No Clutter? No Way!

During this last season, the management of Mt. Sunapee enacted a “clutter-free” requirement in its lodges. (Here’s one publication that thinks it’s a great idea.) No street shoes left on the floor while customers are out snowboarding or skiing. No extra pieces of clothing on the table. No coolers or crockpots full of food or drink left on the table. Nothing. Everything goes into lockers. Did I mention that the lockers are coin-operated?

My first reaction to the announcement–I was going to reprint it here, but I’ve tossed out the magazine in which I read it–was that this sounds pretty much like the kind of language that you’ll hear from a company when it wants to squeeze more money out of you, like when the a note in the bill from your cable company says “Please notice that we have adjusted [READ: raised] your rates.”

Do some people object to clutter? Certainly, but it’s been a big part of the lodge landscape in many ski areas.

I’m not sure where this next lodge is, but this next author describes a scene I know well:

“By 3 pm, we had retreated to the lodge to eat a snack, compare bruises, and rest for a while. I know that ski lodges in movies have comfy furniture, and fireplaces, and hot tubs, and sometimes famous actors wearing tap shoes, but our ski lodge is nothing like that. The lodge is a big room filled with picnic tables piled with backpacks, coolers, brown paper bags, and wet clothing. You hardly ever see anyone burst spontaneously into song or tap dance across the floor. But sunlight does come in through the big windows, and the chaos of people constantly coming and going, peeling off clothes or putting them on again, makes it a friendly place.”

An anti-clutter policy for a lodge? In the extreme situation, it’s understandable. But I wish there was a third way. A lodge without some clutter is like a mountain without snow.