Closet hunting at IKEA

If a hurricane blew through your closet and left your clothes in heaps, would you:
A) not notice?
B) move things into neater heaps each time you got dressed?
C) rally all your strength to put everything back in its proper place?
D) fall on the floor because without the sense of order that your closet imposes on your life, you are utterly useless?

I vacillate between B and A and D (B-A-D). I can’t choose C because my clothes rack is currently unstable and will fall if I put clothes back on it. Long story short: we bought a condo in a work/live artists’ building, not a luxury loft building where I’m sure all the built-in fixtures not only will not fall down, but will also be quite stylish. We consider ourselves lucky to live here, but at the closing, they might as well have given us a list of items that we would have to fix.

And it’s not just my closet. About six months ago, a neighbor reported that his clothes rack had fallen down in the middle of the night. Although he’s in a heavy metal country band and probably has a few Elvis-type costumes in his closet, I don’t think the weight of our clothes is the issue. It’s also happening in my husband’s closet. The wire shelf has started its slow leaning away from the wall. If I took a poll this weekend at the condo meeting, I’d probably hear of more cases.

My husband was for a quick fix because overnight guests were coming who would want a house tour and if they saw our clothes-strewn bedroom, they might call one of those makeover shows, and we’d have to smile and pretend we were not humiliated when a crew and cameras came knocking. But I prevailed.

I found a wardrobe storage system that I liked at IKEA called Antonius, although what really hooked me was the flash-based video, which fast-forwarded through five or so installation scenarios. I paused and restarted the video over and over to see exactly how the system was assembled. IKEA's storage solutions seem to take ten seconds to install in any room you might want. A cunningly easy, and deceptive, invitation to picture my clothes on those shelves and those racks.

On Columbus Day, my husband and I pulled up to the big blue box (with yellow accents) that is IKEA -- in Stoughton, MA. At the top of the escalator on the display floor, we spot the perfect wardrobe storage system called Pax. A sign that this quest would be easy, fast, efficient? We oohed and awed, touched the wood shelves and pullout hanging racks, and took pictures with our iPhones.

The fact that we had a single purpose made it easier to combat big building fatigue syndrome, which involves yawning and loss of energy and a growing claustrophobia. People everywhere. IKEA-world. A peak into an organized future of immaculate closets, and then a plunge into the depths of overwhelming tiredness at finding yourself and tons of strangers milling around coveting lifestyle improvements that we could or could not or could partially afford, manifesting itself in the desire to eat, which became unbearable by the time we hit the strategically placed cafeteria with its legendary Swedish meatballs (a pass for me) and the slightly better than second-rate salmon and veggie plate (my husband’s choice) or the safe Greek salad (my pick).

My pear soda refreshes me. Me: “So, are we going to buy these frames?” Husband: “No. I’m going to make them.” Me: “But are you going to make all those different drawers and shelves and hanger thingies?” Husband: “No. We’re going to buy those.” My husband who is a hybrid of contractor and architect has since sketched on computer the exact configuration of components to fit into his closet.



I remain eternally grateful that I married a man who is handy. Otherwise I would have had to hire someone to customize the IKEA system (their “boxes” are too tall for our closets). Or I would’ve had to hire the California Closet people, which my husband says could cost $4,000. We’re hoping to spend $900 per closet, excluding the cost of our (mostly his) labor.

Calvin Klein Spring 2008 Runway Review

After 5 years at Calvin Klein, Francisco Costa seemed to reach back into the company’s archives for his ode to simple elegance. Inspired by Laura Wilson’s book about the Hutterites of Montana, a religious group less assimilated than the Amish of Ohio and Pennsylvania, Costa challenged himself to eliminate any unnecessary design elements, including extra seams, which led to one continuous curving seam on some of the jersey dresses. His Spring 2008 Collection was all monochromatic neutrals, offering a refreshing palette cleanser of whites, grays, tans, and a few subdued but rich shades of aqua, rust, and spring green. Some of the first white ensembles were so austere that they suggested medical recovery more than refined luxury. But the sensuality of the fabrics begin to speak for themselves, especially in the skirts and dresses (mid-calf or full-length), which appeared to ripple whether the models were walking or standing still. Front-row admirers included Kate Bosworth and Julianne Moore, who changed into fresh Calvin Klein outfits after the show to co-host the after-party.
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What Bands Influenced My Clothes

First up, the rocker-cowboy look. I can pinpoint this look to my favorite band, which was Traffic. They had this album and song called “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys.” The song's writer, Jim Capaldi, was inspired by an actor with a rebel attitude, a guy who walked around in his cowboy boots and leather jacket. My logic was: the next best thing to being them is dressing like them. My Frye Boots, classic Campus style, were a form of tribute and a huge departure for me. I’d just transferred from a private girls’ school where we all had to wear uniforms and it was like being let out of the zoo—being able to choose your own clothes. I happily spent hours polishing those boots (instead of my dress-code oxfords).

Next? The Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album and the marching band jackets that the band are wearing on the cover. In my thrift shopping when I visited my divorced dad in Greenwich Village, I found an excellent replica. Orange wool with blue lining and heavy gold trim around the neck and down the placket. All the little hook and eye clasps up the front that discouraged me from closing it and made me stand around at dances or parties, sweating underneath.

A later Beatles’ influence would be my glasses frames, which I got from a semi-retired optometrist (on Bromfield Street in Boston) who had drawers full of antique frames. Little black specs. When I held them up to the light, I saw that they were actually a dark translucent purple. I had a purple tint put into the lenses because “light hurt my eyes.” As I would learn (and to the frustration of my future husband), the fringe benefit was that at loft parties or rock clubs, cute guys would often stop and say, “Hey, cool glasses. Very John Lennon.”

Then there were those girl dance rock bands: Lene Lovich (“Lucky Number”), Cyndi Lauper (“Girls Just Want to Have Fun”), and early ungroomed Madonna ("Borderline" and "Lucky Star"). I didn’t really wear skirts until I found a yellow-pink-black oversized checked poufy one that any of these singers could have worn. I wore it with a black top and, because it was so short, black leggings or bike shorts instead of a slip. For bracelets, I wore a studded black leather band and lots of black rubber gaskets, à la Madonna. My boots were black Kenneth Cole lace-ups, which I wore out dancing and resoled and relaced and polished faithfully. After a visit to San Francisco, I dyed my hair black and cut it in short, punked-out spikes.

What comes after is the less exciting phase of the messy-rocker anti-fashion style of lyrical, heart wrenching noise bands: Sonic Youth or Patty Smith or the Pixies! Favorite t-shirts (mostly black in different fabrics) and jeans (mostly black) worn so often they frayed. A few leather jackets. And then came the long-term serious job and its subtle influence towards all things conservative. Or classic. Definitely no costume dressing. And fewer and fewer bands. A good point to drop this narrative, since it's lost its sense of drama!