I’m already concerned this entire post is going to roughly translate to, “Be less hygienic,” but here we go!

My main thesis? Procter & Gamble has us in a chokehold with the number of products we’re convinced we need to keep our hair, clothes, and bodies clean. The reality is, most of us are probably way overdoing it (and overspending both time and money in the process). 

That said, as we learned when wealthy, white celebrities went on the record claiming they didn't find bathing to be all that “necessary,” discussions of hygiene have different implications and consequences for people of color. I want to clarify up front that I'm not suggesting we shouldn't keep ourselves clean—just that we've been sold a bill of consumer goods around what constitutes “clean” that's probably straining your morning routine and wallet far more than necessary.

After reflecting recently on a few of the “FI transitions” that actually stuck (read: changes I made when I decided I wanted to retire in my thirties on a $60,000 income a few years ago), I wanted to pull together a list of the shifts I’ve made that save me time and money, two things we could all use a little bit more of. (Especially when seasons of Love is Blind and Bachelor in Paradise release simultaneously and we’ve got a lot of TV to keep up with.)

While I usually prefer to focus on big-ticket life changes, sometimes it’s nice to revisit little lifestyle shifts that can compound over time. Even if it doesn’t seem like it would make that big a difference, when we’re discussing things that you do every single day (or every few days), the results tend to accumulate substantially. 

These are small, tactical things that have a disproportionate ROI that you can implement immediately—in this instance, most of these changes are more sustainable, too. 

With that said, let’s dive in. 

No. 1: You really don’t need to wash your clothes every time you wear them.

Before anyone writes me off as a Bilbo Baggins-ass hobbit hole troll, consider this study they did on a pair of jeans that some Canadian dude wore for 15 months straight before washing them (evidently he wanted the skinny jeans to…fit better? I’m not really sure). 

After 15 months of use, they found some bacteria on the jeans, but nothing harmful, health-wise. Everyone was like, “Huh, that’s weird—I guess clothes that aren’t touching expressly gross parts of your body don’t really get dirty?”

While this is a really extreme example, I noticed in college (when I lived amongst a ton of sorority women) that it was commonplace to wash something after every single wear. Blouses, jeans, skirts—it didn’t matter. But treating your clothes as though they’re single-use is an issue for a few reasons:

1. Washing machines are really hard on your clothes. You’ll likely need to replace clothes more often (and find they lose their shape/color/fabric density faster) if you’re washing your clothing after every single wear, which can make your wardrobe budget hella bloated.

2. The water and detergent costs from frequent washes may not seem like much, but they add up—especially if you’re using hot water and a product like Tide Pods that tend to be more expensive per wash. (Just don’t eat them, okay? I do not miss that phase of internet stupidity.)

3. You literally just don’t need to. Underwear, shirts that are tight under your arms, workout clothes you’re sweating in, socks…obviously, these are all single-wear. I’m not a pilgrim. But your fancy Madewell blouse? Dark wash jeans? Flannels? As long as you’re not sweating in the clothing and you’re putting them on a clean, post-shower body, there may be no reason to subject clothes to a wash after every wear.

Many of my favorite items in my closet are 7–10 years old and ones I don’t wash too often. A cream sweater from Urban Outfitters that I get compliments on to this day? Bought it in 2013. A black Abercrombie sweater dress that goes with everything? 2012. A pink J.Crew chambray shirt? 2011! I don’t have a set number of times I’ll wear something before I throw it in the wash, but I try to trust my nose—if it doesn’t smell like anything but my detergent and perfume, it’s probably fine to re-wear.

You’ll replace your clothes less often, spend less money on water and laundry detergent, and you’ll spend less time washing, drying, and putting away laundry. And for those of you without a washer/dryer at home, there’s the time and expense of going to a laundromat, too!

No. 2: While we’re on the topic of not over-washing, let’s talk about hair.

I used to wash my hair every single day. And it wasn’t only the shampoo and conditioner that were getting used on a daily basis as a result, but all the heat protectant sprays, smoothing serums, and styling products, too. 

Then I met a hair stylist who told me she only washed her hair once per week, and I was like, “Wait, are you disgusting? Or am I?” 

At the time, I had to wash my hair daily, because it would get greasy by the evening. I thought I was just a grease factory that required constant scrubbing to keep the oils at bay.

But the stylist told me something that blew my mind: Your hair is not meant to be washed that much, and when you strip your scalp and hair of its natural oils every single day, it basically goes into freak-out overproduction mode and tries to compensate by generating a lot more of it. 

She encouraged me to try spacing out my washes every other day, then every three days—and while there was a gnarly phase of greasy ponytails for a few weeks, now I can wash my hair every fourth or fifth day when it finally becomes genuinely dirty. (To be clear: You should probably still shower every day, you just don’t need to wash your hair—I put mine in a towel wrap.)

This can absolutely be taken too far; washing your hair too little tends to create scalp buildup, so don’t get crazy—but your hair should return to its natural state if given the chance to.

I warned you this was going to be gross.

I still buy salon-quality shampoo and conditioner (usually $50 for both) so I’m not cheaping out on my hair, but since I’m only using them twice per week, they last a lot longer—and so do the ancillary products.

Going from doing something 7x per week to 2x–3x per week means you’ll have to replace your products less than half as often, and spend less time in the morning washing, drying, and styling your hair. 

No. 3: Some of the things we #ladies need are indisputably single-use. 

Think tampons and makeup wipes.

(Non-menstruators and fresh-faced beauties, feel free to skip this section.)

Every single month, you probably need to buy some ~feminine hygiene products~, right? A 36-count box of tampons will probably set you back about $10, which isn’t extreme, and that’s likely enough to last two months (give or take; I won’t make any assumptions).

IYKYK.

While $60 per year on tampons isn’t likely to break the bank, it’s a bit of a “repurchasing” life sentence (well, until you get to menopause, I suppose). 

I switched to a Cora Cup (a one-time cost of $38) instead, and found that it creates one fewer item I have to remember to pick up at the store and—bonus points—is way more environmentally friendly, since you’re not disposing of a ton of cotton every month and panicking your landlord by flushing things you’re not supposed to.

(Is internalized misogyny the reason I feel so awkward right now? Editor’s note from Henah: Yes, it is.

Our bodies are beautiful, right? …right? Editor’s note from Henah: Yes, they are.)

There are a few other examples of “reusables” in this category (period underwear, reusable pads, and so on), but this one seemed the most reasonable to me—and I haven’t bought tampons since.

Same goes for makeup removers. 

If you’re wearing makeup five days per week, you’re going through 300 makeup wipes per year. The standard Neutrogena makeup wipe pack is around $6 for a 25-count, so not a terrible investment—but again, an item that has to be continuously repurchased. (And fancier makeup remover products can easily range from $15–$40/pop.) 

I ended up switching to the Makeup Eraser, a pack of five reusable microfiber pads (just get ’em wet and they’ll take the makeup right off). Toss them in with your laundry and they come out perfectly. It’s $20 once and never again.

Anyway, I hope you don’t think less of me now that you know I’m a #dirtygworl.

But that’s kinda my point: It’s not dirty! 

I’m still hygienic; I just don’t have time to wash my sweatpants every time I wear them or blow-dry my hair every day. A bitch can’t be bothered, all right? Life’s too short!

While these changes likely won’t be financially life-changing, taken together, they can free up some extra time and money every month without meaningfully requiring much effort from you: disproportionately high benefits for making very minor changes.

Between the smaller things (like tampons and makeup wipes) and the bigger items (like an arsenal of less frequently replaced haircare products, fewer loads of laundry, and clothes that last longer), I’d estimate you’ll probably claw back a few hundred dollars per year (maybe a thousand, depending on the extent).

But what’s even more valuable to me? The simplicity introduced and time saved. 

What could you do with a few extra hours of time every week?

What could you (and, perhaps, specifically women, who tend to face more of these types of tasks and purchases) do with that extra ~hour each morning and the saved cash? 

Sleep in, walk the dog, write, start a side hustle? It’s not like you’d have to use that time productively, but you could.