Feeling deranged? Arrange.
The weekly micro-decorating newsletter * Issue 1 of 13, A25 *
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Welcome to the Autumn '25 season of guy with an eye! Over the next 13 weeks, we'll be looking at fresh ways to make your home your sanctuary in this challenging time. Grab your favourite beverage and join the party.
Let me tell you a story. I've lived in the same rental building for 15 years now, the longest I've lived anywhere. I've always savoured the scale of the public hallways, their generous proportions a sign of their origin in 1958, when even ordinary downtown space had a certain grandeur. The framed photographs along these hallways were conventional scenes like construction workers resting on a steel girder, or moody shots of the Eiffel Tower, their sporadic placement making it feel like you were already in your living room before reaching your door.
One day, I arrived home to discover blank walls where the photographs used to be. I was curious about the extent of the change, so I took the elevator to several other floors, learning that every single photograph was gone, each leaving a ghostly rectangle in its place. My first thought was that this was simply preparation for a repainting of the hallways, but when I asked at the front desk I was told that the recent fire inspection was the cause. The inspectors determined that the artworks were fire hazards, and for the sake of tenant safety had to be permanently removed.
I was surprised by how much it saddened me. The photos I passed on the long hallway home were such familiar landmarks I felt like I owned them. All at once, without those images to mark the progress, the path to my door seemed to take twice as long. With the unique mix of artwork erased from every floor, our eleven stacked hallways were now identical. Were these humble decorations really more combustible than anything else in the building? Was the loss of soulfulness really worth the negligible gain in safety?
The episode got me thinking. Beyond our front doors, the world can occasionally delight us, but so often frustrate us. In a blink, the former state can become the latter. Paying attention can elevate us when conditions are desirable, but inflict pain when we're faced with the tedious rush of day-to-day catastrophes. Numbing oneself to the outside world is tempting. I truly believe that a better solution is to focus on what's close at hand, making something beautiful to sustain you and those you love. Within your four walls you have the power to strengthen yourself for whatever life may bring.
Shelves in retail spaces can inspire me with the care they exemplify. During my summer in Montreal, I encountered a belt display in a favourite clothing shop that dazzled me with its precision:
Each curled composition reminded me of a pastry in a French bakery. I could feel myself salivating with hunger.
I don't know if I would have the patience to arrange my belts this way – and I certainly don't have enough belts – but I do think the underlying principle is easy to adopt. Taking extra time to display things in a way that pleases you is time well spent. The process can be meditative and the result can be a joy for your senses. So let's take this autumn to experiment together on finding those techniques for fortifying yourself at home. Think of it as a form of rehearsal for being the resilient person you want to be in the wider world.
Elsewhere
The Guardian recently reported on people who adopt unusual habits to gain a few minutes in their day:
Chloë Hamilton
Are micro-efficiencies and micro-decorating opposites? Maybe the first gives you more time for the second. Whatever the answer, this newsletter will continue celebrating things that take extra time. Hopefully, you'll find slowing down is worth it.
Thank you for reading.
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