My first apartment after I graduated from college was a tiny space in a converted slum of a house where the curtains blew in the breeze and turning on the heat caused the circuit to trip and leave the entire house without electricity. Good times. (And by “good times” I mean “thank the lord above that I didn’t have to live there for too long.”) My bedroom—barely big enough to hold my bed and desk—had no closet.
I wish Amazon had existed back then, so I could’ve nabbed this double-rod closet for just $35 shipped; it works as a free-standing arrangement, or can be adapted to work inside an actual closet. As it was, I think all I had was an assembly of milk crates and despair to use for clothes storage.
I’m about to go full-out “you kids today have it too easy!” on you, so I’d just slowly back away and grab that closet, if I were you. Just saying.
My first apartment after I graduated from college, I complained several times about a leak in my bathroom ceiling, apparently from the bathtub upstairs from me. Then my bathroom ceiling fell into my bathtub one morning. But I had plenty of closet space!