Part 01: How to move your entire life across country with ease.
March 20th marks the first day of spring — the astrological New Year, the seasonal reset, the quiet permission slip to begin again. And this year, for us, it marks something much bigger than a wardrobe swap or a fresh bouquet on the table.
It marks a relocation.
Usually, our spring migration back to the East Coast is temporary. We pack thoughtfully, close up our Los Angeles life, and settle into another rhythm for a few months before returning. But this time, we’re not packing for a season. We’re packing for a shift.
We’re leaving Los Angeles, at least for now, and that changes everything. When a move is temporary, you edit lightly. When a move is open-ended, you edit your life. And that’s where the real organization begins.
The pre-move organization checklist.
I am, in every stereotype-affirming way, a Virgo. I do not trust movers with heirlooms. I do not trust “miscellaneous” boxes. I do not believe in chaotic labeling. If it matters, I touch it, wrap it, and account for it myself. So before a single box was taped, I created a system.
Not just for logistics, but for clarity. Because moving is less about cardboard and more about decisions. Before you hire anyone, before you book transport, before you panic-buy bubble wrap, you need categories. Clean ones. Non-negotiable ones. So, here’s how I divided mine:
01. Ship Ahead
Items that are essential but not critical are shipped ahead in boxes. These are the things I’ll want soon, like specific kitchen tools, out-of-season clothing and shoes, and extra linens. Shipping ahead keeps our cars lighter during transport and our carry-ons easier to manage.
02. Ship With the Cars
Small plants, household gadgets, books, and linens we’ll need immediately can be shipped with the cars. This is where I pack things I emotionally care about, want to access with ease, and that can’t be easily shipped.
03. Put in Storage
This is the hardest category for me. Storage is a negotiation with my future self that forces the question: Do I really need this? Seasonal decor. Extra furnishings. Office equipment. If I haven’t used it in a year and can’t articulate when I will, I’m not storing it.
04. Donate or Gift
The cleanest way to lighten a move is generosity. Clothing that no longer fits or reflects who I am. Books I’ve read and integrated.
Kitchenware I upgraded from. Letting these go makes the new space feel intentional rather than inherited. So, I am making a pile of items to donate and one for my friends and neighbors in Los Angeles.
05. Sell
Pieces that deserve another home, such as furniture, equipment, or decor that don’t align with my next chapter, will be sold. Selling isn’t about recouping money, as I will never get back what I paid for my items. It’s about circulation and keeping beautiful things useful.
06. Carry On the Flight
The non-negotiables. Important documents. Jewelry. Daily skincare. A week of versatile wardrobe staples. Laptop, chargers, notebooks, contracts. This category is about sovereignty. If everything else were delayed, lost, or held up, what would I need to feel composed? That’s what comes with me.
The emotional side of organizing.
A pre-move checklist isn’t just practical. It’s psychological preparation. When you sort your belongings this way, you’re quietly answering bigger questions:
Who am I now?
What do I truly use?
What was aspirational clutter?
What belongs in the next version of my life?
For many of us, especially women who have built businesses, homes, and identities in multiple cities, our belongings are layered with meaning. Therefore, organization becomes an act of authorship. You’re editing your life down to what fits the next version of you, to what is essential, your manifestations, and that’s pretty powerful.
