Marie Kondo and the rise of clutter shaming

Why is clutter worth defending then? I can think of several reasons. One is simply that most people do not have time to sit down and painstakingly consider the relative merits of each of the knickknacks on the shelf. Clutter shaming is the latest in a long line of similar reversals in elite opinion. Like buying sliced bread, feeding infants with formula, being overweight, and divorce, having more stuff than you know what to do with is something that only the very wealthy could have managed once upon a time. The pattern is always the same: Once the well-to-do realize an innovation or indulgence not such a good idea after all, they are able to revert back, thanks to their considerable material and social resources. For decades now we have encouraged people to buy as much as they are able to afford — or not afford — because the American economy depends upon endless undifferentiated consumption. I wonder what we will gaslight the poor over next.

The difference, though, is that unlike Wonder Bread, clutter can in fact be beautiful. When you look at a book of Victorian interiors, you don’t see minimalism. You find tasteful Morris wallpapers covered with pictures and engravings, fireplaces topped with busts of dead admirals and gilt rococo mirrors, elaborately carved and upholstered sofas and chairs surrounded by end tables of every size. Books line entire walls all the way up 10- or 12-foot ceilings. Grand pianos choke under the weight of family albums and other memorabilia. Hutches are swallowed by gleaming china. When I look at a Marie Kondo video I see apartments that resemble a cross between a Target ad and the WonkaVision test room: bare taupe or white walls, cage-like shelving “units,” plastic faux-woven baskets, an occasional (fake) plant. There is no evidence that people — least of all children — actually live in these places.