Edel Coffey: Marie Kondo made me think of how many of us are locked in a death match with perfection

Edel Coffey: I’m glad Marie Kondo has given herself a break from tidying. Picture: Ray Ryan

We were having a guest around last weekend. The guest was male and he was coming to watch rugby. I realised this is my ideal guest as I tidied away stray phone chargers, hairbands, an absent-mindedly abandoned pair of socks. I wondered aloud could we get away with doing just a cursory tidy. My husband shrugged and said: “Men don’t really notice that stuff.” I realised I do a very gendered level of preparation for different categories of guests.

For trusted friends from the inner circle, the house remains at its most real — very clean but at ease with any evidence that a family might live here. For female acquaintances I don’t know very well, I take a toothbrush to the skirting boards. For male guests, I do a quick hoover, make sure the bathroom is clean and the fridge is stocked with food and beer.

I was thinking about all of this in the context of the tidying queen Marie Kondo’s announcement that she had sort of given up tidying since having her third child. No mystery there, I thought. The third child will separate you with brutal efficiency from any desire to continue the Sisyphean task of tidying up. But while everyone was whooping about the fact that Marie Kondo had finally caved and admitted she was just like the rest of us, something niggled.

If you looked at her statement, it was very carefully calibrated, replacing one gendered moral duty for a slightly superior one because, having spent years decluttering other people’s homes and having built an actual empire on tidying, Marie Kondo knows a thing or two about the moral universe of female perfection.

She knows, for example, that tidying is morally weighted. She couldn’t just come out and say: “I’ve given up tidying up because I’m fed up with it.” Or: “Tidying is a giant waste of my very precious time right now because my toddler keeps pulling all of the neatly folded T-shirts out of every drawer in the house and if I have to pick up one more individual piece of Lego and ask if it’s sparking joy I’ll scream. Three children, one global tidying empire, and a tidy house? It’s too much!”

Marie Kondo knows that women who fail to keep tidy homes are viewed as morally corrupt. She had mopped herself into a corner and she couldn’t get out of it without leaving a set of messy little footprints until — eureka! — she hit upon the perfect exit strategy.

She took the only road open to her, the only possible thing that might trump the moral sanctitude of a perfectly tidy home... The moral sanctitude of perfect motherhood.

Kondo’s explanation as to why she is not tidying so much anymore went like this: “Now I realise what is important to me is enjoying spending time with my children at home.”

It was the physical embodiment of the Instagram sentiment “excuse the mess we’re making memories”. And Kondo knows that’s checkmate. There’s no comeback, no argument and no debate over allowing your house to be messy in favour of the unassailable moral high ground of spending quality time with your children.

You see, women can’t just say they’re changing their expectations or standards around tidying because it’s impossible to keep on top of things with three small kids.

It’s OK to make a deal with yourself that things will be clean and hygienic, but maybe not as beautifully sleek and minimalist as they once were, but admitting this to others? Well, that’s too close to admitting failure.

Kondo’s statement made me think of just how many of us, particularly women, are still locked in a death match with perfection. Perfection is our standard for so many things, from our bodies to how we parent to how organised our homes are, and if we don’t rise to meet that standard, it can feel like, and is often judged as, personal failure.

Just look at the cleaning and decluttering influencers we have embraced. Not only do they have beautiful homes and children but they themselves are often very beautiful, and that standard has not helped anybody’s idea of what their homes should look like or what they themselves should look while they are attempting to remove mildew with half a lemon.

Whether or not your house is tidy has no bearing on your worth as a person. It’s just another stick to beat yourself with. It’s high time we uncoupled tidy homes from any moral value.

I’m glad Marie Kondo has given herself a break from tidying. In fairness, she has never been judgmental about untidiness and always suggested that everybody should find their own version of tidiness. I love it when my house is neat, tidy, clutter-free, and spotless and I try my best to keep it that way because it really does spark my own personal joy. But it’s sometimes good to remind myself, especially as a guest is just about to arrive, that it’s enough — and I’m enough — when my house is clean and functional.