Make Your Heart Sing by Transforming the Closet

Dear Darling Divorce Divas:

Make Marie Kondo proud!

Whether you and your ex shared a closet, or you each have your own walk-in closets (as me and my ex did), the closet was the first thing I had to change. It smelled like him, and the chipped walls, empty hangers and barren hooks made me sick to my stomach every time I passed, a glaring reminder that my fairy tale marriage was over.

The day after he left, my best friend, Kim, flew in from LA to be with me. She stood next to me, her arm linked in mine, as all his stuff was packed up and removed from the house by movers. My mind was reeling, my head spinning, my heart broken, I thought I was going to vomit with grief.

What the heck was happening? How could this be happening? Was this really happening?

There were glaring holes where his stuff had disappeared, and my heart dropped every time I walked by. Kim bought some sage and made me walk around the house with her, smudging every corner, especially his closet. A Smudging ceremony is something the Native Americans did to cleanse bad feelings and negative spirits from houses. She directed me to say with her, “I release all negativity and lies and toxicity and welcome joy and honesty and beauty.” I had a hard time talking, but I tried. We smudged every nook and cranny of the house, and it really didn’t feel any different to me, but I hoped it worked.

Then she made me walk in the forest to the top of the hill and do some primal screaming. I felt stupid, so she did it first. She made me join her until I collapsed sobbing in her arms and she rubbed my back as the wind blew through the trees around us and the sun danced on the ocean.

It was hard, really hard.

I felt like I had my finger in a dam, and if I let one tear fall, the entire dam would burst and we’d all drown.

But Kim held my face in her hands and looked at me with her big brown eyes and a gentle smile and said, “It feels like if you cry you’ll never stop, but you will. You will stop. And I am here to hold you.” When we got home, she covered me with a blanket on my lounge and made dinner for me and the kids while I lay curled up with the dogs, feeling like I was cartwheeling through outer space. The universe felt vast, cold, lonely and scary as hell.

I decided the first thing I needed to do was to paint his closet my favorite color: bubble gum pink. Kim and the kids and my Mom helped me. I thought it would take an hour, but after several days and a lot of aching arms, I hired a real painter to come in and finish. I bought a gorgeous pink linen shade for the window and filled the closet with my ballgowns, hip scarves, sparkles, glitter, tutus, feathers, and boas. With every colorful tutu, my spirits lifted a tiny bit. I love fun whimsical handbags, so I displayed them on the shelves, along with all my hats. I even bought styrofoam heads and put all my fun wild wigs on them from my favorite showgirl shop in New Orleans, Fifi Mahony’s. I was worried they might end up scaring me, but on the contrary, they are so crazy they make me laugh. It delighted me to walk by the closet and see my pink Marie Antoinette wig with a mini champagne bottle popping on top on a shelf and Annabelle’s purple wig with butterflies dancing around it. In another moment of inspiration, I decided to display my sunglasses on their eyes. It’s a jolly world of whimsy in there now.

From mundane to magical, the closet now glows with a luscious rosy hue. I couldn’t find a negative piece of energy in there if I tried!

And this was before Marie Kondo! My inner Divorce Diva said: if it didn’t spark joy, it had to leave the house.

One joyful gown that happily hangs in the pink closet: my fairy tale ballgown with the swans swimming on the train. Designed by my darling bestie love muffin, Tristan Govignon, the gown is full of magical energy. Tristan is a brilliant artist and he had a photograph he took of swans swimming around a castle in France. He digitally printed the photograph on satin and he directed a cranky but talented couture tailor to create a fairy tale gown with swans swimming on the train. I wore it for the MFA tech fashion opening party, and it now hangs in a place of honor in the pink closet.

Another joyful spark ballgown: my black satin Alice and Olivia with the Grateful Dead dancing bears on it wearing sunglasses and sequins. They are silly and fun and remind me of my Deadhead days dancing on warm summer nights with thousands of people. I was actually friends with the real dancing bear from the Dead, and he always left me tickets, known as “miracles” because they were a gift, so I could attend the concerts. Pre-cellphones, he would leave me a message on my voicemail, something like, “I left you three tickets under the third red rock near the sign for the stadium in Vegas”. I would go to the rock, pick up the tickets, and thank the Bear who was like a furry angel to me. The Bear lives in Palo Alto and owns ten houses all named after Grateful Dead  songs like Touch of Grey. When I visited him, he didn’t sleep in any of them, but in a sleeping bag in the backyard of one… like a real bear! I love it! A favorite memory is the year I rode on the Mardi Gras float with the Bear through the Oakland coliseum. When I see photos from that night of me standing in an enormous feathered mask with thousands of arms reaching up to me and beads flying through the air, I am smiling so big I look like I’m floating. I cherish my Dancing Bear ballgown skirt–it sparks joy and makes me think of kind people and miracles.

My dancing bear ballgown skirt

Every morning when I pass the pink closet with the sunlight coming through the pink shade, my heart leaps with delight. Yes!

I even hung the portrait of me that was commissioned by my favorite artist, Ashley Longshore. I’ve known Ashley and adored and collected her art for years. After the last time my ex betrayed me, and begged me to take him back, he presented me with this portrait for my birthday. It was beautiful, and pink of course, with hummingbirds and jewels around me. He had given Ashley a picture of me from one of our date nights at L’Espalier in Boston. He insisted it be hung above the fireplace and promised me over and over that he would never ever hurt me again. He said that he had learned what an honor it was to be married to me, to be part of our solid family, and that he would be loyal and honest from now on. Right. After he left, the painting made me sad, really sad. I even looked sad in it. So I moved it up to the pink closet because I couldn’t bear to part with it, but I didn’t want to see it either.

Now it hangs happily in the pink closet.

In place of the portrait over the fireplace, I hung a crazy pink painting done by ME!! It makes me laugh because I really can’t paint, but I love the painting. It’s based on a painting by Ashley and it shows two ladies scandalized by a saucy high-kicking cancan girl. I call it, “The Story of My Life Every Damn Day.” The dancing girl is jubilant and couldn’t look sad if she tried.

So, I encourage all my Divorce Divas to begin immediately to transform the dark energy in the house into joy–whatever brings you joy. No one can tell you what that is–for me it’s pink glitter and color and tutus –for you it might be something completely different.

Whatever it is–the only requirement is that it makes your heart sing.

Make Marie Kondo proud!