The Perfect Closet


I was recently made aware of a site called Compass; a real estate platform that boasts some seriously glamorous New York properties in their cache. Right from the start, the very first property I clicked on while browsing their site I'm absolutely, 300% certain I've seen as a location in several movies I've seen over the years. I can practically see the script...

The tastefully-lit lobby of a swanky Upper East Side doorman building. A BLONDE WOMAN dressed in head-to-toe Lanvin enters with two perfectly-groomed standard poodles on their leads. The woman makes her way across the lobby towards the elevators, her Manolo Blahnik heels clicking against the marble floors. The concierge smiles and nods at her. She enters the elevator without acknowledging him. 

I suppose I should mention here that I am not receiving any kind of payment from Compass for this post. It's just that gawking at high-end properties simply tickles the recreational real estate voyerism center of my brain, and therefore needs no such incentive. It did however, get me thinking - dreaming even, of closet space. My perfect closet space. Wouldn't we all love to have the opportunity to design a closet so perfect, so very you, that you wold be tempted to never come out, even for meals?

For me, despite the evidence of the above photo, my dream closet is actually a small affair. I mean, look at that picture at the top of the page. There appears to be a juice bar in the closet. Or should I say there appears to be a juice bar in one part of one section of this giant closet complex. You know you have a lot of stuff when your electrolytes get so depleted going through your clothes that you need to have a green juice delivery system at close proximity. But I digress.

I wouldn't need a huuuuge closet to be happy. I've always lived in relatively small spaces, and small fits my needs, as long as it's organised. Basically, my requirements are:  1) that you can walk inside it, so that you are surrounded by all your lovely things, like a big, chic hug, 2) that there is a place to sit down and ponder, try on shoes, or even just sit and read, and 3) that there's real, natural lighting and plenty of mirrors for keepin' it real. None of this underlit, skinny-funhouse-mirror business that you sometimes get in department stores bent on fooling you into thinking you're 31 again. I want to know how my 44 year old rear looks in those jeans, not my 31 year old rear.

I would also like to see some color in there. Apart from the colorful glow coming off of my clothes, that is. Like its owner, my dream closet has an irreverent streak bent on fun, and doesn't take itself too seriously. Why should it?



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