The purge begins…

Once upon a time, digthatbird.com was started an ‘academic’ blog about archaeology.  Since then I have earned my MA in archaeology from the ‘prestigious’ Durham University in Durham, England, and am entirely sick of the academic world.  While I still retain hopes of eventually making it in the world of academic publishing, the current financial climate leaves me with little hope for an immediate future there.  As such, I have tucked my tail between my legs and have left my wonderful boyfriend back in England to return to my parents home for 2 month while I work on cleaning up my life.

In the year before I moved to England I cleaned out my wardrobe no less than 3 times.  Everything I decided I no longer needed or wanted went to goodwill, while other items like old denim went into my big bag of fabric for sewing projects.  Since then I have left two very large suitcases full of clothes at my boyfriend’s mother’s house, and still had two pieces of luggage to check on my flight from Heathrow to JFK.  Even now I have in my childhood room more clothes than I care to count (but I will do very soon).

The Horror of my childhood room

My parents have a barn, an attic, and a basement filled with almost 40 years worth of junk, old toys, and clothes, not forgetting books and records and the remains of 5 children (yes I am the youngest of FIVE) coming out of every orifice of their 6-bedroom house.

My goal?

Clean out this house and have a massive Garage Sale.

When I first got back to the states (yesterday) I had hoped to ask for a part-time job with my old employer, a wonderful boutique shop, owned by the designer, with stores on the Upper East Side and in East Hampton.  In the time since then I have realized that a part-time job is an unlikely dream.  The more I look at the piles and piles of items around this house I can see that this is a full-time job, especially as I am pretty much doing this on my own (with some help from my brother and near-by sister).  Despite the lack of income I will be receiving, I know that purging the remains of my old life (and helping my parents with theirs) will be a much-needed cleansing…  though how am I supposed to purge when every time I look in a closet I find vintage Coco Chanel and Oscar De La Renta?

On the TV we see incredible rebirths of houses freed from clutter, but in all of those there are professionals who know exactly what to do with things like a blueprint copier from the 1980s that has been living in the garage for 20 years.  Seriously- what the heck am I supposed to do with an old blueprint copier from my dad’s architecture office?  Do I get my brother to help me bring to a disposal center, despite the fact that we probably can’t lift it?  IS there someone I can call who will come pick up for an affordable price?  Or do I list it as “free to whatever schmuck wants to come pick it up” on the Fairfield County section of Craigs List?

And then there’s the clothes.  Oh the clothes.  Here we have a whole ‘nother kettle of fish (which makes me wonder when we ever boiled fish in kettles… ugg, I blame the Brits).  We have some clothes older than my parents.  We also have some, well, lots actually, that can be given straight to charity–and that is what we do every few months where my mother or I convince ourselves to do a small purge.  But some of these clothes are things like a vintage Coco Chanel suit, designed by Coco herself, that I will never ever ever part with.  There’s my mother’s wedding dress from her first marriage in the 1960s, and the amazing dresses she wore during that time.

My mother's wedding dress

Detail from the bodice of one of my mother's vintage gowns

The kimono my father had made for him when he visited Japan in the 1960s during his time in the Navy.

My father's kimono

Or my great-grandmothers burnt orange silk flapper dress from the early 20s with more beads on it than I can count that is slowly being devoured by time.  These are things we can’t just sell at some garage sale (especially one that will be asking for cash only).  I am on the quest for answers, another opportunity to learn through trial-and-error, and the perfect small wardrobe… though my clothes horse tendencies and my mother’s old wardrobe predict the last one to be unlikely.