Minimalism’s dirty secret

Ditch the clutter, toss the chaos, and keep the space that actually works for you.

Ah, spring cleaning. The time of year when we all get a sudden burst of energy to throw out half our stuff – only to replace it with even more. 

Once the old stuff is out the way, we have more space for shiny, aesthetically pleasing clutter that aligns with our #minimalistgoals. Plush velvet chairs and books we’ll never read but make our shelves look more interesting (I’ll die before I get rid of my painted edition classics).

As we toss out things that no longer serve us, we’re actually making room for new stuff that will inevitably pile up into an aesthetically pleasing state of organised chaos. It’s a vicious, beautifully curated cycle – and we love every minute of it.

Minimalism has become a game of musical chairs, constantly making room for the next perfectly curated item that will somehow make our lives better, quieter and more aesthetic. 

Screw the aesthetic – let’s just make space for what actually matters.

I myself am unbelievably messy because I have so much stuff (and to be honest, I am pretty lazy). I’ve been wanting to be more minimalist lately, but not in an aesthetic way – because let’s face it, my room will never fit into “clean girl” minimalist constructs, with its Coraline dolls, Doctor Who Funkos, and the dying plants on my windowsill I keep forgetting to water.

I started by filling a charity bag with clothes – those pieces I hadn’t worn in years but kept telling myself, “I’ll fit into these again someday.” But every time I tried to declutter, my brain pulled up the same thought: What if I need this stuff one day? Even though it had been gathering dust under my bed for who knows how long.

But I kept going. I sorted through mismatched storage boxes, digging through old chargers, half-full notebooks of unfinished ideas, and a dust bunny that’s basically an entire colony by now. The more I dug, the worse it got. I couldn’t even see my floor for days. 

I was buried in art supplies I hadn’t used in months – paintbrushes, canvases, and tubes of paint that were just taking up space. Then there’s the yarn – five balls, three sets of needles, and not a single knitted item to show for it. 

And the guilt. Gifts I couldn’t part with, convinced my grandma would know I didn’t appreciate them. Gadget boxes for phones I upgraded years ago, and dead batteries – everywhere.

And don’t even get me started on the notebooks. I have an entire box full of them – at least a dozen—because I like how they look. As if one day I’ll finally be struck by inspiration, sit down, and write something profound which, spoiler alert, never happens.

All of it must go! It’s time to stop hoarding out of sentimentality and make space for things I actually use – or at least things I don’t feel compelled to keep for no good reason.

It was hard. I love stuff, but I don’t need any of it, and I definitely don’t need to replace what I’ve gotten rid of. Now, I can finally breathe again. And one day, when I move house, I won’t need three vans just for my room. Although, I might still need a van for the yarn..

The clutter isn’t chaos; it’s stuff piling up overnight for no reason. It’s the battle between wanting a tidy space and always ending up with drawers full of tangled cables, half-burnt candles, and that one tote bag you swear you didn’t buy.

Maybe it’s time we stop chasing perfection and just make space for what matters. Clutter and all.