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.
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.
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.
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).
And suddenly, the world of my clothes became the place I always knew it could be…my own personal heaven.
Becoming doorless has left my closet exposed, much to my delight.
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!).
And I can finally see my scents and select accordingly instead of just grabbing whichever bottle my hand got to first.
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.
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…
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.
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?