How to Get Into the Closet

While upgrading to a new mini manse was a tad traumatizing for me this summer (click here to catch up), I could barely wait to sign the lease on my upgraded digs after I saw the walk-in closet that would soon be mine.

Closet mania! Sold!

This is exactly how I looked when the leasing agent showed me the closet. I am the world’s worst poker player.

Upon moving in, I could barely wait to shove all of my glittered, bedazzled, pink, gaudy, (insert your favorite adjective here) clothes into their new home.

Bare as a bone.

Bare as a bone.

After all of the manhandling was over, there was one teeny, tiny problem. I couldn’t see into the f’ing closet due to the door that a man obviously designed, as it opened into the damn room, instead of outward. I had to go into the closet and shut the door just to shop in my own store.

Can't quite see...

Seeing a sliver of my threads just wasn’t going to do.

While some folks are trying to come out of their proverbial closet, I just wanted to get the F into my actual one. So one night in a pissy, hissy fit, trying to find a cardigan that was behind the door, I decided to take it off its hinges (I felt like ripping but do want my deposit back one day).

Culprit thwarted.

And suddenly, the world of my clothes became the place I always knew it could be…my own personal heaven.

Crystal clear vision instead of muddled.

I can see! It’s a summer miracle!

Becoming doorless has left my closet exposed, much to my delight.

Becoming doorless has left my closet exposed, much to my delight.

In all of its naked glory.

I can see my decor with much more ease (because every closet needs decorations, right? I can feel the eye rolls already. Yes, I’m talking to you – and I don’t care!).

I can see my pink glitter to start and end my day right.

Spotting my pink glitter to start and end my days correctly.

And I can finally see my scents and select accordingly instead of just grabbing whichever bottle my hand got to first.


Why so many to choose from? Depends which ‘personality’ I decide to be each day. Yes, I’m serious.

Of course with renewed access to my high shelves, I have my leopard stool that does the trick. Accompanied by a black, glitter throw rug.

Ted's Perch

My tiny throne.

Yes, I said sparkle black rug!

Yes, my rug sparkles. Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds. No, you can’t have it.

This room has become my little fur ball, Ted’s favorite place to hang – most likely because it looks like a rainbow threw up in the closet (probably a psychedelic trip for a kit cat). So here’s how Mr. Bear sees the renovated space…

Is this heaven?

He starts by laying on his left side.

No, it's my closet.

Not being able to fully roll over to the other, he takes a breather and views my garments straight on his back.


And then he somehow maneuvers a roll to the right.

I know you’re wondering how all of my clothes have no shoe companions joining them in the closet.  Silly you! They have their very own room. But that’s a post for another day.

Wondering how in the world a gal like me has no shoes in her closet? Oh, they have their very own room. But that's a post for another day.

All high and mighty, sitting pretty.

So by simply becoming a design expert for all of 15 seconds and removing the closet door off its own hinges, I’m able to gander at the gaudy in my own home.

But where in the hell am I going to store the door?