From The Times
January 5, 2008
The woman who remade Tamara Mellon's closets
Coolhunter mets the woman whom the Jimmy Choo creator says "changed my life". But can an organised closet mean a better life?
Organised knicker drawer
Tina Gaudoin
Practical Princess comes highly recommended. “She changed my life,” enthuses the elegant accessories tsar Tamara Mellon over pre-lunch drinks, But then if you had a wardrobe the size of Winchester, you might be glad of the help. “Oooh,” says the good-natured Mellon, “it’s not that large.” The girl beside her chokes on her champagne cocktail. “It’s not,” she shrieks. “It’s even bigger.”
Elika Gibbs, aka “the Practical Princess”, says she saw the future while toiling in the Mellon closets. “I thought, it actually doesn’t matter how big or how small your wardrobes are – we’re all busy, we all need organising.” How right she is. Lest you think this is another one of those fascist fashion columns (I’m guilty – I wrote one once) about how to chuck out all your clobber, it’s not. Gibbs doesn’t believe in diktats. “If you like it, then you keep it,” she says. “It’s how and where you keep it that counts.” She insists on seeing my wardrobes, which I gamely resist for about five minutes. “You must,” urges Mellon. “You have to experience the difference.”
Gibbs arrives early one Monday morning like a leggy blonde lurcher in a parka. She is all action. A deputy Practical Princess wades in behind her bearing boxes of Gibbs’s own coat hangers, shoe boxes, etc. My biggest issue with PP, other than the fact that I’ve had to chuck out a few really revolting things from my closet before she arrives, is that the majority of us cannot afford a wardrobe makeover – Gibbs charges £450 per day for her services. “Aha,” says Gibbs. “That’s where you are wrong.” Her website offers tips and insights into how to effect a sea change in your closet. “And you can buy the hangers, boxes and scented drawer liners – they are not expensive.” And with that PP goes to work.
A few hours later I return to a transformed wardrobe. Gibbs waves a massive bag of metal coat hangers at me. “These are the heroin of storage,” she exclaims. “They ruin everything.” Knickers line up like Coldstream Guards at the Palace; shoes are boxed. Later, she sends me pictures of the shoes via e-mail to print out and stick on (you can buy the software on her website). “It’s a matter of common sense,” says PP, who has organised my wardrobe into colours – all the black, navy, grey and brown dresses, cardigans and coats hang together. Gosh. Do I really not have any colour in there? “Well,” says Gibbs pragmatically, “I always say that once a wardrobe is organised, you can see what’s missing.”
The joy of PP is that not only can you see your clothes, but you can appreciate them. My honeymoon (now vintage) Louis Vuitton luggage peeks proudly from the top of the shelf. I hate to admit it, but Gibbs has changed my life, too. You could do a lot worse than going to www.practicalprincess.com and taking her advice… We all need a Practical Princess in our lives. I feel a TV series coming on.
coolhunter@thetimes.co.uk
While the bf dozes, I am still awake. Had a major anxiety attack for no apparent reason--other than the million things stressing me out right now. Why is it that when my head hits the pillow all my worries seem to float up to the surface? I'm sipping tequila out of a bar shot glass, hoping I can numb myself and get some sleep. We have an early morning flight tomorrow for Espana. To be honest, I would rather stay home and get some work done. It's supposed to be a b-day treat for my other; however, as he has made known in word and deed, it is not exactly what he'd hoped for. Tell me about it. I thought I would be married by now, and I'm still waiting for a fucking confirmation of that proposal received three years ago. Sigh . . . 
