Cosmic chaos and the Konmari method

I'm a sucker for self-improvement. And I'm also really untidy. Which means that I really, really love a self-help tidy-up book. I adore Flylady, am an adherent of UFYH, I've read Julie Morgenstern, Kim and Aggie, Cheryl Mendelson and Dawna Walters (even now I sometimes dream about taking all the contents of my house, putting them outside, and then crying on Dawna's shoulder), I've drooled over Martha's austere New England hideaway (her laundry room! have you seen her laundry room?), got militant with Kathy Peel and even had a fling with Anthea Turner and her perfect housewife ways.

(You know, writing all that, it does seem that I've had a bit of an infatuation with these tidy goddesses. And yes, unfailingly, it's women who write about domestic order.)

So it's not surprising that I've now fallen under the spell of Marie Kondo. Big in Japan - and now globally - Marie is a domestic diva with a difference. Perhaps its the cultural differences, but she has a very different way of thinking about our possessions. Like saying thank you to things that you throw away for the lesson they've taught you or for serving you well. Not balling up socks because they want to rest when you put them away. But it's nice, and actually, saying thank you makes it less painful when you have to let your things go. Today, for example, I discovered that my first pair of Camper shoes have started to degrade at the heels (rubber soles, what do you expect). I hated the idea of letting them go but after thanking them for everything they'd done, it was surprisingly easy to do the deed.

There was one weird thing happened though... Marie tells you to get all the items of one sort together. In this case it was shoes. Then she says you have to wake up their energy/spirits by stroking them or clapping above them. So I had my bed covered in shoes, and started clapping above them. I told them what I was going to do, and thanked them all collectively. And my dog went TOTALLY NUTS. He was whimpering and barking and leaping about. He ran out the room then came back. He wanted to look at the bed and out of the window. I was seriously freaked out.

Seriously.

Anyway, I got over it, put the dog in his crate and set to work deciding which shoes I really loved. It was good. I got rid of maybe a quarter of the shoes I have and am going to lose more as they wear out. It felt nice. It wasn't too challenging. I liked seeing all my shoes in one place.

Tomorrow I might (MIGHT) try to do my tops.  *gulp*

What would Betty do?

This new book, Popular: Vintage Wisdom for a Modern Geek by young author Maya van Wagenen looks like a great read. I'm such a sucker for these old-fashioned etiquette and style guides. I don't usually go quite as far as Ms V-W in putting the tips into action - but I'm willing to give it a go!

I remember my Mum had an old 'how to be beautiful' book from the 1960's - complete with a cover picture of blue eyeshadow and a scary set of false eyelashes - and the one piece of advice I can remember from it was "Never wear the same pair of shoes two days in a row".  Now, at the time (I must have been 9 or 10) I think I only had one or two pairs of shoes, so this advice seemed like it came from outer space! I mean, what would I wear to school if I couldn't wear my Clarks school shoes every day?

Clearly, not much has changed. I pretty much do wear the same shoes daily. And they've not changed much either...

See what I mean? They're certainly comfy, but I don't think Betty would approve of a supposed grown-up wearing such ridiculous shoes.

So, in the spirit of Betty Cornell's Teenage Popularity Guide, I'm going to put on actual proper shoes. With heels. And tights. Yup. In the daytime. AND wear them for the rest of the day.

Ready?

*Drumroll....*

Ta-da! What do you think? And what would Betty think?

Well, let me tell you what I learned...

It turns out, changing your shoes is just the beginning. Because you need to put on clothes that go with them, which are inevitably, smarter and nicer than the clothes you can get away with if you just wear your skanky old trainers YET AGAIN. And then you need make-up and accessories. And before you know it,  you're facing the world looking like someone who cares. I found I was standing taller (not just because of the heels!), being more decisive, getting more done.

Just because of shoes? Maybe Betty was on to something after all...

(I'm still not going to wear a girdle, though.)

This post was written for the Penguin Books 'Popular' competition. http://www.penguin.co.uk/editorial/competitions/popular/