stuff combined into one home, we were forced to start making decisions lest we suffer bruised shins from running into one of our THREE dressers (yes, we had three dressers despite our new walk-in closet).  

Did we want to live in a stuffed-to-the-brim, filled space, or could we find a way to combine our stuff into one?  Was this stuff worth fighting over?  Worth cramming into a drawer?  With this opportunity for a blank slate, was this the way we wanted to have our first home feel?

From these original discussions (and arguments) two budding minimalists were born.

Over the subsequent 2,000 days from first moving in together, we have completely changed the way we act in our space.  I'd estimate that we've sold or donated 60-70% of our stuff from that time.  In my heart and mind, I'd embraced minimalism as the type of lifestyle that best serves me, my goals, my dreams.  

Cam on moving morning in front of our silly little light blue and blonde brick building.

Enter current day: For the past several years I've operated under the assumption that our possessions were thoroughly minimized (heck, at one point I only owned 100 personal items!).  Our bathroom closet was almost humorously empty.  I had so much space in our pantry that I used it as another room, placing artful branches and family photos on the mostly sparse shelves.

And yet.  And yet...

When it came time to pack up a few weeks ago, I was blown away by how much stuff we had.  Totally floored.  

I think in moving, we were forced to take in the sum total of what we do still own.  And given my desire to be free from clutter and excess and unwanted items, it meant that every single thing I packed had to be evaluated and deemed worthy... or not.  

While it was certainly tiring (draining might be more accurate), it resulted in a big car's worth of donations and several items being given to friends (note: those whom specifically requested them:) and 5 additional bags of donations since we've gotten settled.

Lesson: We expand to fit our containers.  

Kyle and I have learned this a hundred times over with our clients, but at last I realized it happened to me as well. Essentially, it's the Parkinson's Law of space: as much space as we are given, we will fill.  

But the intentional minimalist can right-size or shrink into any chosen container (like a small backpack for a month or two carry-on bags for an entire wardrobe).  

Right-sizing into our new space.

Sneak peak of our new (rental) home: no new furniture, but fun, new feel.  Also a fireplace!

Not only did the act of moving encourage us to pare down, we've actually found that in our new, larger space we have way less storage.  (Bless the wise and practical folks of the 1930's who hadn't yet discovered walk-in closets.) 

Everything we own is no longer tucked neatly into a cavernous closet.  Nope, now almost all our stuff is out in the open, fully exposed.  So for each item we keep, we have to either effortfully and thoughtfully give it a home in our sparse storage or decide that we're ready to let it go. 

To be honest, it's the perfect spot for an I-thought-I-was-a-minimalist to put her values to the test. I will be reporting on the final product. Wish us luck!

Love is an Overused Word

When working with clients to declutter their homes, we ask a lot of questions.  We look at items through a variety of lenses to help our clients determine whether or not an item is adding value to their life (and should stay) or is no longer relevant or needed (and should be donated).  

Some of these questions include: 

• Is this a duplicate?

• If you needed it, could you use something else in its place?  

• Would you buy it again if it cost twice as much? 

• And the ever popular (yet not always effective for reasons I am about to explain) question, do you love it?

Let’s imagine we are helping a client declutter her handbags (feel free to insert "backpacks," "costumes," "electronics" or "sneakers" if those are a better fit for you).  After staging all handbags for easy decision-making, Cary holds up the first bag.  Our client responds, “I love that bag, I use it all the time.”  Ok, we put it in the keep pile.  Cary holds up a second bag and again the client says, “I love that bag, I use it all the time.”  Ok, keep pile.  Fast-forward to twelve handbags later, our client has said the same thing for all 12 bags.  

Ok, waaaait a minute.  Do you really love all 12 separate handbags?  And use them all the time?  First of all, it is physically impossible to use all 12 handbags all the time.  So let’s just remove that reasoning from the table.  

Secondly, what about the true meaning of love? It is a noun, defined as “an intense feeling of deep affection”.  Do you truly love even one handbag? Like actually love it, the way you love your grandmother?  Or your kids?  Or your pet? Would you do anything for this handbag?

When you start to use a word like “love” to describe all your handbags, how is it possible to differentiate between them?  What if it came down to having just 2 and only 2?  What if your house were on fire and you could only grab 2 handbags on the way out, which ones make the cut?  (Never mind that if your house were actually on fire I’m guessing you would ditch the handbags altogether and save the family photos!)

Marie Kondo uses the lens, “spark joy”.  If an item “sparks joy”, then it earns the right to stay in your life.  And while that lens may work for some people, others first need to define what joy means for themselves.  Doing so requires a grounded self-awareness that won’t work for the people who claim to love everything that they own.

So, let’s say you are decluttering on your own and you find yourself rationalizing that you love all your items.  What do you do then? 

At this point, you have to pivot and use a different lens to look at your things.  You have to be even more discerning. You start by slowing down, taking a deep breath, and stepping back. Reexamine your use of the word love. Give it back the power it was originally intended to have. Be selective when using it in your day-to-day life. 

Because here’s the thing - even if you love something, you can still donate it!  

I know - it’s shocking!  It is possible to concurrently appreciate the beauty and craftsmanship of an item and let someone else own it.  The act of cherishing an item and donating it are not mutually exclusive, in fact, those two acts, at their heart, are probably positively correlated. 

Because things are made to be used, and when they are not being used you are not honoring the inherent usefulness, the time and energy it took to extract those resources, dye the fabric, product the zippers and assemble the materials. 

So if you actually, truly love your 12th favorite handbag, you'll understand that you are not using it with the frequency that this wonderful bag deserves, and you'll donate it, so that it becomes someone else’s No. 1, favorite handbag that they use all the time.

Zero Waste Home + 5 Tips for Buying Bulk

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Hello lovely readers!  Kyle the other half of New Minimalism here to share some tips on buying bulk.

The other week I went to the library to check out Bea Johnson’s book, Zero Waste Home.  While I’ve been a faithful reader of Bea’s blog for several years now, I had yet to read her book and wanted to dive deeper into her lessons on sustainability.  

Bea is one of the true pioneers of sustainable living and has been a major source of inspiration for New Minimalism from the beginning.   Through determined life-simplification efforts, Bea decreased her family’s landfill-bound waste to a single jar-full per YEAR.  From her family of FOUR.  Seriously impressive.  

And while statistics like this are hugely inspiring and eye-opening to what is, in fact, possible, they can also feel unattainable.  Once we classify something as unattainable goals such as these can be easily dismissed as too drastic or extreme to apply to one’s own life.  You might reason, “my family would never go for that” or, “my roommates might think I’m annoying.”  

But one of the most enlightening parts of the book was how Bea described the way her family lived before the transformation. They were not born this way.  It took a commitment to self-education, continued experimentation and down-right persistence to transform from the typical super-consumer American lifestyle they had adopted.

How did they make it happen? 

The primary way that the family strives for zero waste is by maintaining a stringent “no-packaging” rule for all consumable items that enter the house.  Aside from cosmetics and household cleaners, most items that enter the home in packaging are food.  And Bea is a master at buying in bulk.

I love buying food from the bulk bins.  It tastes fresher, it feels good to keep my waste bins free of plastic and cardboard, and I love opening my kitchen cabinet and seeing rows of glass containers, rather than labels upon labels. But even still, I hadn’t totally reframed my thinking about it. 

Buying in Bulk

Before Bea’s book, I bought the obvious items in bulk:  nuts, grains, beans.  But now my mindset has shifted and I am aiming to replace all packaged goods with bulk options.  For example, there is a gluten-free granola that I love, but it is not sold in bulk.  In the past I thought, dang, I wish I didn’t have to buy this packaging, as if I didn’t have a choice about it.  But after reading Bea’s book, I decided to seek out the bulk alternative to my granola habit.  And guess what, there are some great granola options in the bulk section.  Same with olive oil, tahini and  and shampoo.  They have bulk shampoo, people!  

I also love the bulk aisle because it encourages me to try something new.  I recently found quinoa pasta in bulk.  We aren’t pasta eaters (don’t tell my Italian relatives), so I typically do not buy pasta, but the fact that it came without packaging in a healthier alternative encouraged me to experiment.  I used it in this simple recipe and it was a smashing success.

A peek inside my small pantry.

So I encourage you to seek out bulk foods whenever possible.  Every Whole Foods store has a bulk section.  And here is a list of some local favorites for buying bulk: Rainbow Grocery (San Francisco, CA), Berkeley Bowl (Berkeley, CA), and Good Earth (Fairfax, CA).  Also research if there is a food co-op in your city.  They are a great community to be a part of, and most co-ops have bulk sections as well.  If you are lucky enough to live in Berlin, you probably already know about the packaging-free grocery store, Original Unverpackt.

If you are new to buying bulk, here are some tips to take with you:

1. Most stores that provide bulk bins also sell reusable glass jars and cotton bags to transport your bulk items.  If those bags are not an option, use small paper or compostable bags before reaching for single-use plastic bags.

2. “Tare weight” describes the weight of the container, without the contents.  When you bring your own glass or plastic container to use in the bulk section, you'll need to have the tare weight measured before you fill your container.  Most stores with large bulk sections have an assistant available to help you here.  

3. Rather than use those twisty-ties to write the food id #, use a notepad application in your phone.  You'll just have to pay attention during checkout and tell the cashier what is what.

4. Know the size of your containers at home, so that you don’t accidentally buy twice as much as you can properly store.

5. Linger in the bulk aisle and see what catches your eye.  You may be surprised at what you find. 

An example note from my phone

Make Space for What Matters Most

*Author's note:  Today I wanted to share a more personal, complete story of how I came to be one half of New Minimalism.  Also, I am deeply grateful for my mother's current vibrant health and well-being.

The first time I ever did a major decluttering project, I didn’t have a name for what I was doing or a even clear understanding of why.  

Twelve years ago my mom was hospitalized for several weeks with a terrifying and seemingly undiagnosable illness.  My dad was doing his best to be the breadwinner for our family as well as the health advocate for my mom, parent to my little sister and brother who were at home, and optimist for my older sister and I away at college.  

I rushed home early from a term in college to find my parents’ home a functioning if hollow place. 

My little sister, still in high school, was trying to run our house, take care of herself and my brother, all while being terrified that our mom still had no diagnosis and wasn’t coming home.  My little brother, just into double digits, said upon receiving a school lunch our father had made him without the usual motherly touches (read: the wrong kind of cheese and no dessert), “You’re my favorite dad, but you’re not a really good mom.” 

After returning home from the hospital where I had spent the day with my disoriented, confused, and deeply upset mom as she received a series of MRIs and other scans, I went up to my childhood bedroom, curled up into a ball as panic and sadness washed over me.  I cried, hyperventilated, went down rabbit-holes of all the terrible scenarios that might play out. 

I felt wholly impotent and scared, powerless to make my mom healthy or to substitute for her in my fragmented family.  How could I explain to my brother what was going on when I had no idea?  How could I help with the things that really mattered: finances, insurance, treatment plans -- when I was barely an adult myself?   

And yet I needed to do something.  I needed to feel like I was making at least one small thing better.

So I went down to the basement of our old 1913 farmhouse and looked around.  A month's worth of dirty towels, sheets, clothing, my brother's sports uniforms -- they were spilling out of our massive hamper on onto the floor.   Laundry.  That was something I could do.  

As I slowly chipped away at the mountain of laundry, I felt better.  Just a tiny bit lighter and inspired to do more.  If I couldn’t fix the big things, I reasoned, at least I could somehow make life a little easier for everyone. 

Looking around our dark, crowded basement I decided to start with all of the stuff there. 

As so often happens with families, our basement had become a zone of cast-off hobbies, outgrown clothing and equipment.  

Many of these items had been passed down through all four of us, had been well used and loved.  And most of it was ready to go.

For five days, any time I wasn't at the hospital or getting dinner ready for my siblings, I worked in the basement and was able to donate of three huge SUVs worth of stuff to our community rummage sale.  Everything else in the basement suddenly fit on the shelves, like-with-like, orderly, good, calm.  I could breathe a little deeper still. 

Looking at the washer and dryer in corner, I was struck by the sheer number of loads of laundry my mom had done for us in the 20 years we’d been in the house.   All of the hours spent in the dark, musty, old basement just to take care of us... 

This, I knew, was my turn to be the one taking care of my mom.

So I went to the hardware store, selected two shades of paint that I hoped would transport her from the basement to somewhere softer, warmer, easier.  Then I hung a few of my parents prints from Jamaica on the walls and placed a brightly striped rug for the floor — and ta da!  Just like being in Negril (not really, but I tried:). 

A few weeks later, my mom returned from the hospital with a clear diagnosis and path to health.  As I showed her around the basement, I was suddenly self-conscious.  

It seemed so clear when the two of us were together that this project had just been a way for me to channel anxiety while unable to do something that really mattered.  But my mom loved it.  She understood my desire to show her my love, to care for her in some way, to make her life a little brighter and easier.

The Telander Clan:  My parents, sisters, brother and me before my little sister's wedding.

Over the years my aesthetic has matured (and by that I mean I teamed up with Kyle!), and the speed with which I help others declutter has increased exponentially, but at my core, the reason I do what I do is the same reason I decluttered and elevated my parents' basement:  

To make things easier when they are hard.  To lighten burdens, to lift spirits, to open space for happiness and creativity.  I find it an honor to bear witness to the things that people part with, to celebrate their rediscovery of an item they deeply love, to support them through the challenges of the process, and to shepherd them into a new phase in their lives.  And to give a small piece of my love.

There are so many things in this life that we cannot control, so many joyful and challenging times that arise unexpectedly, so much mess associated with life in general.  At New Minimalism it's not that we're trying to control life so that nothing out of the ordinary ever plays out.  We’re actually clearing a stage so that the real, meaningful events and relationships can receive the attention and focus they deserve (I love you mom:).

When It's Time to Let Go

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Last week I donated two items which had both been really important to me in the past.

The first was a pair of shoes.  Not just any pair, my original "fancy" work heels.  

I purchased them on a mid-day shopping trip to Neiman Marcus with my former boss/first real mentor.  She had demanded that we take a shopping break in the midst of an all-consuming trial preparation month to "clear our minds."  We'd been working 12 hour days for weeks.  We deserve this, she insisted.

And to be fair, in 2009 I was all about shopping.  3% of my income was being directly diverted into my 401(k), almost half of each paycheck went to rent, and they rest went straight into my "entertainment fund."   Said fund was emptied each month in the form of clothing, purses, iPods (I know, I'm really dating myself), and breakfast/coffee/lunch/happy hour/dinner/drinks out.  All of which is to say she wasn't exactly twisting my arm.

She bought Manolos, I bought Cole Haans with Nike Air technology.  They were more expensive than any clothing item I'd ever owned and were purchased with my own hard-earned money from my real-adult corporate job.  

(Side note: I don't have a single photo of "Corporate Cary."  Is this because our phones didn't yet function as cameras or because I've never felt less like myself than in a pantsuit?)

Fast forward to today. 

Everything else from this time in my life is loooong gone -- all my suits, conservative silk tops, briefcases, tolerance for being yelled at by people who don't even know my name, etc. 

But the shoes...  After two years of them collecting dust at the top of my closet I knew I was never going to wear them, yet I was really struggling with the thought of letting them go.  I felt like they represented this whole period in my life, a point of pride, an old mentorship.  

These shoes symbolized to me that I was an independent, adult woman. 

The second item was a kelly green Diane Von Furstenberg dress.  I purchased this dress (using a Bloomingdale's credit card I signed up for to get 20% off -- oh how I've changed!) also in 2009 as a potential bridesmaid dress for my older sister's wedding.  

To date, I've worn it to just shy of a dozen weddings and have celebrated the nuptials of some of my favorite people in the world while wearing it.  I wore it in Montana, Tennessee, New Mexico, Chicago (twice), NorCal and SoCal.  I wore it while I danced with my best friends, when I celebrated with my family.  

So how on earth could I let these memories go?

For exactly that reason: my memories ARE NOT my stuff.

It's easy to confuse the two.  

To conflate the experience you had with what you were wearing when it occurred.  

To think that the joys of a trip are wrapped up in a souvenir.  

But those precious memories are far more resilient and powerful than that.  The things that happened in your life cannot be taken away or thrown out in the trash.  They are real.  And no matter how much or how little "stuff" you have in your life, that will always be true.   

As with the case of my precious shoes and dress, it's not that I wanted these things for their functions, they were worn out and no longer my style.  What I wanted was to preserve the memories I associated with them.  

So how do I know when it's time to let go?

1. It's either a "Hell Yes!" or it's a no.  One of my favorite pieces of advice ever comes from Derek Sivers and it's another way of creating incredibly high standards.  Essentially, when you're considering whether to keep an object or agree to a commitment, you don't want the answer to be "yeah, sure" or "ok."  For something to earn precious space in your life, it needs to be a Hell Yes!  Otherwise it's a no.  For me, whenever I cannot answer the following questions with a "Hell Yes!" then I know clearly and absolutely that it's time to go:

• Does the item fit into my current life?
• Does the item reflect my current style or does it suit my current needs?
• Do I feel the ways I most want to feel when I use/wear/interact with this item?
• Would I buy the same item again right now at the same price?

2.  Take a photo.  I kept my shoes and dress because I wanted to be sure I had the occasion to jog my memory about these times in my life.  So I took a photo of each and added them to my digital album entitled "Things I love."  Now I can see those things and access those memories whenever I want without simultaneously dealing with the clutter and the stress of having things in my life that I don't enjoy anymore.

3.  Say Thanks.  It might sound silly, but sometimes what we want most when we part with items that meant a lot is to acknowledge them (ahem, like this post).  So tell the story aloud of how you acquired it, why you loved it, why you're grateful for the experience it brought you.  Then give it a little hug, say thank you (aloud), wish it well as it serves whoever uses it next.  Then let it go.  *This is how I was able to donate my wedding dress. *

So how do you know when it's time to let go?  

Have you ever donated something that used to be incredibly important to you?

The Unbearable Heaviness of Clutter

Image // via

I moved to San Francisco after only two brief visits, knowing in my bones that this eucalyptus scented city was my home.  

Sight unseen, I signed a lease on an apartment.  It had easy access to my work and, more importantly, was close to my girlfriends who were already settled in the city.  

I'd found a Craigslist gem: a ground floor five bedroom that I shared with four other roommates.  We had two bathrooms, a dishwasher, a window in each bedroom, and *gasp* a washer/dryer right in the hall.

The apartment was situated in what I imagined to be a dream locale: within blocks of a sweet little park, close to gorgeous, historic homes and right up the hill from fun, funky, vibrant strip of restaurants and bars.  

An empty parking lot next door served as the hub of our micro-neighborhood and attracted all matter of people: drum circles and hula-hoop enthusiasts, skateboarding teenagers recording each other doing tricks, a trio of kindly homeless men and their mutts.  

It felt like quintessential San Francisco, a place where vast swathes of people co-exist peacefully, where we all live and let live.  

Unfortunately, a growing group of hostile individuals were encroaching on this lovely shared space.  Slowly, other groups ceased returning to the lot.  This new group cat-called every passer by and said things to me that make me shudder to this day.  One afternoon I returned from a run to see my roommate being held up at gun and knife point at the corner of that very lot.  

The final straw occurred in the middle of a warm fall night.  My female roommate left her window a few inches ajar to enjoy the night breeze and woke up to two strange men inside her room, passing her computer out the window to a third robber.  Luckily, everyone was unharmed, but the violation of our space made it impossible for me to feel safe, even inside my own home.  

When I moved a mile across town I was worried I would miss my funky neighborhood, my roommates, my walkability to friends.  But that next morning when I walked outside of my new apartment for the first time, I realized what I had been dealing with.

I paused at the door of my building to "armour up": emotionless expression, focused posture, eyes straight ahead, prepared to ignore obscene remarks and gestures directed at me.  

I exhaled, walked outside and it was....quiet.  Peaceful.  I felt safe. 

The release washed over me.  I think I laughed.  I might have cried a little.  I let my shoulders down.  I actually looked up at the sky and saw the soft hues of a fading sunrise.  The lightness was visceral, felt throughout my body.

I hadn't realized the profound weight of that experience until I was free from it.  

Like the frog in warm water brought slowly to a boil, I'd just gotten accustomed to a way of living that I couldn't have imagined before and I would never return to now.  

The same is true of clutter.

People live with clutter because they don't actually understand the effect it takes on them.  They're so accustomed to being bombarded with visual stimuli, piles in the corners, piles on the counters, dozens of to-do's staring at them, just waiting to be done.  

You might think it doesn't bother you, but your subconscious has to armour up for these moments.  Your home, your very sanctuary, is a constant reminder of what you need to do, where you're not succeeding, all of the promises that you made to yourself and others that you're not keeping.  Even if you are not actively dealing with your clutter, your brain is working on overdrive to ignore it all being there.  

The most universal reaction from our clients after we work together is exactly that -- a casual laugh, a dropping of the shoulders, a sensation of lightness and clarity where it hadn't even seemed possible before.  It gives me the chills everytime.

Are you ready for that?  

The freedom, the release of the clutter-free life?  

Here are the 11 Decluttering Questions You Should be Asking Yourself, How to Let Go of Something You Used to Really Love and Why I Donated My Wedding Dress to get you started!

BTR: A Growing Family in Cole Valley (Part 2)

Welcome to Part 2 of the Behind the Redesign for a wonderful family in the quaint San Francisco neighborhood of Cole Valley.  New Minimalism was called in to make room for the newest member of the family, and what was standing in the way of this goal was a lot of stuff.  

If you recall from Part 1, during our first session we tackled decluttering the garage to make space for the home office.    On the second session, which we are sharing today, we decluttered the contents of the home office to make room for the nursery.  These photos share the after after, once the nursery furniture had been thoughtfully acquired and decorations installed.  All after after photos are by the talented and all around wonderful Ryan Devisser.

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Above you can see that the home-office before (left) had turned into a room not just to hold office items, but also to store things that didn't have a proper home elsewhere in the house.  As the papers started to pile up for these busy working parents, the task of clearing and sorting everything became overwhelming.  

As is so common, once the clutter became overwhelming our clients found it was easier to close the door than to sit down and sort it all.  In the after photo (right) you can see what a stunning transformation this room undertook.  Our client selected a fun teal color for the carpet tiles, and chose the brand FLOR for their commitment to using sustainable materials. The IKEA bookshelf turned on its side was purchased second-hand.

We find that all of our clients are experiencing some type of significant transition when we work with them.  In this case, a second child on the way was the perfect time to prioritize and make room for life's exciting next chapter.

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Again, the before and after shots are quite remarkable!  Before the desks were crowded with papers and extraneous office supplies.  We culled a "capsule" version of the office supplies to relocate to the new office in the garage, utilizing the yellow lamp and San Francisco map. After, the room displays playful art and a kid-friendly color palette.

A point of discussion was whether to keep the classic white Parsons desks to possibly be used in the future.  We encouraged our clients to consider the hidden costs of keeping these items "just in case."  The desks would need to be stored in a hard-to-access, already-crowded attic.  They would require time to maintain, energy to keep from being damaged as their growing family's needs changed, and the mental space to remember that the desks are there in the first place in the case that your future self has a need for said desk.  In the end, our clients took our advice and sold the desks on Craigslist.  They reported that we were relieved to send the desks to a new home and used the money towards furnishing the new nursery.

Sometimes the cost of keeping an item outweighs the cost of potentially having to re-buy that same item in a hypothetical future date.  

The crib was purchased second hand from Golden Gate Mothers Group.  Our client describes this group as a "gold mine" for previously-used, but like-new baby items.  

TIP:  If you are expecting a child, research to see if there is local mother's group in your area.  Not only are Mother's Groups a wonderful community to connect with, they also provide a wealth of information, and hey, you can even furnish your nursery without buying new!

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The closet was a big challenge because it was densely filled with many small objects.  We are amazed at the focus of these clients because we were able to sort all this on one day!   While uniform containers give the appearance of order, the contents of the boxes were no longer relevant for our clients' needs. 

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By removing some unneeded items from the entry closet (not pictured), we were able to relocate the extra jackets (shown above) that had sneakily made their way into the office closet. After, the closet is 100% dedicated to the new baby.

The dresser was also found second-hand at Golden Gate Mother's Group.  We love that our clients took to heart our design suggestions.  How beautiful is this space?!  And hardly anything in terms of baby furniture was purchased from the store.  It takes a little effort on the back end to find your second-hand resources, but the reduced price tag and earth-friendly satisfaction is well worth it.  

This gorgeous and serene space is a testament to our clients' laser-focus during our sessions.  With the second baby on the way, they were 100% ready to let go of the items that were no longer serving them.  And they have the closets to prove it!

The Power of Paint

Kyle, the other half of New Minimalism is here to welcome you to the Chill Zen Room.  Take off your shoes, kick back and stay awhile.  This is now clearly a room to relax and unwind, but it hasn't always been this way...

When Cary and Cam moved into their apartment, they knew that the small room connecting the kitchen to the living room had great potential.  Cam dubbed it The Chill Zen Room early on, but in practice, it was serving more as a glorified hallway.  Cary asked me what we could do to  define the room from the rest of the home, to make it a stopping point, rather than a thoroughfare.  After some thought, I determined it just needed a little extra pizzazz and some key furniture replaced.  Enter, painting project! 

Changing the paint color is a tried and true strategy to completely transform a space.  If executed correctly, it has a relatively low investment for a high reward. 

Above are before and after shots of the Chill Zen Room, as viewed from the kitchen doorway.  Looking through the space and into the living room beyond, you can see how the room integrates with the rest of the apartment.   By choosing a high-contrast color, you can't help but stop and linger in the room for a bit. 

Notice in the after photo, we chose two different paint finishes in the same color.  We painted the walls a flat finish and the trim a glossy finish to emphasis the difference in depth.

The dark, earthy color creates the perfect backdrop to display Cam's incredible photography. You can view more of Cam's work at his online gallery: Steep Ravine.  The brown leather and wood tones of the furniture strengthen the ode to mother nature.

 We all agreed it was time to replace the overstuffed, circa '94 cream armchair that had followed Cam from apartment to apartment.  After a few weeks of searching, we scored this super high-quality leather loveseat on Craigslist for less than $200!   We anchored the reading corner with the wool rug, and intentionally placed it on an angle for a causal air.

Remember when starting a painting project on your own: it is all about PREPARATION.  Have patience, as this takes some time.  But once you prepare well, then painting is a breeze.  (Tip: for the most eco-friendly waste, opt for old newspaper rather than plastic drop-cloths).

So go forth, readers, and embark on those bite-sized design projects that make a huge difference in your space.  

Even if you don't choose a completely dramatic color, paint has a freeing power, symbolic with a fresh start.  And we could all use a little refresh, now and then.