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Tom Hanks famously collects typewriters, Jerry Seinfeld maintains multiple garages to house all his cars, and Rosie O'Donnell has amassed over 2,500 Happy Meal toys.
Some of us are just collectors at heart. But what's the difference between a meaningful collection and a bunch of stuff you can't find space for?
As a professional declutterer, I know that getting rid of a collection is harder than getting rid of single items.
Several years ago, I purchased a blue ceramic owl that housed a particularly great scented candle. A few weeks later, I saw another large blue ceramic owl — this time fashioned into a vase. Of course, I bought it, they looked great together. Then, I ran across a green ceramic owl in a thrift store. Well, I already had two, so why not one more?
Thus was born a collection I had no intention of creating. That's the thing about collecting; you might set out to acquire a trucker hat from every state in the nation, which is a noble enterprise. But you might also end up procuring a whole pile of desert-themed hand-painted shot glasses without ever really meaning to.
If you find that owning two of something quickly turns into owning too many of that thing, slow your roll. Ask yourself: Is this something to which I really want to devote time, money, and shelf space? Or is it merely an excuse to hold on to random stuff I've acquired?
Once I recognized that I'd accidentally started collecting ceramic owls, I realized I had no interest in housing an entire flock. This wasn't a cool collection in the making; it was undeniably clutter. This led me to a reckoning. I traversed the house, ferreting out groups of objects that threatened to turn into full-blown compilations.
I decided that I could maintain three collections. Each comprised small items, and one was even useful, sort of. Everything else went to the thrift store. This is how I avoided collecting mid-century wooden candle holders, teacups in a distinct shade of blue, or glass bottles that fit particular but hard-to-define parameters. My life is better without these things.
For those of you who are not collectors but know them, here's a little advice: it's tempting to buy your aunt yet another squirrel sculpture or your nephew another stuffie. But think about whether you'd be adding a special piece to a meaningful collection or merely loading them up with the kind of clutter that's hard to get rid of.
Collections can end up owning the collector; it's much harder to get rid of a set of something than a single object. And if half the items have been purchased by someone else, you may come to feel that you're obligated to keep the whole lot, whether you're all that interested in owning dozens of camels, as happened to my mother-in-law.
Clutter is sticky. It wants to fill your shelves and cupboards. You'll think of a thousand reasons to hold on to it even when it's no longer sparking anything but annoyance. Label that clutter "A Collection," and it may be with you until the end, like it or not. Instead, choose things that actually bring you joy.
If you do have a collection, display it with pride. Put it where you can see it every day and revel in each piece. A collection that lives in darkness may as well not exist.
Finally, think like a curator. Not every miniature French horn is an excellent miniature French horn. Choose the best and pass the others along. If you're going to bother collecting at all, make it into an art form. Be an authority on your chosen object. If you don't love it, it's not really a collection, it's just clutter.
