What is luxury? When I was younger (and scraping by), luxury meant having fresh flowers in the house or hiring people to help me clean because flowers and help were frivolous, extra, non-essentials. For me, luxury was never clothing - I’m constitutionally incapable of paying full price or ignoring mark-downs. In fact, I have been reminded, more than once, that if an article of clothing is ugly, 50% off the full price DOES NOT matter. Hmmm.
I have changed. Now, luxury is an empty drawer. Empty, completely empty. I know that some years ago, I passed from valuing acquisitions to appreciating decluttering - I wrote about that earlier; it was a game changer. Empty drawers are a neglected concept that transcends decluttering. Empty drawers are the pot of gold at the end of the decluttering rainbow. I open them just so that I can see nothing. I stare at the emptiness. It gives me a frisson (do you like that bit of sophistication?) of excitement. I do not want to fill these drawers; that would make them ordinary. I have lots and lots of overflowing drawers, shelves and suitcases. The empty drawers are special. I’ve arrived.
Remember Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof? He wanted one staircase for going up and another for coming down. That was his luxury, his arrival. If they had kitchen cabinets, dishwashers, and microwaves in his town of Boyberik (based on Boyarka, a town in the Russian empire), he wouldn’t have cared about staircases and would have agreed with me about empty drawers. By the way, my grandparents were only 50 miles away. They said they left because the Cossacks were endlessly chasing them, eager to conscript their sons, but maybe they also wanted some empty drawers.
In March, 2025, Not The Trip We Planned will be published by Koehler. For better or worse, I am featured in the novel.
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