Sentiment and the Shelf: How Professional Organizers Navigate Attachment to Their Stuff

Professional organizers say they experience the same pull of sentiment that many people feel toward cherished objects. The work, they note, is not simply about tidying up; it is about making space for memory without letting it overwhelm the home. Katie Hubbard, a professional organizer at Turn It Tidy, described how personal loss can intensify that pull: “I completely understand how sentimentality can make it really challenging to let go of things that remind us of our loved ones, even more now since losing my dad.” Dina Smith, founder of Closet Therapy with Dina, agreed that attachments often accompany identity and life milestones: “Sometimes, we form attachments because they hold pieces of our identity, memories, or even aspirations. For me, the hardest items to let go of are gifts from my kids and things that are attached to a pivotal time in my life.”

A central strategy in navigating these feelings is a deliberate pause. When an item carries emotional weight, Hubbard says she tries to assess its significance before deciding whether to keep or let go: “When I feel an emotional attachment but know I don’t need it, I take a moment to think about the significance. I enjoy taking time to reflect on the memory.” If the tug is tied to guilt or fear, she adds, identifying the feeling and releasing the item can help. If the attachment is rooted in positive memories, she may sit with the feeling a bit longer as a way to honor the sentiment. This mindful approach is widely echoed among organizers, who emphasize balancing memory with space.

To preserve memory without clutter, many organizers advocate documenting items through photography. Regina Lark, a veteran organizer, urges a simple maxim: “Keep the memory, not the mess.” That mindset translates into practical steps, such as snapping a photo of a meaningful object before parting with it. Hubbard notes that taking photos creates an easy, space-saving way to revisit moments: “If possible, before getting rid of an object, I might snap a photo.” That approach also supports a broader organizational philosophy: create memory-aligned albums or digital collections so memories remain accessible without occupying physical space.

Another widely cited tactic is to curate, rather than accumulate. Lisa Zaslow of Gotham Organizers typifies a practical boundary: “I pride myself on being ‘practically sentimental,’ but even I get tripped up sometimes. It’s the kid drawings of people that really get me. I choose to keep a small amount of this artwork to keep the sentimental items manageable and thus truly special.” For Zaslow, quality trumps quantity, a sentiment reinforced by others who caution against letting a large volume dilute meaning. Julie Naylon of No Wire Hangers Professional Organizing adds that less can be more when sentimentality is involved: “You can’t keep it all, but you can keep some. Identifying what is truly meaningful for you will help you discard the rest.”

A common thread is transforming sentiment into usable, shareable forms. Naylon urges clients to consider the future of objects: whether they will see daily use, or simply sit in a box. “If possible, use sentimental items daily or display them as decorations,” Hubbard says, giving examples like aging keepsakes repurposed into décor or functional pieces. For her, a family relic becomes a visual anchor rather than a clutter magnet: “My dad’s Navy sword could just gather dust in a closet, but I proudly hang it alongside other military decor. This way, it’s not just stored away. I walk by it every day and find inspiration in my memories of my dad.”

The conversation often turns toward how families might engage with memory across generations. Weinstock emphasizes a thoughtful, family-centered approach: “Sentimentality is about quality, not quantity. More quantity makes everything less valuable. The goal is to edit down a collection so it truly reflects what matters most.” This aligns with a broader strategy: devise a system that works for you and your sentimental items, whether it’s a wedding dress, old holiday cards, children’s clothing or a Little League bat. Bohne adds that the ultimate objective is a home that feels both highly functional and deeply personal—honoring the past without letting it dominate the present.

When sentimental items do enter the discard bin, many organizers advocate finding them a new home. Lark explains that passing belongings along—whether to family, friends, or charitable organizations—can soften the emotional edge of letting go. “If a clothing item has been hanging around for a while and I’ve decided it’s time to go, I might give it to my mom, who lives next door—and since we wear similar colors, she’s happy to take it on,” she notes. Other times, the item’s future life may be in donation or resale, a path that can feel more purposeful than simply discarding. Naylon also suggests repurposing items to be part of daily life: “Will it sit in a box for the rest of my life? If not, consider framing photos or turning keepsakes into a quilt.” Signal to the reader that sentiment can be integrated into daily life rather than stored away indefinitely.

Yet not every item earns a permanent seat at the memory table. Zaslow is explicit about trimming away items tied to negative associations: “I don’t keep items with negative emotional attachments. I don’t hold on to gifts I don’t like out of guilt. I don’t feel bad about what I may have paid for them.” Aside from emotional relief, she points to practical payoffs—resale opportunities on platforms like Poshmark or Depop can recoup costs while clearing space. The overarching philosophy is not to erase memory but to align it with a practical living space. For some, that means setting a fixed limit on keepsakes. Hubbard describes a personal rule: a single bin or two for keepsakes, with regular reevaluation when the container begins to overflow. As Lark puts it, “There are memories we want to preserve, but don’t need constant reminders of.”

The rhythm of memory, space and structure extends to ongoing practice. Zaslow recommends periodic check-ins—perhaps annually—so that sentimentality remains a living, manageable part of the home. “If I don’t need the space and the item has overall positive associations, I tend to keep it, but I’ll store it neatly or tuck it away until it’s time to reassess,” she says. For parents, the balance often includes planning what to pass down to children without overwhelming them with a trove of keepsakes. Smith notes the value of dedicated keepsake boxes for each child—baby blankets, hospital wrist IDs, and other mementos—that allow memories to be preserved in a structured way rather than scattered across drawers and boxes.

The thread running through these practices is not a rigid rule but a philosophy: memories live in us, not in the objects that surround us. As Bohne summarizes, the aim is to preserve stories through thoughtful storage, display or daily use, while editing away the excess so space remains functional. In the end, the goal is a home that reflects what matters most, with sentiment integrated rather than overwhelming the living environment. This approach recognizes that memory can be a living part of daily life if managed with intention and care.

For those who want to apply the same mindset at home, the itinerary is straightforward: reflect before you keep, photograph what you can’t bear to part with, curate with quality over quantity, consider new homes for items, and schedule regular reviews. The exact mix will vary by household, but the underlying truth remains consistent: love and the stories that shape us can live in the space we create around our belongings—and in the people who share those spaces with us.

As the field of professional organizing grows, so too does the understanding that the work is as much about psychology as it is about closets. The practices described by Hubbard, Smith, Lark, Zaslow, Naylon, Weinstock, Bohne and others illuminate a culture in which memory, identity and home coexist with tidy systems. In culture and entertainment circles, these conversations about sentiment and space offer a window into how people choose to live with their pasts—keeping what matters, letting go of what does not, and designing environments that honor both memory and daily life.