I was recently asked by a business mentor “what is it, beyond the tangible product, that your customers are ACTUALLY buying?” And I was ready with my answer: Positive nostalgia that’s convenient to daily life.
I meet people with a bin, or a box, or a repurposed toy chest that’s filled to the brim with sentimental t-shirts ― shirts from school, shirts from work, shirts from every 5k walk, jog and run they’ve ever done; perhaps even a decade’s worth of ugly Christmas sweaters. Even I have a bin in the garage with shirts from my kid’s years-long obsession with Minecraft. And…
…it’s really hard to enjoy the memories held inside those storage containers on a regular basis.
Between carpooling to soccer practice, quizzing the 1st grader on their weekly spelling words, working full-time, and researching reasons why the household dog is suddenly having sneezing fits; there’s barely time for a shower, meaning there’s no time left for lugging the bin in from the garage, wiping off the dust, unpacking to reminisce, folding and repacking the shirts, and then moving the bin back in the garage for next time. By transforming these special t-shirts into a memory quilt, they are able to sit in nostalgia more often. The quilt lives on their bed or their couch, where they’re able to either see or use it every day. I thought this was a good answer, but she dug a little deeper.
“And why do they care about having these keepsakes available for daily use?” This is where I paused. Though it’s true we don’t have time to pull shirts out of storage to reminisce every day, why does that bother us? Why do they get excited when they see the options I have at my booth for transforming t-shirts? What’s so wrong with the shirts sitting in the garage?
So, I told her a story about a recent craft show: I asked a woman who stopped by my booth if she had any sentimental clothing in her closet ― and she started crying right there in my booth, saying how she’d kept her late brother’s clothing in a box in her closet for years, always planning to do something with them. And then another story about how a mom was pushing her toddler in a stroller past my booth, uninterestingly gazing past the quilts and bears, but then focusing on a sign that said, “Quilts made with your child’s baby clothes.” She gave an audible gasp, her eyes got wide, and she put her arm out to stop her partner in his tracks while exclaiming, “Oh my gosh look, it’s made out of onesies! I’m so happy I kept them!”
My mentor said, “It sounds like you’re giving them relief. Relief from the guilt they have over keeping their memories. You’re giving them an option on how to repurpose those items into functional tangibles, so they don’t feel bad about keeping them.” I thought how I felt about storing my kids shirts in the garage. “Well,” I thought, “I’m okay with the shirts being stored, but I also have a plan for them.” I know they won’t be in the garage forever but ― I have boxfuls of classroom artwork and projects for my kids that I cannot let go of because they still “spark joy” and at the same time there’s still a little piece of me that feels bad for keeping so much of it. For keeping too much of it. For keeping ALL of it.
I’ve felt so bad about keeping it all that I’ve looked into options for transforming them. Wallpapering my house with elementary art is not realistic. I could do some scrapbooking, but it would take up an entire bookshelf of scrapbooks to memorialize it all. And so there they sit in the box. It’s true…I feel guilt for keeping their elementary school artwork, so why would it be so hard to believe a mom feels guilt about keeping her baby’s onesies?
“I’m so happy I kept them.” When I think back on it now, I definitely hear the relief in that mom’s voice. Perhaps she felt guilt over storing something that’s deemed “clutter” or “useless” or “junk” to others, but the idea of repurposing them into a functional item she would be proud to say she had was a true relief.
You know what I said after finding out about artwork coffee table books like Artkive? “I’m so happy I kept it all!”