Touch Every Piece-- A Retail-to-Reno Philosophy

In a former life before we moved to the land of organic quinoa, Vinyasa, and frozen fog, we lived in New Haven, CT.  I absolutely loved it there-- if you've never been, I suggest you visit as soon as possible.  Anyhow, for a year or so when we first moved there and I couldn't find a job, I worked nearly full-time at the J. Crew that's basically in the middle of Yale's campus.  Since I was one of the few employees who had a truly open schedule-- my inability to find a teaching job meant I had plenty of time on my hands-- I often wound up in the unenviable position of Last Girl Standing, closing the store at 10pm.  

When you close a retail store, you do what's called "standardizing."  That means you're supposed to physically put your hands on every single piece of clothing-- if it's folded, you refold it and re-stack the pile according to size order; if it's hanging, you straighten it, size it, check its buttons, and finger-space all the hangers.  It's an exhaustive process, but it makes a huge difference in the way the store looks.  When you're tired at the end of a long day on your feet and you try and fudge it-- maybe you don't use the handy little board to refold every tee in the pile, maybe you ignore a couple of misbuttoned shirts, maybe you don't bother to make sure every sleeve is rolled to the same length-- the sum of all those little shortcuts is one big sloppy mess.  But when the closing team really does it up right, it's honestly kind of breathtaking.  

Even after I found another retail job at a fancy European housewares boutique, plus a long-term sub at an intimidatingly elite prep school AND a part-time teaching gig at Southern Connecticut State University, I kept working at J. Crew-- partly for the discount, mostly for the company of the truly awesome girls who worked there too.  And a maybe just a little bit for the satisfaction of standardizing.

I'm hoping to do more than a little standardizing on our new house.  We'll touch every piece-- every linear foot of banged-up molding, every nail-hole in the plaster, every broken tile, every stuck drawer, every weed claiming its spot on the lawn.  Every doorknob, every boob light, every dirty switchplate.  It's going to be a long road, but my retail experience has taught me that the details really matter.

We have a lot to do.  Coming soon: a room-by-room breakdown of projects, complete with photos.