FILE N°2 Stuff we hold on to
Move over Marie Kondo, we are clustering.
LET’S GET MESSY
With the holidays coming up this time of the year is always packed with really fun storytelling projects for clients, which is why my second dossier is only reaching you in November. That said, with gifting season upon us—and the much-dreaded or eagerly awaited (depending on your POV) Black Friday frenzy—it got me thinking about ‘Stuff’.
Heads up: this is a longer read, so your email may be truncated. Just click through to open it in your browser, and maybe grab a coffee or tea to enjoy while reading. And if any part of this dossier sparks something, don’t hesitate to reach out or leave a comment. I love sharing my thoughts and inspirations here, but this Substack is meant to be a conversation starter, not a monologue.
( Clutter tells us who you are )
In recent years, the Swedish practice of döstädning—or "death cleaning"—has spread beyond the country’s borders and become somewhat of a trend. It’s a next level Marie Kondo: going through your belongings to clear out anything you no longer use, so your family doesn’t have to after you pass away. Rationally, I understand the logic, but emotionally, I find it a little bleak.
I recently helped clear out a loved one’s apartment after they passed, and, yes, it was painful. But would it have been easier if there had been less stuff to go through? I’m not sure. More importantly, the process gave us the chance to sift through memories, to feel close to them again, and to remember how much we loved them. Would we have lost that chance if they’d already cleared away all their knick-knacks, souvenirs, and books—the things gathering dust but still holding traces of their unique quirks and interests? Or is it precisely those items that helped us remember who they were?
Matt Alt makes a convincing argument for the latter in his article The Joy of Clutter. In it, he contrasts the Western interpretation of minimalism with Japanese aesthetics that embrace memory, imperfection, and the warmth of ‘komono’ (small, personal objects that carry sentimental value). Rather than focusing on strict tidiness, this approach values personal collections that tell stories about their owners. Clutter, then, is the result of “the inevitable chaos of lives being lived.” And instead of getting rid of it, we should celebrate it.
The caveat is, of course, that clutter needs to be intentional. No one dreams of living in a hoarder’s nest, but as Alt notes, “I don’t feel oppressed by my clutter because it is clutter with which I have chosen to surround myself. My clutter is me.” Meaningful clutter has an element of curation—it's deliberate and personal. This is why a cluttered space captivates people much more than a minimalist room: visual clutter sparks curiosity and motivates visitors to discover something new.
Alt’s powerful observation that “clutter offers an antidote to the stupefying standardization of so much of modern life” really resonates, especially after a decade dominated by Kyle Chayka's concept of ‘Airspace’. When algorithms make everything uniform, clutter becomes an opportunity to express personality again.
These insights are more than just permission to embrace my inner collector—they’re also informing advice I’m giving to some of my clients in retail and hospitality. To help them stand out in their market segment, it makes sense for them to define a style of ‘clutter’ that aligns with their identity, and incorporate that in their spatial designs, visual merchandising, and lifestyle photography to help them express who they are in new and creative ways.
( We’re all clustering )
‘Cluttercore’ has been an aesthetic trend since 2020, so it’s not exactly new, but it shows no signs of fading away. In fact, I’m noticing lots of new influences emerge from this embrace of ‘organized mess’ and attaching personal meaning to small, ordinary objects. They’re searching for a sweet spot between excess and bare minimalism—finding either end of the spectrum unsatisfying.
This is what makes cluttercore feel more like a movement than a trend, and why we’re seeing entire communities spring up around its different variations. Avery-Claire Nugent launched Girls Who Cluster a little over a year ago, creating a treasure trove of inspiration and a comforting space for incurable collectionneurs, allowing them to feel seen and appreciated by a like-minded community.
The account celebrates the art of ‘clustering’ your favorite little trinkets—displaying them in little ceramic dishes or wooden bowls, covering your coffee table or other furniture’s surfaces with them, or collecting them on coat hangers and in baskets. And if you find yourself lacking in cluster-able items, Girls Who Cluster helpfully designs and sells merchandise that is of the ideal size and quirkiness.
Another particularly joyful cluster-community was created by Martina Calvi, better known as @martinamartian on Instagram. A self-described “sentimental crafty girl”, she fills her feed with pictures of charms on sneaker laces, collections of trinkets in plastic shopping baskets, and flatlays of the many items she packs into her bags and pouches. But the highlight of her content is her scrapbook journal, filled with receipts, ribbons, printed photos, stickers, and anything else that catches her attention.
Her vibrant, messy-but-intentional aesthetic has been dubbed ‘Martina-core’ by her many devoted fans, who eagerly snapped up her book The Art of Memory Collecting when it was released last month. The book serves as a guide to an elevated version of ‘junk journaling,’ most accurately described as embracing cluttercore without needing physical space to accumulate actual clutter. You paste into your diary what you might otherwise toss away, preserving that “memory trigger” to capture how something made you feel.
For those less enamored by the physical, tangible aspect of clutter and junk journaling, Natasha Ahmed created a digital scrapbook template editable in Canva. You can fill it with digital photos and illustrations, as Natasha helpfully and inspiringly demonstrates on her own, immensely popular, Instagram feed.
Things made for clustering
✱ In 2022, artist and relief printmaker Ana Inciardi launched her first print vending machine, which dispenses small art prints in exchange for four quarters. The prints come out at random, turning each purchase into a surprise and a little story of its own. Not only does this make art a more affordable and accessible part of everyday life, but it also perfectly embodies the concept of creating meaningful clutter for those who buy (or go on to collect) them.
✱ Earlier this year, the New York Times tried to convince us the last decade hasn’t happened1 and this couple in New york opened up the first analog photo booth in modern times. Never mind the thousands of photo strips that have already been collected by millennial hipsters all over the world, accumulated and displayed in cluttercore-avant-la-lettre fashion. Yet it’s true that the popularity of the photo booth continues to grow. Years ago, you could only find them in some hipster hotels or museum lobbies, but now entrepreneurs are even opening brick-and-mortar spaces dedicated to housing their photo booths (like this one in San Francisco, and this one in Amsterdam).
✱ Clustering took center stage in the fashion scene this year, too. Street photographers captured endless shots of people with bags weighed down by oversized clusters of charms and keychains—one memorable woman even wearing them in her hair. Established brands like Balenciaga, Loewe, Louis Vuitton and Miu Miu are capitalizing on the trend with a wide range of accessories perfect for clustering, while brands like Sticky Zoo seem built entirely around this aesthetic.
✱ Another brand that tapped into the cluster trend from their very conception, is Printworks. The entire premise of the brand is to create products people would want to put on display, such as photo albums that look like coffee table books, and classic board games in beautifully designed packaging. With the holiday season approaching, they’re sure to be a favorite on many gift guides in the coming weeks.
( Cheaper than therapy )
In a society that is growing increasingly wary of overconsumption, it might feel counterintuitive to embrace this apparent need for people to accumulate stuff. But when we define clutter as memory triggers, it becomes something meaningful and valuable, even if the objects as such are not necessarily costly or precious.
In their Future Consumer Forecast 2026, WGSN described an interesting concept in the context of consumer mindset. Glimmers, as coined by psychotherapist Deb Dana, are “small moments of positivity that can combat negative emotions.” They are “the opposite of triggers, including micro-moments of joy, comfort and safety.” And the more we perceive our world as volatile and hostile, the more we look for things that can lift our mood.
To me, it’s clear that the whole clutter/clustercore movement stems from this very feeling. Whether justified or not, we collectively carry a deep pessimism about the future, and in many areas, we feel increasingly powerless. While we can’t control the world’s news, we can shape our personal spaces to reflect positive memories and sentiments. Surrounding ourselves with meaningful clutter becomes an easy and appealing way to bring a sense of comfort and control into our everyday lives.
For lifestyle brands looking to support customers in this movement, the key is to find an approach that best aligns with their brand identity. Developing merch feels like a natural choice: creating accessible yet quality items that serve as memory triggers and allow customers to relive their experience with your brand.
Retailers focused on creating memorable experiences can do this by selling small token items at the counter—little souvenirs to their shopping destination. I was recently in Nice and wandered into Trésors Publics: a store filled to the brim with everyday products, all produced in France and iconic in their genre. I didn’t need anything, but I got a set of pencils to think back of my visit to Nice and this store as I write my notes.
The hospitality industry has long used memory triggers to foster loyalty among clients, and the rise of cluttercore has certainly fueled the recent surge in restaurant merchandise. When restaurants offer a matchbook with the check or sell branded tableware and glassware, they become part of their customers' at-home experience. Similarly, hotels that leave complimentary notepads or postcards in rooms encourage guests to jot down memories of their stay—keepsakes that might later find a spot on the fridge.
Or, your hotel could become part of a full-blown art project, as in that of Los Angeles-based painter Michael McGregor’s exhibition and book “Room Service.” This book, incidentally, is going straight onto my holiday wish list—McGregor’s playful drawing style and use of hotel notepads (my personal favorite category of merch) promises endless joy whenever I spot it amid my artfully clustered pile of coffee table books.
To wrap up, I’d like to connect these ideas on meaningful clutter and the communities it inspires to the concept of ‘treat culture.’ As is well documented in many articles—such as The Financial Times’ take on the “lipstick effect”—and noted in nearly every trend report, people tend to postpone or forego big-ticket purchases during tough economic times. Instead, they turn to small, affordable luxuries that symbolize or signal the lifestyle they aspire to, creating moments of comfort and joy in a way that feels attainable.
Many of the items people in cluster communities proudly display in their curated collections are inexpensive—even items others might discard, like ticket stubs or receipts. Yet, it’s telling that these same photos of clusters often feature Chanel nail polish, extravagantly expensive coffee table books, and other subtle markers of a luxurious lifestyle. It’s a reminder that if and when the economy improves, and the craving for small luxuries subsides, the pendulum could very well swing back toward minimalism.
There is much more to say about clutter and clusters and the girl-codedness of it all, but I am already so grateful you decided to read this one all the way through to the end. If you thought any of the things in this dossier were interesting or inspiring, please consider forwarding this mail to someone who might like it, too. And if you think of any topics you’d like me to take a deep dive into next, please send me a message or enter the group chat on the site ;)
See you next month!
Cheers,
Steph
To be fair to the NYT, they aren’t the only ones who inaccurately refer to these vintage photo booths as a ‘Gen Z’ resurgence. So did the Wall Street Journal and countless other online publications. It’s so very millennial of me to feel attacked by this.