I recently took my daughter shopping in readiness for her return to a university house share. Having prepared myself for the usual onslaught of requests for inessential ‘essentials’, I was pleasantly surprised when she mentioned she'd quite like a set of stackable food containers. Further discussion revealed that her intentions were to start meal planning, and it occurred to me that there are few things that better symbolise growing up than the moment a person makes the decision to get organised, pre-plan and start a tupperware collection.
My father used to say that most people could not navigate effectively through life without a metaphorical map and some preparation. That approach pervaded everything from his major life choices to the day-to-day management of his household. He was the type of person to have a place for everything and everything in its place. He had a particular penchant for tupperware storage containers, which was partly a relic of frugal post-war domestic life, but it was also much more. These seemingly unremarkable containers were part of what enabled him to feel a sense of control and order at home when the world outside felt chaotic. Each container had a specific purpose and there were never too few or too many for his needs.
Humans naturally crave order (or at least some of us do). It promotes a sense of calm and wellbeing and undoubtedly improves productivity. Is there anything more satisfying than having an excuse to get organising our drawers and cupboards? It gives us a welcome sense of purpose. And it's almost equally pleasing to admire other people’s level of organisation. It’s why so many of us are drawn to look at other people’s immaculate kitchen spaces in magazines (and increasingly in TikTok videos). The labelled tupperware, neatly stacked containers in fridges and alphabetised tags on pantry shelves are often symbols that we use to display our level of control, our on-it-ness.
It might be a stretch to conclude that an organised fridge or pantry reflects our time management skills or propensity for getting a job done, but it can seem that way for anyone whose cupboards remain on the messy side. I can certainly relate to that desire for control in our domestic spaces. I too have a walk-in cupboard filled with helpful storage aids and multiple containers that sit in an orderly fashion and look attractive to the eye. If I ever feel stressed or overwhelmed, sorting out the pantry always provides a cathartic outlet. But every yin has its yang, and I try not to think about the other side of the larder, where a haphazard pile of empty containers sits waiting to spill off the shelves.
The problem comes when we are constantly being tempted by stylish images or fresh new systems that will help us feel like we have it together. We are continually encouraged to keep adding to our collections in the hope that we’ll eventually feel in control, but the reality is that it often results in an endless cycle of acquiring things. And this inevitably leads to the type of chaos that we’ve been trying to escape in the first place.
My sense is that there are two camps of ‘Tupperware’ collectors. There is the type, like my father, who is innately organised, keeps a minimal amount of containers to suit their purpose and needs, and knows when to stop. These ‘collectors’ are probably not obsessed with aesthetic considerations or projecting an image of perfection – the tupperware is just a means to an end. Then there are those who, in the guise of serial organisers, fall instead into the category of secret hoarders. These are the people who can’t help falling for the next shiny set of pretty stackable containers in the hope that this will be the set that finally makes a difference to their lives. It's a bit like having a self help book addiction. In reality, theirs are the drawers and cupboards that are precariously jammed shut, filled with a mass of stuff that could easily stage a rebellion and tumble out at any given moment.
As she made her final choice of containers, I wondered which type of tupperware collector my daughter would turn out to be: organised, in control and minimal, or outwardly drawn to the idea of being organised but inherently (and secretly) chaotic. Time of course, will tell, for if reaching adulthood means making sensible and practical decisions about our homes, then perhaps actual maturity necessitates knowing when to stop and realise that our cupboards are already full.
