8 “eco-friendly” things wealthy people do that working-class families have done for decades

There’s something funny about how trends work.

When wealthy people start doing something, it’s suddenly “eco-conscious,” “sustainable,” or “intentional living.” But when working-class families have been doing those exact same things for decades? It was just called “making do.”

We live in a time when living simply has been rebranded as a lifestyle choice. Mason jars are chic again, secondhand clothes are fashion-forward, and homemade meals are “mindful eating.” But for generations of people living on tight budgets, these habits weren’t optional. They were just the way things were done.

And in many ways, those modest habits were far more sustainable than any luxury green product ever could be.

Let’s take a look at eight “eco-friendly” things wealthy people are praised for doing today that working-class families have quietly done for decades without the hashtags or fanfare.

1) Reusing containers

Today, there’s an entire aesthetic around reusing jars and bottles. Social media is filled with beautifully organized pantries full of glass containers and handwritten labels. But if you grew up in a working-class household, that wasn’t about aesthetic minimalism. It was practicality, plain and simple.

Yogurt tubs became containers for leftovers. Coffee tins stored screws and nails. Pickle jars became vases, drinking glasses, and even homemade candle holders. Nothing went to waste because everything had a second life waiting for it.

I still have a peanut butter jar in my kitchen that I use for salad dressings. It reminds me of my grandmother, who could turn any “trash” into storage before the word “upcycle” even existed.

Wealthy households today call it “zero waste.” But in reality, reusing containers has always been part of an unspoken environmental ethic born not out of trendiness, but necessity.

2) Air-drying clothes

Walk through any working-class neighborhood in the ‘80s or ‘90s, and you’d see clotheslines strung between fences or across balconies. Laundry fluttering in the wind wasn’t a statement. It was just how you dried clothes.

Now, air-drying is being celebrated as an eco-friendly alternative to machine drying. Lifestyle blogs tout the benefits: lower energy bills, less fabric damage, smaller carbon footprint. All true, but none of it is new.

My mom used to hang laundry outside every weekend. We didn’t think of it as saving energy. It was just what we did because dryers were expensive and the California sun was free.

There’s also something beautiful about it. The ritual of shaking out a shirt, pinning it up, and smelling that sun-dried cotton later. It’s grounding. It connects you to the rhythm of nature. And maybe that’s the real sustainable part: the awareness it brings.

3) Fixing instead of replacing

In upper-class circles, people talk about “participating in the circular economy.” What they really mean is fixing things instead of throwing them out.

But this has always been second nature for working-class families. Sewing torn seams. Gluing shoe soles. Tightening screws on wobbly furniture.

I still remember sitting beside my grandmother as she repaired a hole in my jeans. “Good fabric deserves another chance,” she’d say, pulling the thread tight. Back then, there was pride in making something last. You didn’t toss something just because it wasn’t shiny anymore.

That’s real sustainability, not replacing broken items with “eco-certified” versions, but extending the life of what’s already in your hands. It’s not glamorous, but it’s the kind of habit that quietly saves both money and the planet.

4) Growing your own food

Wealthy people now talk about backyard gardens like they’ve discovered a lost art. Raised beds, drip irrigation, heirloom tomatoes, it’s all part of the “farm-to-table” lifestyle.

But working-class families, especially in rural and immigrant communities, have been growing their own food forever. Herbs in windowsills. Tomatoes in old buckets. Corn and beans in backyards.

When I traveled through Southeast Asia years ago, I met families who grew everything they ate on tiny plots behind their homes. They didn’t call it sustainability. It was just how you fed your family.

My parents grew vegetables too, even when we lived in small apartments. I didn’t realize it then, but it taught me self-sufficiency and gratitude. Watching something grow from seed to plate changes how you see food. You waste less. You respect it more.

Now that I have my own small garden, I get why people fall in love with it. But I also recognize it for what it’s always been. A simple, timeless act of resilience.

5) Walking and taking public transport

In cities across the world, taking public transportation is being reframed as a “green choice.” People are praised for biking to work or skipping flights for train rides.

That’s a positive shift, but let’s not pretend it’s revolutionary.

For millions of working-class people, walking and public transport weren’t lifestyle choices. They were the only options. You walked because you didn’t have a car. You took the bus because gas was too expensive.

When I was in my twenties, living in L.A., I used to walk miles between bus routes. At the time, it wasn’t about reducing emissions. It was about getting where I needed to go.

Funny thing is, I was probably living more sustainably back then than I do now.

The difference is privilege. When wealthy people take the bus, it’s applauded as eco-conscious. When working-class people do it, it’s often seen as a limitation. But in the end, both reduce emissions, and maybe the planet doesn’t care which reason got you there.

6) Cooking from scratch

The “slow food movement” and “clean eating” trends make cooking from scratch seem like a modern revelation. But home cooking has always been the backbone of working-class life.

Buying pre-made meals or eating out regularly was a luxury few could afford. So families cooked with what they had, beans, grains, potatoes, vegetables. They stretched ingredients, repurposed leftovers, and learned to flavor food with time and creativity instead of expensive sauces.

My mom could turn a single bag of lentils into three completely different meals. To her, it wasn’t culinary innovation. It was efficiency.

Now, people pay for workshops to learn “meal prep” and “sustainable cooking.” But cooking from scratch was never about trends. It was about nourishment, waste reduction, and community.

And honestly? It still tastes better.

7) Hand-me-downs and thrift shopping

Once upon a time, wearing secondhand clothes carried a stigma. Kids dreaded hand-me-downs from older siblings or cousins. Shopping at thrift stores wasn’t vintage. It was survival.

Fast forward a few decades, and secondhand fashion is a billion-dollar industry. Vintage denim, retro sneakers, pre-loved luxury handbags, it’s all in style now.

That’s great news for sustainability, but it’s worth remembering where it started. Working-class families have always been experts in reuse. Clothes weren’t discarded because they were last season. They were passed along, repaired, or repurposed.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I still remember my first “brand-name” jacket came from a thrift store. I was thrilled. It didn’t matter that someone else had worn it first. It was new to me.

Now I see the same idea celebrated as eco-conscious minimalism. And honestly, I’m glad it’s finally cool to care about what we consume, even if it took fashion influencers to make it mainstream.

8) Keeping appliances and furniture for years

Minimalism and “buying less but better” are modern buzzwords. But long before that became a philosophy, working-class families already lived by it.

When you bought something, you expected it to last. Furniture wasn’t swapped out every few years for a new look. Appliances were repaired, not replaced.

My dad still has a stereo from the ‘80s that works perfectly. He refuses to upgrade, not because he’s stuck in the past, but because, as he says, “Why fix what isn’t broken?”

Wealthy consumers now praise “timeless design” and “durable goods,” but they’re really rediscovering what used to be normal. Taking care of what you own.

This mindset isn’t about frugality. It’s about respect. Respect for resources, craftsmanship, and longevity.

When we keep things longer, we consume less. And that’s perhaps the most radical form of sustainability there is.

The bigger picture

Zoom out, and there’s a clear pattern here. Many of today’s so-called eco-friendly practices are simply rebranded versions of how working-class families have lived for generations.

It’s not that wealthy people shouldn’t embrace sustainability. Of course they should. But it’s important to acknowledge that much of what’s being marketed as “modern green living” is borrowed from people who learned to survive through resourcefulness, not abundance.

Sustainability was never meant to be glamorous. It’s meant to be mindful.

Working-class families knew that every dollar, every object, every scrap of fabric had value. That mindset, born from necessity, is exactly what the world needs now in an age of overconsumption.

True eco-consciousness isn’t about buying new “sustainable” products or following a minimalist aesthetic. It’s about adopting a mindset of enough.

The irony is that those who had the least were often the most sustainable of all.

Maybe the lesson here isn’t that the wealthy are wrong to go green, but that the rest of us have something to teach about what real sustainability looks like.

Because at the end of the day, the planet doesn’t care how stylish your reusable jars are. It cares that you’re reusing them.