7 things minimalists never keep in their homes (and why you shouldn't either)

When I left my corporate finance career a few years ago, I moved into a smaller place and had to make some tough choices about what to keep.

That process turned into something unexpected: I became a minimalist.

Not the Instagram-perfect kind with three items of clothing and a single houseplant. More like someone who realized that holding onto stuff was costing me peace of mind, space, and money. After years of working 70-hour weeks and accumulating things I thought I needed, I started questioning what actually added value to my life.

The shift happened gradually. I'd come home from my early morning trail runs to a cluttered space that made me feel anxious before I'd even started writing for the day. That's when I realized my environment was working against me, not for me.

If you're thinking about simplifying your life, here are seven things you'll never find in a minimalist's home and the surprisingly good reasons why.

1) Duplicate kitchen gadgets

Walk into a minimalist's kitchen and you won't find three different types of peelers, two coffee makers, or a drawer full of utensils they never use.

I used to have this elaborate collection of kitchen tools. A spiralizer I used once. A bread maker that sat in the back of a cabinet. Special knives for things my regular knives could handle just fine.

When I downsized, I kept what I actually reached for. As someone who cooks vegan meals from scratch most nights, I learned that a few quality tools work better than a drawer full of gadgets.

A good chef's knife, a sturdy cutting board, one reliable pot, one pan. That's really all you need.

The money I saved by not buying every new kitchen gadget? It went into my savings during those first financially tight years after my career change.

2) Clothes they haven't worn in a year

If you haven't worn something in a year, you're not going to wear it. Minimalists know this and act on it.

I held onto my corporate wardrobe for way too long after leaving finance. Those expensive suits, the dry-clean-only blouses, the uncomfortable heels I wore to look "professional." They took up half my closet while I lived in running gear and comfortable clothes for writing.

One weekend, my partner Marcus helped me bag up everything I hadn't touched in twelve months. We donated six garbage bags of clothes. And you know what? I haven't missed a single item.

Now my closet has space to breathe. Getting dressed takes five minutes instead of twenty. And I actually wear everything I own.

3) Books they'll never read again

This one's tough for a lot of people, but minimalists don't keep books as decorative objects.

I'm someone who reads voraciously across psychology, philosophy, and memoirs. For years, I kept every book I'd ever read, thinking my overflowing bookshelves made me look smart or well-read. They mostly collected dust and made moving a nightmare.

The shift happened when I asked myself: what purpose are these books serving? The ones I genuinely reference or might reread stayed. The rest went to the library donation bin.

These days, I keep maybe 30 books at any given time. I get most of my reading from the library now. And honestly? My space feels clearer, and I appreciate the books I do own much more.

4) Old electronics and cables

Minimalists don't have a drawer full of mystery cables, ancient phones, or devices they can't remember how to use.

When I was cleaning out my storage, I found three old laptops, two broken phone chargers, and about fifteen cables I couldn't identify. I was keeping them "just in case" I needed them someday.

That day never came.

Old electronics become obsolete faster than we think. That five-year-old phone isn't going to work as a backup. Those cables for devices you no longer own serve zero purpose. And if you haven't needed that external hard drive in three years, you're not going to suddenly need it tomorrow.

I took everything electronic I hadn't used in two years to a recycling center. The mental space I gained from not having that drawer of chaos was worth more than any hypothetical future need.

5) Excessive decorative items

Look around a minimalist's home and you'll see intentional decoration, not surfaces crowded with knick-knacks.

After helping my aging parents downsize last year, I saw firsthand how decorative objects accumulate. Souvenirs from trips, gifts people felt obligated to keep, little figurines that "might be worth something someday." Most of it meant nothing to them anymore.

I came home and looked at my own shelves differently. The decorative bowl I got as a gift but never liked. The candles I never burned. The framed art I'd stopped noticing years ago.

I kept what I genuinely loved and what told a story I wanted to remember. Everything else went. Now the few pieces I do display actually mean something instead of just taking up space.

6) Magazines and old newspapers

In the age of digital everything, keeping physical magazines and newspapers makes little sense. Minimalists know this.

I used to subscribe to five different magazines and would stack them on my coffee table, thinking I'd read them eventually. They'd pile up, making me feel guilty about the unread stack every time I walked past.

One day during my weekly cleaning, I realized I could count on one hand the number of articles I'd actually read in the past six months. The rest was just visual clutter and a source of low-level stress.

I cancelled all but one subscription. If there's an article I want to save, I take a photo or bookmark it digitally. My coffee table is clear, and ironically, I read more now because I'm not overwhelmed by options.

7) "Someday" items

This is the big one. Minimalists don't keep things for a version of themselves that doesn't exist yet.

The exercise equipment you'll use when you "finally get serious" about fitness. The art supplies for when you "have more time" to be creative. The fancy dishes for when you "start entertaining more."

I had a whole box of camping gear from a phase in my twenties. I hadn't been camping in over a decade, but I kept telling myself I'd get back into it. That box sat in my closet taking up space while I went trail running 5-6 days a week instead.

When you hold onto "someday" items, you're holding onto a fantasy version of yourself rather than accepting who you actually are right now. And that creates this weird tension between your real life and this imagined future that may never come.

I donated the camping gear to someone who would actually use it. And you know what? I felt lighter. Not because the box was heavy, but because I'd stopped carrying around this obligation to become someone I wasn't.

Final thoughts

Becoming a minimalist wasn't about deprivation. It was about making room for what actually matters.

My smaller space costs less, which matters when you're building a writing career from scratch. My morning routine is simpler because I'm not navigating around clutter. And honestly, I spend way less mental energy managing my stuff.

You don't have to go full minimalist overnight. Start with one category. Ask yourself what's adding value and what's just taking up space. The physical space you free up is nice, but the mental space is even better.

Because at the end of the day, the things we own should support the life we're actually living, not the life we think we should be living.