Our unique Winnie Wins System was created by Faye’s business partner and organiser extraordinaire, Winnie Preston. Winnie created this system to help our clients declutter and stay organised long after we leave.
Step 1: Whirlwind– Winnie arrives at your house as a whirlwind of positive energy. You can’t help but be swept along with her bubbly enthusiasm as she blows through your untidy garage or cluttered closet, sorting your belongings into what to keep and what to get rid of.
Step 2: Intention– This is where Winnie helps you to set an intention for your space. She’ll guide you on a visualisation exercise to help you see a positive future for yourself. It sounds a little bit woo-woo, but we swear it works!
Step 3: Neutralise– During this stage, you have to get rid of all the barriers that stand in the way of staying neat and organised and achieving your vision for this space. Winnie helps you build a systemyou can stick to.
Step 4: Sustain– We’ve done the hard work, now it’s up to you to keep going with the plan! If you think you need additional support during the sustain stage, you can book a Winnie Wins Sustain package – get 20% off when you book with Faye’s Picture Perfect Home Makeover package.
Show off a before/after reel of your space on Instagram and tag #fayearnolddesigner #winniewinssystem – we love to see your progress!
CHAPTER EIGHT
WINNIE
Unknown Number: Winnie, it’s Ken, your mother’s neighbour. Love, are you coming over soon? She’s getting out of hand again. There’s a giant pile of plastic dolls by the letterbox – Barry came home from work late last night and nearly had a heart attack when he saw them leering at him. I’m afraid we’re going to have to call the council again.
With my playlist blasting, Alaric and I get into an organising groove. By the time I glance at my phone screen, we’ve sorted over half the enormous pile and it’s past midnight. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. All I’ve had since lunch was those pastries in my room.
I stifle a yawn. “I think we should call it a night.”
“Of course – your feeble body requires rest.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Who are you calling feeble? I moved all those heavy locomotives by myself, thank you very much.” Although Alaric was fitter than I expected, lifting antique tables with one handand rushing about with cacti-filled terrariums without ever being out of breath. I try not to imagine the muscled, fit body beneath those stuffy, old-fashioned clothes, but I fail. I smile at him. “You need rest, too.”
“I prefer to rest during the daylight hours.” Alaric glances out the window, his expression unreadable as he regards the moon.
“Even so, it’s not easy to be ruthless with your stuff like this, but you’ve done amazingly well tonight.”
He really has. With the exception of my mum, who doesn’t count, Alaric is the messiest client I’ve ever had, just a few rungs below full-on hoarder. But unlike many clients, he’s engaging with the organising process. Once he got over his initial grumpiness, he genuinely seems to enjoy making decisions about his stuff. We already have several bags of rubbish – mainly broken tools and materials he’d been keeping “just in case”. His mind enjoys categorising things, but living all alone in this huge castle has allowed him to get so distracted by his imagination that he hasn’t noticed things piling up.
I’ve been surprised at how fun it’s been for me, too. A lot of my clients are condescending and defensive about their habits. Most of my first day is spent convincing them that I’m not judging them.
But Alaric’s face lit up whenever I held up a train or painting that he was particularly fond of. He placed them lovingly in their respective piles, sometimes offering me details about their construction that he was particularly proud of. Honestly, I never found trains particularly interesting until tonight, but Alaric could talk about paint drying in that deep voice of his and I’d listen.
Actually, hedidtalk about paint drying for a bit.
It was surprisingly hot.
So hot that I’m still awake at nearly 1 am, and this is usually around the time when …
“I am heading to the sitting room for a nightcap,” Alaric says stiffly. “Would you care to join me?”
“I’d love to.” Immediately I regret how overeager I sound. I stand up, brushing dust and bits of train off my purple suit. My stomach rumbles again. “Will there be food?”
Alaric rings the call button on the wall in the hallway and speaks into an intercom. “Reginald, I am ready for my nightcap. Ms Preston will be joining me, and she requires sustenance.”
A weird way to phrase that, but Alaric’s odd, old-fashioned way of speaking has endeared itself to me over the evening. I follow him as he shows me into an opulent bathroom to wash my hands (Electricity! And running water! Such luxury!), and then escorts me up a narrow flight of stairs to a small sitting room decorated in jewel tones and hung with some of his intricate tapestries.
The room is surprisingly bare of Alaric’s hobbies, with only a small stack of ceramic mugs and a couple of half-finished embroidered cushions on a folding table beside the blazing fire. A wobbly pile of books teeters beside it.
Alaric folds his long, lean body into a well-worn wingback chair beside the fire and indicates for me to take the chair opposite. I sink down gratefully, not realising until this moment how tired my limbs are and how cold I’ve become. Castles aren’t exactly designed to capture the summer sun. I turn my hands to the fire, enjoying the warmth soaking into my bones.
“You were cold.” Alaric frowns.
“Weren’t you?”
