30 Jul 2007, ST
One day, when I'm old and have Alzheimer's, the things I hoard may help me remember who I was
By Suzanne Sng, girltalk
SOME of my prized possessions include a doll that was part of my mother's dowry, a book of fairy tales that my father bagged in Primary 4 for being first in English, and a worn and battered set of luggage that my parents used on their honeymoon.
I also have my childhood Lego bricks and little yellow people, my massive Enid Blyton book collection proudly displayed on shelves and the first baby clothes I ever wore hung up on a tiny hanger.
Tucked in the back of my cupboard are boxes with autograph books from long-lost classmates, love letters from past boyfriends and a haphazard stack of yellowed newspaper clippings (and this column will be the latest addition to it).
As you may have guessed, I am a bit of a hoarder. I have a severe inability to throw anything away. Ever.
From observing my Mum, my sister, my aunts and my girlfriends, I realise that women seem to keep more - for want of a more precise word - stuff. From a purely pop psychology point of view, I'd say women are more sentimental.
Men, on the other hand, have what they term collections - smelly sneakers, vinyl records that haven't been spun for years and action figurines still sealed in their original packaging.
The stuff women keep, however, fall into a variety of categories.
There is the sentimental stuff, such as my family memorabilia and childhood favourites. Friends always get a trip down memory lane when they see the Famous Five and Secret Seven books lining my bookshelves and wonder why they allowed their Mums to give theirs away.
Then there are the clothes, which easily make up one huge category by themselves and take up the entire back of the wardrobe.
At least for me it does, and I know I'm not alone in stashing away fashion disasters, impulse buys and other clothes which I'll never fit into again in this lifetime.
Almost every woman has one unworn item lurking in her cupboard, probably with the price tag still on. It can't be thrown away, because that is too wasteful.
Giving it to someone else is not an option, not until you've worn it at least once. And so it remains hanging there, together with the pair of jeans that cuts off blood circulation to your lower body and the party frock that has outlived a doomed love affair.
The jeans give hope of regaining the 24-inch waist of your youth, and the dress represents the nostalgia of love lost. Never mind that both are sadly out of reach.
Speaking to a good friend with whom I share remarkably similar habits, we find that we both have an affinity for hoarding pretty but useless things. In other words, they're pretty useless.
Delicate tealight holders and candles. Mooncake boxes with intricate chinoiserie designs. Vases that never fulfill their life purpose because no one ever buys us flowers. I can't imagine a guy clinging on to these knick-knacks or having problems trashing them. In the first place, he wouldn't acquire something simply because it looks so pretty.
Other popular items for compulsive hoarding fall into what I call the auntie category. Or, as my Mum would say: 'Keep, in case.'
These include the ubiquitous oily food containers you get when you do a takeaway from the coffee shop, mini bottles of harsh shampoo and bars of hand soap snitched from hotels, tattered wrapping paper from Christmases past and more supermarket plastic bags than you can ever use. (Insert 'Save the earth' slogan here with exhortation to switch to cloth totes for groceries.)
Psychologists say that hoarding is the reflection of anxiety and the sign of a troubled mind. I say it is just a case of being a little overzealous about the virtue of saving.
The experts also say that the urge to collect may derive from the need to store supplies such as food.
It originates in the subcortical and limbic portions of the brain, which I'm not sure refers to which part of my head, but it does make me feel better about the shelves of Tupperware in my kitchen. In case of war or famine, I will be able to store a lot of food.
In a recent fit of decluttering, I removed the equivalent of 10 boxes of 'stuff' from my bedroom - and placed them in the living room instead. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to weed out the rubbish, but all I managed to throw out was an InStyle magazine circa 2004.
I know of a fellow pack rat who is in despair that her apartment has gone en bloc because she has decades' worth of earthly belongings to sort through before the move.
Despite my attempts to relegate some of my prized possessions to junk status, I couldn't bear to do it. They may not be worth much money or even mean anything to someone else, but they are precious to me.
Whenever I see self-help books that trumpet that decluttering your home will also help improve your life, I scoff. My quality of life will only plummet if I don't have the comfort and security of the things I love around me.
Deciding that since my decorating style is maximalist (as opposed to a minimalist), I even installed more shelves and bought a new bed with additional storage underneath for hoarding purposes.
I make no apologies for the fact that I'm a sentimental fool.
The stuff I keep all have memories associated with them, good or bad. One day, when I'm old and have Alzheimer's, they may help trigger my brain to remember who I was. And that is why I keep them.
One day, when I'm old and have Alzheimer's, the things I hoard may help me remember who I was
By Suzanne Sng, girltalk
SOME of my prized possessions include a doll that was part of my mother's dowry, a book of fairy tales that my father bagged in Primary 4 for being first in English, and a worn and battered set of luggage that my parents used on their honeymoon.
I also have my childhood Lego bricks and little yellow people, my massive Enid Blyton book collection proudly displayed on shelves and the first baby clothes I ever wore hung up on a tiny hanger.
Tucked in the back of my cupboard are boxes with autograph books from long-lost classmates, love letters from past boyfriends and a haphazard stack of yellowed newspaper clippings (and this column will be the latest addition to it).
As you may have guessed, I am a bit of a hoarder. I have a severe inability to throw anything away. Ever.
From observing my Mum, my sister, my aunts and my girlfriends, I realise that women seem to keep more - for want of a more precise word - stuff. From a purely pop psychology point of view, I'd say women are more sentimental.
Men, on the other hand, have what they term collections - smelly sneakers, vinyl records that haven't been spun for years and action figurines still sealed in their original packaging.
The stuff women keep, however, fall into a variety of categories.
There is the sentimental stuff, such as my family memorabilia and childhood favourites. Friends always get a trip down memory lane when they see the Famous Five and Secret Seven books lining my bookshelves and wonder why they allowed their Mums to give theirs away.
Then there are the clothes, which easily make up one huge category by themselves and take up the entire back of the wardrobe.
At least for me it does, and I know I'm not alone in stashing away fashion disasters, impulse buys and other clothes which I'll never fit into again in this lifetime.
Almost every woman has one unworn item lurking in her cupboard, probably with the price tag still on. It can't be thrown away, because that is too wasteful.
Giving it to someone else is not an option, not until you've worn it at least once. And so it remains hanging there, together with the pair of jeans that cuts off blood circulation to your lower body and the party frock that has outlived a doomed love affair.
The jeans give hope of regaining the 24-inch waist of your youth, and the dress represents the nostalgia of love lost. Never mind that both are sadly out of reach.
Speaking to a good friend with whom I share remarkably similar habits, we find that we both have an affinity for hoarding pretty but useless things. In other words, they're pretty useless.
Delicate tealight holders and candles. Mooncake boxes with intricate chinoiserie designs. Vases that never fulfill their life purpose because no one ever buys us flowers. I can't imagine a guy clinging on to these knick-knacks or having problems trashing them. In the first place, he wouldn't acquire something simply because it looks so pretty.
Other popular items for compulsive hoarding fall into what I call the auntie category. Or, as my Mum would say: 'Keep, in case.'
These include the ubiquitous oily food containers you get when you do a takeaway from the coffee shop, mini bottles of harsh shampoo and bars of hand soap snitched from hotels, tattered wrapping paper from Christmases past and more supermarket plastic bags than you can ever use. (Insert 'Save the earth' slogan here with exhortation to switch to cloth totes for groceries.)
Psychologists say that hoarding is the reflection of anxiety and the sign of a troubled mind. I say it is just a case of being a little overzealous about the virtue of saving.
The experts also say that the urge to collect may derive from the need to store supplies such as food.
It originates in the subcortical and limbic portions of the brain, which I'm not sure refers to which part of my head, but it does make me feel better about the shelves of Tupperware in my kitchen. In case of war or famine, I will be able to store a lot of food.
In a recent fit of decluttering, I removed the equivalent of 10 boxes of 'stuff' from my bedroom - and placed them in the living room instead. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to weed out the rubbish, but all I managed to throw out was an InStyle magazine circa 2004.
I know of a fellow pack rat who is in despair that her apartment has gone en bloc because she has decades' worth of earthly belongings to sort through before the move.
Despite my attempts to relegate some of my prized possessions to junk status, I couldn't bear to do it. They may not be worth much money or even mean anything to someone else, but they are precious to me.
Whenever I see self-help books that trumpet that decluttering your home will also help improve your life, I scoff. My quality of life will only plummet if I don't have the comfort and security of the things I love around me.
Deciding that since my decorating style is maximalist (as opposed to a minimalist), I even installed more shelves and bought a new bed with additional storage underneath for hoarding purposes.
I make no apologies for the fact that I'm a sentimental fool.
The stuff I keep all have memories associated with them, good or bad. One day, when I'm old and have Alzheimer's, they may help trigger my brain to remember who I was. And that is why I keep them.
No comments:
Post a Comment