Storage space is one of those phantom creatures that everyone wants but can never find or create enough of. It's a constant game of cat and mouse; organize one area just to acquire more shit in another, and forever chasing that pivotal moment when everything is unrealistically in order. With only one linen/coat closet combination for the whole house, I play this game often and try to be creative with every single nook and cranny I can get my stubby little hands on. Cue the underutilized laundry room as my next victim. 

​Being from far West Texas, I don't fit many of the style stereotypes associated with the folks who live in the East portion of my blue bonnet state. And although I've come to terms with the fact that a cute endearing accent will never be a part of who I am, there's one undoubtedly Texas trait I brought with me to sunny Arizona; BIG ASS jewelry. Turquoise, amber, coral, give me allllll the big earthy rocks, pah-lease! 

I first conceptualized the hierarchy of towels as a young child taking baths at my grandmother's house. Even as the favorite grandchild (don't burst my bubble, mmkay?) emerging from the tub sopping wet, I was FORBIDDEN from reaching for her perfectly hung, lace trimmed, pink coordinating towel set conveniently hanging on the towel rack adjacent to the tub. In her house, all bathing beauties were required to use the crunchy cabinet towels that still somehow smelled clean despite them being used and washed more years than we'd been alive.