Less Is Fabulous.

On Give It Away Saturdays I look back at my Goodwill lists and share three things I donated. Part fun, part reflection, it reminds me that I’m not defined by my (forgettable) stuff. I hope this motivates you to pack it up, move it out and finish the weekend lighter.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Or in my case, which came first, my antique printer box or my first miniature?

First a history lesson. Back in the day, printers used to keep movable type characters organized in compartmentalized wooden drawers. Grab the stamps you need to make a word, ink ‘em, press ‘em, voila. I’m sure it was more complex, but you get the point. Printing eventually became sophisticated and the boxes were no longer needed. Some lover of knickknacks had the brilliant idea to hang a discarded box on the wall and fill the holes with teeny tiny dust collectors. A new industry was born.

I grew up in Erie, Pennsylvania in the late 1970s and 80s and was heavily exposed to the Americana decor craze. I lived at the epicenter of mauve meets blue meets painted wooden ducks meets red, white and blue heart stencils in the kitchen.  We attended craft shows and visited antique stores. I knew how to sew before I needed a training bra. So naturally I had my own printer box and collected miniatures. I had well over 100 – more than my box would accommodate. I was known to double up or rotate my collection (like they do at The Met).

I knew the dimensions of my compartments. I could spot a perfectly sized miniature from a distance, asked Santa for miniatures, used some of my hard-earned lawn mowing money to purchase all things little and became shrewd at acquiring free miniatures – promotional matchbooks from restaurants, flag pins from ethnic fairs, you name it. I was a hard-core collector. Organizing excites me and visual order brings harmony to my days. So here we had a utilitarian antique that added to the chic aesthetics of my green-and-pink-flowered pre-teen bedroom. It was my prize possession.

These little treasures brought me endless pleasure. I recall my dad screwing my box into my bedroom wall and later into the plaster at my first apartment. When my husband and I moved to Las Vegas in 2001, I painstakingly wrapped each miniature, and away to the Wild West we went. I’m not sure when my taste changed or I outgrew the need to have these teeny reminders of my past as wall art, but the thought of displaying these or any other collection in Las Vegas turned my stomach.

I’m sentimental, so I kept my collection packed in a giant box for nine years. I opened it a few times to reminisce and relive the experiences associated with each piece, but never had the desire to put this stuff out on parade. The printer box is long gone, but it wasn’t until this spring that I decided these miniatures no longer had a place in my life. I lined them up and preserved them through digital photos. Off to Goodwill they went. I don’t regret it. The photos make me smile, the big box is gone and hopefully someone else is enjoying my minis.

I wonder if Goodwill sold them individually (10 cents each?) or as a collection ($5 for the lot?).

Gave It Away. Glad It’s Gone.

1.  Miniature Mickey thimble

2.  Miniature barber pole

3. Miniature bags of Ruffles, Doritos and Fritos

Parting with my miniatures was a major step in my decluttering process. Sometimes the least valuable items are hardest to give up.

What are the “miniatures” in your life? Have you passed them on? Still debating and suffering from separation anxiety?