Wendy Arundel and I were fast friends in college—two Virginia girls who’d found each other in the vast New England wilderness. Both graduates of all-girls’ schools, both Southerners navigating a very different world, we gravitated toward each other with the magnetic pull of kindred spirits.
I marveled at her dorm rooms in college. They were exceptionally organized—the bed was always made, her desk immaculate, pencils sharpened, folders standing at attention.
But it wasn’t until I visited her family’s mountaintop farm that I understood where Wendy’s organizational genius truly began. When I stumbled into the family’s mudroom at their home in The Plains, it was revolutionary.
The space functioned like the world’s most sophisticated mailroom, but for life itself. Beyond the expected shelves, baskets, drawers, and cabinets, there were cubbies—dozens of them—for each family member, plus every pony, dog, cat, and farm worker, crowned with a shiny brass nameplate: Wendy, Sally, Peter, Mom, Dad, Rascal …
It was organizational poetry in motion.
Fast-forward decades, and Wendy has built an organizing empire that spans the East Coast. She dispenses wisdom—virtual and in-person—to overwhelmed clients, armed with a philosophy that’s equal parts practical magic and psychological insight.
“Think of me as part Mary Poppins, part house doctor,” she tells me, and honestly? The comparison is perfect. She swoops in with advice and her mysterious bag of tools, diagnoses domestic disasters with surgical precision, and somehow makes the impossible seem effortless.
Wendy’s magic is decidedly real-world, rooted in decades of understanding how spaces shape our lives and how the right systems can transform chaos into calm.
Wendy added labeled jars and bins to organize this pantry. Photos courtesy of Wendy Arundel
Wendy Arundel, age 7, demonstrating an early aptitude for organizing.
Madeline Mayhood: How did you discover your calling as a professional organizer?
Wendy Arundel: One day in 2005, my friend Belinda asked me to help her find order in her basement disaster. Basements are where postponed decisions go to die. After a couple of hours sorting, “Billy” threw in the towel, but I was not having it. “We’re not done!” I pleaded. “You need to do this for people,” she said. “You’re really good at it.” I was so energized by her suggestion, I Googled the word “organizing” and realized it really was a thing. I joined NAPO [National Association of Professional Organizers] and am still a member 20 years later.
MM: What’s the story behind your business name, The Mud Room?
WA: I landed on The Mud Room in homage to our family entryway that my dad set up in both our Virginia homes, in McLean and The Plains. We were five Arundel children, plus lots of friends and animals coming and going through those mudrooms. Each family member, regular visitors, and the cats and dogs had name labels, first in old-style embossed Dymo tape [the brass name plates came later].
MM: What do you hear from clients when they first contact you?
WA:“I’m completely overwhelmed” is what I hear most in the beginning. Their common refrain is, “I have that, but have no idea where it is.” Disorganization happens because we have too much stuff and not enough bandwidth to figure out where to put it all.
MM: What’s in your famous Mary Poppins bag?
WA: In my life as an organizer, I’ve been tidying messy rooms with a bag full of useful surprises. I produce scissors, screwdrivers, picture hooks, shelf pins, Sharpies, Command strips, a letter opener, a labelmaker, file labels, and even a tiny whisk broom. They’re all stowed in my dog carrier-turned Mary Poppins bag. It’s like a medical kit for domestic emergencies.
MM: What’s your best advice for maintaining an organized home?
WA: If there was one organizational habit to learn to keep clutter at bay, it’d be to stay true to the one-in-one-out rule. One reason I lean into minimalism is that studies show the brain has to work harder to filter out non-essential information before it can focus. It seems a waste of a finite resource to have to sift through a jumble of junk before you find what you need.
MM: What’s your organizing philosophy?
WA:My cousin Anne came up with the tagline I use for my business, “Own your life, not more stuff.” The minimalist in me chooses to buy less, own less, and commit to less. I’m telling you, it’s freeing. TheMudRoom.org
This article originally appeared in the October 2025 issue.
