If only I could throw open the doors to my overstuffed closet and be transported into an infinitely endless wardrobe! My once roomy closet, which was built by the previous apartment tenant, a professional closet designer, has now been burdened with the load of a second inhabitant, my husband. Not a man of many clothes (mainly because he could only carry so much luggage over from Stockholm), he at first begrudgingly occupied the tiny sliver of closet I had cleared out from him from my skirt area, as well as the unreachable top shelf area (a.k.a. Siberia). Of course, as time goes on, more grumbling has ensued, and he has all but staged a full scaled coup, trying to position for larger and choicer bits of closet space, in a fight all too reminiscent of when Aidan moved in with Carrie ("Do not mock the clothes!"). Fearful that I will come home to find half of my clothes carted off to the Salvation Army, I have preemptively begun the tearful process of clearing out more of my stuff to go into the donation pile. I have also taken into consideration how to restructure my beloved wardrobe, before calling it quits and renting out some sad space in Manhattan Mini-Storage for my off-season goods, like so many other space-deprived New Yorkers before me. If anyone has any ingenious space-saving ideas, let me know. In the meantime, look out for my remnants of my skirt collection at a Beacon's Closet near you...
-Tiffany
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