Over the holidays I discovered that I am was a sock torturer.  M.J. broke the news to me in bed by reading aloud from a book I’d given him for Christmas called The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing  by  “tidying consultant” Marie Kondo.

“This lady says to ‘never, ever ball up your socks,’” he said,  glancing at me sideways as I dozed off over a copy of Wild.  “They should be resting right now and yours are doing anything but.”

The book has already sold 2 million copies in Japan and Europe so perhaps you’ve picked up your own copy and have already been admonished by Ms. Kondo to stop folding your socks into misshapen “potato-like lumps.”

If so, you’ve read how your socks “take a brutal beating in their daily work, trapped between your foot and your shoe, enduring pressure and friction to protect your precious feet.”

You probably already knew that the time they spend in your drawer is “their only chance to rest,” and that if you ball them up, they are in a constant state of tension when they should be “on holiday.”

Chastened, I decided to follow Kondo’s advice and take all my socks out of my sock drawer, discard the ones that no longer “sparked joy” and then carefully fold the rest before standing them on end in the drawer.

If you dare, look closely at my sock drawer full of misshapen sock balls in the Before photo above. Then take a gander at the neatly folded socks in this After shot.

After discarding nine joyless pairs (while thanking them for their years of dedicated service), I was left with 35 pairs of colored socks and 9 pairs of white sport socks.  As Kondo predicted, my newly folded socks take up half the space and are all easily visible.  Everyone/thing involved is breathing easier.

Kondo promises that once sorted and organized, your clothing will stay tidy with minimal effort.  Is her approach to clutter life-changing? We’ll see.  But for now at least, finding a pair of socks in the morning is pretty magical.

Does January find you trying new organization techniques?  If so, what and how?

Overall, I’d give the Switzerland/Germany packing list high marks.  The clothes fit the demands of the climate (rainy cool to muggy hot) and activities (mostly casual with an occasional dressy dinner out and a Sunday morning church stop) just fine.  I felt comfortable and didn’t get too bored with what I’d brought, though there were some pieces that were little used and maybe didn’t justify the space they took up in my carry-on luggage. For example, the green linen shirt/jacket only came out once because I always had my grey trench as an outer layer  on the rainy half of the trip so a lighter sweater underneath was preferable.

The blue linen jacket, however, saw more use than I expected.  Most of my time in Switzerland was spent in a small suburb of Zurich where the opening scenes of my novel take place.  I wanted to go to Lenzburg this time of year because the Jugendfest (Children’s Festival) happens now and I figured I’d see some historic costumes and celebrations that might prove helpful as I work on the second draft of the book, which is set in the late 19^th century.

I didn’t realize until I got there that the town’s symbol is a cornflower blue sphere and that most people attending the many activities wear some form of blue.  Check out these great azure hats:

Since I didn’t pack (or own) a blue chapeau, I was happy I had a blue jacket with me, even if the color was a little more subdued. I supplemented with blue and white accessories found on the main square–a boutonniere from a charming flower shop and a scarf I found in an antique store–and felt appropriately festive.  Here I am wearing the jacket while chatting with two women about their traditional costumes.

The jacket also came in handy for a nice dinner out in Heidelberg with my son and my niece and her husband who are working there.  It was just the right weight for a warmish evening on the Neckar River.

The other wild card was the pair of citrus green walking sandals.  I wore them quite a bit and they proved to be both comfortable and cheery.  Here they are basking in the sun as I take a ferry across the Rhine in Basel.

Speaking of footwear, my only wardrobe malfunction happened right out of the gate at SFO.  I’d decided to wear my trainers on the plane to free up room in my bag, but took them off to move through security. As directed, I placed the shoes in a bin to be scanned but they showed up on the other side of the scanner out of the bin with one shoelace severely frayed.

Dumbfounded, I took the shoe with the tattered shoelace to the young TSA guys who were equally perplexed. They had a little Keystone Cops moment before finding the footage that showed What Went Wrong.  They didn’t tell me exactly what they saw but took all my info and handed me a little card telling me where to file a claim with the TSA. We’ll see how far I get with that.

After we’d exchanged information, I was still left with a shoelace that couldn’t be tied.  I asked the TSA guys if they had a pair of scissors. They did. I cut off the frayed end, tied the shoe with a shortened lace (fortunately, the shoelaces were especially long) and headed off on my European adventure. It was a good reminder that no matter how much you plan ahead, you need to be able to roll with the travel punches when they come.

***

One other wardrobe note—a friend once told me that when she travels she always packs clothes she’s ready to toss, then she throws them away on the road to make room for new things she buys along the way.  I decided to do that with some underthings including an extra nightgown because I wasn’t staying long enough in any one place to do laundry.  Because I’d taken a small carry-on, I was really motivated to open up some space and so parted with items that were still serviceable but past their prime.  What do you think about this approach to a travel wardrobe?  Do you pack your best or your worst clothes when you leave home?

Hello!  I’m back from exploring a part of the world that is frankly otherworldly.  Peru was so much more colorful, noisy, beautiful and demanding than I expected.  I’ll share more over the next few weeks as I edit photos and compose my thoughts, but couldn’t wait to show you some of the gorgeous colors and textiles I saw there–starting with the clothing these children were wearing on the streets of Ollantaytambo. Aren’t they something?