Those Who Capsule Together

I have been married for a whole 5 months. The thing about having a significant other/spouse/best friend is that when you think something is awesome, they tend to agree. 

Ladies and gents, this is my husband, the capsuler. 

                                                                                                                                                       celeste noche photography 

                                                                                                                                                       celeste noche photography 

I subtly encouraged Ryan to capsule his wardrobe when I looked into our shared closet and saw the clothing equivalent of Jekyll and Hyde staring back at me. Considering Ryan had observed my closet transformation firsthand, he was more than happy to give it a go, and even took a moment to glance at Caroline Joy's planner as we launched into step one of the capsule process. The basic capsule building guidelines were observed, and we started the way all good closet clean-outs do: by making a massive mess. 


Every article of clothing Ryan owned was removed from the closet and placed wherever we could find a flat surface in our room. Ironic t-shirts from days gone by jockeyed for edge-of-the-bed-space next to old dockers, and our cat, resting peacefully near a pillow, was nearly drowned in hangers and dress shirts. Laying everything out on the table (or bed) is an incredibly crucial step, and one not to be missed. Seeing the amount of clothing we owned (speaking for myself especially), was dramatically eye-opening and ignited the first real shift in mindset toward finding contentment in owning less. It just plain feels good to know exactly what we own, where it all is, and how to make it work for us. 


Ryan took a good long look at the piles throughout the room and diligently placed only often-worn, well-loved items back in our closet. All 35 of them. He considered functionality, durability, and versatility while making his selections, sticking to a blue and grey heavy palette to see him through San Francisco's bi-polar weather conditions. While saying so-long to sentimental articles of clothing is never easy, he traversed the selection process with ease. He does, of course, still have all his special occasion pieces: suits and dress shoes are tucked away, kept but not kept on display. Perhaps I'm biased, but I love the end product. It's so him, and so well-done. 


We filled two bags with items to be consigned, and another four to be donated. At this point in my thrifting career I have essentially mapped out all of the best Crossroads and Buffalo Exchanges in the Bay Area (another post for another time), and so I gladly took Ryan's haul across town to be sold. As you might imagine, this sorting was the most painless part of the whole ordeal, and I take great pride when I think about the pounds of clothing we've collectively donated this year. 


Like me, Ryan kept a few cusp items. That is, items that aren't quite capsule material but are held incredibly near and dear. I appreciate the KonMari method just as much as the next capsule-enthusiast, but I will never get rid of my books or my dad's vintage ski sweater. And Ryan has his non-negotiables, respectively. While for me the capsule process has helped define personal preferences and style, for Ryan it has provided endless convenience and simplicity. I watch him spend 30 seconds grabbing any shirt and any pair of pants from our closet each morning, only to look as polished and put-together as ever as he hops on his bike to head to work. Theoretically this decrease in the time needed to get out the door in the morning should allow us a few extra minutes to do something nice together before work. Maybe someday we'll cash in the time we're saving to cook a real breakfast, or go for a long run, or even sit and drink a cup (not a to-go cup) of coffee together. But for now we're just really enjoying that second snooze.