My sixteen-year-old son, Roshan, stands in front of me holding up a white thermal vest.
"Spark joy?" he asks.
A few months ago, that would have been an odd thing to say. That was before Marie Kondo, tidying guru and diminutive powerhouse, took the world by storm. By which I mean: thanked it kindly, gave it a good shake, folded it into equal thirds, stacked it neatly on its side in a pretty box and put it in a drawer.