9 purchases I stopped making once I realized they were terrible for the planet (and my wallet)

Have you ever looked around your home and wondered how much of what you buy actually adds value to your life?

I had that moment not too long ago, standing in my kitchen, staring at a half-used pack of cleaning wipes and a pile of empty food containers that couldn’t be recycled.

It hit me: the convenience I’d been buying was coming at a much higher cost than I’d realized.

As designer Ilse Crawford once said, “Good design is more than the way it looks. It’s about wellbeing and making life better - not just for us, but for others and the environment.”

That line stuck with me because it reminded me that every purchase is a design choice, a design for the kind of world I want to live in.

After years of working in finance, I used to view purchases through a purely economic lens. What’s the cost? What’s the return?

But over time, I’ve come to see that the true cost of our consumption isn’t just what leaves our wallets. It’s what ends up in landfills, in our oceans, and in the atmosphere.

The good news? It’s easier than you think to start making small, meaningful changes.

And believe me, cutting out these nine purchases didn’t make my life any harder. It made it richer, simpler, and far more aligned with the kind of person I want to be.

Let’s dive in.

1. Bottled water

It started with a simple question: why was I buying something that literally flows from my tap?

I used to grab bottled water out of convenience, especially on hikes or errands, but once I realized that millions of plastic bottles never get recycled, I made the switch to a reusable stainless-steel one.

The water tastes better, it stays cool longer, and I’ve saved a surprising amount of money.

There’s also something empowering about not contributing to the endless stream of single-use plastics.

Now, I fill up before heading out, and it’s one small habit that reminds me every day that sustainability doesn’t have to be complicated.

2. Fast fashion

I used to treat clothing as disposable, buying trendy, cheap pieces that would lose shape after a few washes.

But one day I realized that “on sale” doesn’t mean “low cost” when you factor in the environmental price tag.

The textile industry is one of the biggest polluters on the planet, and fast fashion is at the center of it.

These days, I invest in quality pieces that last and shop secondhand more often. The best part? My wardrobe feels more me, curated, comfortable, and free from impulse buys.

True style, I’ve learned, has very little to do with what’s new and everything to do with what feels authentic.

3. Single-use coffee pods

I’m a big coffee drinker, and for a long time, I justified using pods because they were convenient.

But when I read about how much aluminum and plastic waste they create, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. So I switched to a French press and started buying fair-trade coffee in bulk.

Now, making coffee has become a mindful ritual rather than a rushed routine.

I take a few extra minutes in the morning, enjoy the aroma, and start my day knowing I’m not adding more plastic to the planet. Small change, big difference.

4. Packaged cleaning products

For years, I was drawn to those brightly colored bottles promising to “kill 99.9% of germs.”

But as I dug into what’s actually inside, I realized I was paying for water and chemicals I didn’t need, plus more plastic waste.

A friend introduced me to DIY cleaners made with vinegar, baking soda, and lemon, and I’ve never looked back.

My home smells fresher, my wallet thanks me, and my conscience feels lighter. It’s funny how something so simple can shift how you think about “clean.”

5. Excess groceries

Here’s one that surprised me: food waste. I used to stock up like I was preparing for a snowstorm, only to throw out wilted greens and expired yogurt weeks later.

As the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) notes, “In the U.S., 30 to 40 percent of the food supply is never eaten, wasting the resources used to produce it and creating many environmental impacts.” That statistic hit home.

Now, I plan my meals more carefully and buy what I know I’ll actually eat.

It’s not just better for the planet, it’s also made me more intentional with food, which, ironically, has made me enjoy it more.

6. Disposable razors

At first, I thought switching to a safety razor would be a hassle. But after tossing countless disposable ones into the trash over the years, I finally tried it.

Turns out, it’s cheaper, gentler on my skin, and honestly kind of satisfying to use.

It’s another example of how our habits often stick around out of convenience, not necessity. Once you challenge them, you realize that simplicity almost always wins.

7. Trendy tech gadgets

Remember when smart scales, fitness trackers, and the latest phone models felt essential? I do.

I used to upgrade my gadgets regularly, convincing myself it was for “productivity.” In truth, it was just habit and marketing.

When my old phone finally stopped working, I replaced it with a refurbished one. It performs just as well, costs a fraction of the price, and didn’t contribute to the growing pile of e-waste.

Sometimes, “new” isn’t better, it’s just louder.

8. Cheap décor and trinkets

For a while, my home was filled with little “cute” things I thought I needed, tiny vases, trendy wall art, decorative signs with cheesy quotes.

But after a few months, most of them ended up in storage or the donation pile.

Now, I buy décor intentionally, handmade pottery from local artists, thrifted wooden frames, or plants that breathe life into my space.

Each item has meaning and longevity. My home feels calmer, lighter, and more personal.

9. Paper towels

This one took me longer to let go of than I’d like to admit. They’re convenient, sure, but they also contribute to deforestation and unnecessary waste.

I’ve replaced them with washable cloths and old T-shirts cut into rags. They do the job just as well and have saved me hundreds of dollars over the years.

As I made these changes, something unexpected happened: I started feeling more grounded, more connected to the things I own, and more at peace with the rhythm of my life.

These choices grow out of awareness and a desire to live more consciously.

Final thoughts

When I look back, I realize that cutting out these purchases wasn’t just about saving money or reducing waste, it was about redefining what “enough” means.

For so long, I equated convenience with progress, and more with better. But in truth, the more I stripped away, the more freedom I found.

These changes also made me more aware of how much of my behavior came from habit rather than choice.

It reminded me of something I recently read in Rudá Iandê’s new book Laughing in the Face of Chaos: “You have both the right and responsibility to explore and try until you know yourself deeply.”

That line struck me because it’s not just about spiritual growth, it applies to how we consume too.

Every decision we make, every swipe of a credit card, is an opportunity to ask, Does this align with who I want to be?

The book inspired me to question not just what I buy, but why I buy. Was I filling a need or a void? Was I acting out of alignment with my values?

When I started asking those questions honestly, my consumption naturally slowed down. And paradoxically, my sense of abundance grew.

We live in a culture that rewards constant upgrading, new phones, faster cars, shinier homes.

But when we stop chasing “more,” we start noticing what actually matters: connection, creativity, contentment. The things that last.

I don’t believe in perfection. I still buy the occasional convenience product. I still make mistakes.

But I’ve learned that progress is about noticing when you do and gently steering yourself back on course.

So if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the idea of living more sustainably, start small. Pick one thing, maybe bottled water or fast fashion, and let that be your starting point.

With each conscious choice, you’re not just saving money or helping the planet. You’re reclaiming your power as a thoughtful participant in the world, not just a passive consumer.

Because at the end of the day, living lightly on the planet also means living lightly within yourself.