​“Radford House’ was the name of the building I lived in when I moved to London, the first place of my own.  The name was elegant, quaint, and I couldn’t say it without smiling. 

​We’ve all been there, at our open closet doors with piles of sweaters on the floor and empty hangers swaying like the skeletons of  the dresses you only wore once; the bittersweet closet clean out. Yes, de-cluttering does release a sensation of endorphins through your mind but, when you turn around and realize that what has been “cleaned out” now just sits in a pile on your floor, the high quickly fades. So, you ask yourself now what? Do you throw it in an orange garbage bag and drop it at a donation box, hand it down to siblings and friends, or do you hopelessly try to sell it on Facebook pages and Ebay?