They say that the surface of a woman’s dresser tells you a bit about her personality. (Who says? Well me, though perhaps others too.) If the dresser is wiped clean, with a single lonely object, or no object at all, She is organized, strict, tidy. Other words and phrases come to mind: not impulsive, minimalist, routine-loving, thoughtful, mindful. Likewise, if a woman’s dresser is covered in dust, knick knacks, hair ties, and jewelry askew, She is the following: creative, busy, tired (possibly), a lover of the bigger picture, messy, driven by more important things than specks of dust in the atmosphere.
As usual, I fall in between the two extremes; lost in the valley.
My dresser is usually covered with countless things that are either useful, beautiful, or memories, but I do like to do a good wipe down every so often. The shawl was a gift from my mother, the perfume held tenderly on a daily basis, the thrifted ballerina represents myself, the amethyst purchased from a Nashville spiritualist set up in the farmers market. Perhaps most precious is the card an Indian customer once sent me as a thank you for helping him at work.
It also serves as my night stand, so you will find essentials like hand cream, lip balm, and ear plugs.
However, there is a rhythm to it all, with each piece serving a purpose and being cleaned somewhat regularly. Things that do not serve a regular purpose are stored within the drawers. Because of the leaf shaped handles, I like to view it as a forest, but that is the adventurous carefree side of me.
The rest of me is the first woman, and so I am forever stuck being in the middle ground. And what is wrong with that?