What we own is not who we are. An organized home is not necessarily a decluttered home. Understand the distinction, say Kyle Quilici and Cary Fortin, and you might just be headed for a better quality of life.
The two are the forces behind New Minimalism, a San Francisco decluttering and interior design company, and believe that living with fewer possessions is not a life of grim deprivation but one that’s comfortable and cozy.
That’s the premise of their business, and their new book, “New Minimalism: Decluttering and Design for Sustainable, Intentional Living,” (Sasquatch Press, 195 pages), which hit the shelves Jan. 2. Part therapy and part interior design, it’s just the thing to dive into as we seek inspiration for calm and order in the new year.
Quilici, an interior designer, and Fortin, who previously worked in corporate law, describe their philosophy as a “middle ground between traditional minimalism and over-the-top consumerism,” and fill the book with photos of airy interiors; stories about the experiences of real-life clients; tips for donating, composting, recycling; lists of websites for wardrobes and interior design; and more.
There are quizzes, too, to help collectors (or would-be hoarders) determine which of four common archetypes they fall into, with regard to having trouble throwing things away. Quilici, who has a degree in organizational behavior, and Fortin, who studied psychology, detail the mental blocks that prevent each personality type from letting go, and provide suggestions for overcoming them. Awareness, after all, is the first step of change.
“The need for a complicated organizational system is usually indicative of too much stuff to begin with,” they write in the book’s opening pages. “A beautiful, easy-to-maintain, organized home is simply one of the many positive by-products of a thoughtfully curated and decluttered life.”
Their philosophy dovetails with the trend toward living small, too.
Millennials tempered by the recession of 2008 and laden with college debt are more interested in experience than acquisition. A slew of TV shows are popular for living small, including HGTV’s “Tiny House, Big Living” and Bravo TV’s “Stripped,” which strips participants of all possessions to see how they fare nude, without money, furniture or clothes. Meanwhile, books such as “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” by Marie Kondo are charting on best-seller lists (while simultaneously inspiring a backlash from those proud of their possessions).
“In society in general, we look at things as enhancing our lives, so there’s only a positive association with having things,” said Quilici in a recent chat from her office in San Francisco. (Fortin recently moved to Boise, Idaho.)
“We like to talk about the hidden costs of things — the cost to store them; repairing them if they get broken; remembering where things are; returning things because you bought it online and it didn’t fit,” Quilici said. “Stuff ends up taking a lot of bandwidth to manage.”
The two met by chance while carpooling to a yoga retreat in Ojai (Ventura County) in 2011 and bonded over a mutual interest in sustainable living. Fortin founded the business in 2013.
Their clients, who numbered nearly 100 this year, are often people in transition — college students living away from home for the first time; people experiencing breakups; older adults who are downsizing or experiencing life-changing medical conditions. Fortin and Quilici typically work in five-day sessions, focusing with clients on mind-set to ensure they’re ready to begin; asking how they want to feel when they walk in the door of their home (calm? energized? proud?); and then grouping possessions in categories (wardrobe, kitchen, household supplies, etc.) before sorting for donation or disposal.
Software engineer Madelin Woods, 30, worked with Quilici and Fortin in late 2014, after going through a breakup and moving into a studio while on the verge of leaving her job at Square.
With New Minimalism’s help, she donated “two or three giant SUVs full of stuff,” she recalled. She learned to recognize an object’s sentimental value, tell herself she didn’t need it, take a picture of it, thank it for being in her life and then give it away.
“You’re letting go of stuff, but you get to breathe new life and light into your space,” Woods recalled. “That’s important when you’re going through something hard. There’s opportunity here.”
Now head of her own startup and splitting her time between apartments in San Francisco and New York, Woods has resisted the temptation to accumulate to excess, noting, “My way of arranging my apartment now and bringing things into and sending things out of my life was affected. I wouldn’t have been able to do that without their influence.”
Similarly, Abby Davisson, 38, director of the Gap Foundation in San Francisco, and her husband, Ross, used the duo’s services when she was pregnant with their second child and the couple wanted to stay in their three-bedroom house without feeling crowded. “We knew what had to happen,” she said, “but we didn’t have a vision of how it could.”
One day was spent clearing out a bedroom that had been used as a home office and a storage space for boxes of belongings from cross-country moves, shedding old party costumes, sets of china and framed certificates of achievement from grade school. The next session was devoted to setting up a nursery in the empty bedroom. (The home office was moved to the garage.)
Davisson kept one teacup and saucer from each set of china for tea with girlfriends, and took photos of her certificates and donated the frames. Whenever she balked and suggested she might need an item for future use, she was asked to consider when she’d used it last, and whether there was someone she could borrow it from instead.
“It’s intense,” Davisson recalled of the memories that resurfaced. “It’s emotionally exhausting; I felt drained.”
Creating a nursery, however, was “exhilarating,” she said, as they focused on making the room functional and aesthetically pleasing. “You could see the fruits of your labor in letting go of things,” she said, “as the room started to take shape.”
The training has made her relentless in deciding what stays and goes. With an app called Artkive, she photographs her kids’ artwork instead of allowing it to pile up in the house.
“I feel calm, despite lots of chaos in our lives with two parents working and two kids,” she said. “They’ve helped us make our home a haven.”
Removing excess from our lives is a First World problem, for sure. But Quilici’s got a point when she notes: “What we value, if we get deeply introspective, doesn’t have anything to do with stuff.”
Carolyne Zinko is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: czinko@sfchronicle.com
The four archetypes of collectors
Connected
Has an emotional, relational and impassioned way of approaching the world, treasuring family and friends. Clings to souvenirs, even if they do not use or enjoy them. Their block is sentimentality. They must learn to separate memories and experiences from possessions and mementos, appreciate the item for what it once meant and release it for use by someone else.
Practical
Operates from logic; is data-driven, methodical and factual. They are limited in their understanding of the effect their things have, ignoring how cluttered the space is and how it negatively affects themselves and others. Their block is usefulness. If an object has a perceived use for any person in any circumstance, they will hold onto it — even if it’s not useful for them. Instead of thinking “I might” or “I could,” they need to focus on whether they need the object right now.
Energetic
Exudes energy in tackling projects and obstacles; innovates at work, is deeply committed to hobbies. They tend to be chronic over-schedulers who run 10 minutes late and rarely finish projects, being unrealistic with their time. Their block is an inability to say no. They must determine top priorities, say no to activities that don’t align with those priorities, and schedule time for actions that do. To-do lists are their best friends.
Frugal
Acts from mindful self-awareness and contentment, plans for the future but is rooted in the present. Eliminates expenses that don’t add to health, joy or happiness goals; are intentional about how to expend energy. Scarcity is a worry; they replay past financial traumas or project anxieties into the future, holding onto items purchased in the past to quell such fears. Their block is money. They need to soothe internal discomfort with actions, not external objects — exercising, sitting in nature, dancing to a favorite song or calling a friend.
Source: “New Minimalism: Decluttering and Design for Sustainable, Intentional Living,” by Cary Fortin and Kyle Quilici
