The story below is from our May/June 2025 issue. For more stories like it, Subscribe Today. Thank you!
What is underconsumption? And can you still have a beautiful home if you aren’t buying new stuff?
Have you heard about No Buy 2025?
Fatigued by rising grocery prices and the overwhelming amount of content featuring conspicuous consumption (think Sephora haul or product unboxing videos on social media), a growing no buy movement has been gaining traction online.
The rules are simple: Make a list of non-essential items and pledge not to purchase them for a period of time.
With marketing strategies invading our inboxes, text messages and all the content we consume, it feels like an inevitability that at some point all of the ads and notifications begin to feel like junk. How much stuff do we really need, anyway?
I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I love stuff. Homes without books or collections don’t make sense to me. As pretty as a Scandinavian-inspired room with white furniture and a single potted Monstera can be, I am never going to feel comfortable lounging on the couch. If I sit on that couch at all — I might require a full hospital-grade surgical gown and those little paper booties to make sure I don’t mess anything up. I have a kindergartner and several pets; you just never know.
For me, a house only feels homey when there are things around, especially the kinds of things that tell me about the person who lives there. Cozy blankets and too many throw pillows; photos or artwork that invites me to step in and look closer; a half-drunk cup of coffee and a plate from breakfast with some jam on the edge. If kids or pets live there, I’m expecting there to be toys and food dishes, even a few stains or a small rip in one of the couch cushions that has a story behind it. All of these things are signs of a home that is loved and actually lived-in — essential to a space that could be described as warm, welcoming and safe.
At the same time, I have gone on my fair share of decluttering rampages in my house.
Unable to set my glass of water down because every surface has Legos or mail or books lying open on top, or tripping over one too many dog chews and nearly stepping on the cat, I’ve been known to pick up a half-unpacked Chewy box still sitting by the front door and, dumping the contents on the floor, announce that if there’s anything anyone wants to save, they better come get it now. Furiously stomping through the house, I’ll proceed to sweep whatever’s on every countertop into the box, then let the momentum carry me through each room until I’ve accumulated everything from clean laundry that’s been sitting unfolded for too long at the end of our bed to my tangled laptop charger and my kid’s entire stuffed animal collection into the excess reusable bags I’ve been collecting for the past decade. “It’s all got to go!” I shout to my family, who know me well enough by now not to take any of this too seriously.
How did we end up with so much stuff? I always want to know. “Do you really want me to answer that question?” my husband responds.
After the initial wave of social media consumption videos hits its peak, the inevitable backlash of “underconsumption” videos started cropping up. In the same way influencing inspired the “deinfluencing” trend a few years back, creators who’d grown weary of the endless onslaught of social marketing started making content to push back on the pressure to consume. While “deinfluencing” ended up being more about giving negative reviews for viral products, underconsumption has its roots more in sustainability, asking us to reconsider single-use products or replacing perfectly good items we already own for aesthetic reasons.
Underconsumption, essentially, asks us to think more critically about our lifestyles through the lens of waste. It isn’t necessarily about not buying anything at all, but about resisting trends, valuing function over style and ultimately deciding that who we are doesn’t have to be expressed through the endless accumulation of stuff.
I recently saw a post that hit a little too close to home:
“My wife’s toxic trait is she wants to declutter the house, but also wants to keep every sentimental item and she’d like a minimalist home, but lots of personality, but she needs less stimulation and also the house has to feel cozy and lived in…”
The original poster, Shannon Leyko, is host of The Paring Down Podcast and author of the book “You’re Completely Normal: Trading Where You Think You Should Be For Where You Want To Go.” Though she’s recently known for her decluttering content on social media, she says that the end goal isn’t a minimalist, perfectly tidy home. Instead, Leyko aims to shift the emphasis off of the stuff so that we can focus more intentionally on what truly gives our lives meaning.
Here’s what I love about Leyko’s outlook: instead of swinging from one extreme to another, she asks us to consider the messy middle. We don’t need to throw everything in our house away or stop buying all non-essential items to find peace and meaning in our lives. We also won’t find happiness by redesigning our whole home or finally creating the perfect mid-century modern living room. On her blog, aptly called The Expert Beginner, she instead explores how we can evolve through the various phases of life as we actually live them, with an intentional approach to the stuff we gather along the way.
There’s no question that the beautifully styled homes we see on social media can make the real life spaces we inhabit feel cluttered and chaotic. So when new home trends are forecasted (for 2025 there’s been a lot of ‘home wellness spaces’ and integrated outdoor/indoor living, for example) it can be tempting to think that reaching for these aesthetics will be the answer. We’re looking, as designer and blogger Kate Arends of Wit & Delight says, not just for a new chair or lamp or wall color, but for a lifeboat. “Like, if I can just get this right, maybe I’ll feel more settled, more sure of myself. Like the perfect coffee table could erase the wine stain living beneath it. Spoiler: It doesn’t.”
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While we might not be articulating these motivations to ourselves like this, the restless feeling to just fix the discomfort we’re feeling with the new shiny thing is nothing new — it’s deeply human, and exactly the experience that marketing is built around. We understand suddenly that we have a problem, that we are living in the “Before” picture and now that we know this we have an intense desire to get to the “After” as soon as possible. “We’re looking for the promise of a total makeover without the patience or acceptance that true transformation asks of us,” Arends says.
Sometimes, underconsumption or buy nothing movements can feel so restrictive that they have the opposite effect on us. Like a crash diet that gives us quick results, the rebound can sometimes come fast and unexpectedly, landing us in the same place we started — or maybe even somewhere worse! If we want to address our waste and clutter sustainably, we have to find a method that works for us.
I think it starts with resisting the urgency created by flash sales, constant ad notifications and the frenetic pace of a culture interested in immediate results. Instead of making a list of items I’ll pledge not to buy this year, I can implement a mandatory pause before purchasing these things. Whether it’s decided based on a price threshold or how “essential” they are, maybe a no-impulse-buy method is one with more staying power. I’ve found that by waiting, I can usually tell pretty quickly if I actually want something or not by reviewing the list a week or even a few days later. I can’t tell you how often I’ve discovered that I’ve already forgotten about a number of the things that, in the moment, felt like a real wrench to leave behind. Now I see it as money still in my account and junk I don’t need to declutter.
The more I’ve practiced the pause, the easier it’s been to admire something momentarily and then let it go. I can tell more readily now when an item is something I could really love and use, and when it might be more of a fling.
As I’ve eased into my own version of underconsumption, I’ve found that the items I’ve kept and the few I’ve purchased have risen in value to me. If they’ve made the cut, surviving the occasional weekend purges and the mandatory purchasing waiting period, then they are something I will really care for. And the stuff we live with, use and truly love will never be a waste.
The story above is from our May/June 2025 issue. For more stories like it, Subscribe Today. Thank you!