I frequently wish that I could be a poster child for the simplicity movement. Sometimes I long for a house that has a few bits of comfortable furniture, some books in a bookcase, and not much else. My clothes would be carefully edited--a couple of pairs of slacks, a dress or two, a jacket--all meant to work together. I would only need two pairs of shoes and very little jewelry. The reality is far different because I am really a collector, always have been and probably will continue to be for the foreseeable future.
Our house is full of furniture, our walls covered with pictures, our shelves overflowing with books and collectibles. Yarn and unfinished knitting projects are stashed in various rooms. I collect bags, jewelry scarves, and cats. No, I am not the mad cat lady was dozens of felines dozing all over the house. Only two live cats live among the cat pictures, glass, ceramic and other representations. CDs and DVDs vie for space. We only have one car, but I have three bicycles, many pairs or cycling shoes, jerseys and other cycling paraphernalia.
I obsess about the things I want to possess and Moroccan jewelry became one of those obsessions for me. I bought a necklace and earrings when visiting Morocco in 2008 but after we returned I realized that what I really wanted was a fibula, a sort of pin that Berber women use to fasten their cloaks. Since then I have spent inordinate amounts of time looking for the perfect one, and not being able to afford the ones I most wanted. Then, this spring, in the space of a few weeks, I found two that called out to me. Perhaps now this collection obsession will dissipate, but I know that some other, as yet unknown obsession will replace it. In the meantime I will dream about vast uncluttered spaces--just waiting for new collections.