My shower used to be one of those chaotic corners of the house you don’t realize is stressing you out until you really look at it. Bottles tipped over, soap melting into a weird puddle, loofahs that were definitely old enough to be judged, razor caps lost to the void, and too many products I didn’t like but kept anyway because they were “almost finished.”
I wouldn’t call myself a perfectionist, but something about that mess started to bother me more and more. I’d step in, try not to knock anything over, and start my routine while mentally dodging the clutter. At some point, I realized I didn’t need half of it.
That was around the time I started trying to simplify things—not because I was going “zero waste” or anything noble like that—but because I was sick of my own crap. Too many bottles. Too many decisions.
I started with soap. I’d always been a body wash person. The kind with bright labels and unpronounceable ingredients. But I bought a bar soap one day on a whim. It was handmade, smelled like real stuff (lavender and clay or something), and didn’t dry my skin out. I liked it enough to switch.
Except… it would sit in the corner of the tub and slowly disintegrate into a mushy mess. Not cute. That led me to googling how to store bar soap better, and that’s how I found the best soap saver bag.
It wasn’t expensive. Just a little mesh pouch made of something natural, maybe sisal or cotton—I don’t remember exactly. You slide your soap in, wet it, and it lathers like crazy. It feels like a scrubby cloth but way gentler. When you’re done, you hang it up, and the soap dries out instead of melting into goo.
Simple, effective, no plastic tray required. It solved the exact problem I had without adding anything fussy to my life. I’ve been using it ever since, and it still surprises me how much better it feels than juggling a slippery soap bar or picking bits of soap off the tub floor.
Little changes like that led to bigger shifts. I didn’t overhaul my entire shower in a day, but I kept replacing things that annoyed me with things that didn’t. If something ran out, I’d ask myself: did I even like this? Or did I just finish it because it was there?
That’s how the loofah got kicked out. It was gross. It held onto water and never fully dried. I replaced it with a simple washcloth that actually dries between uses and doesn’t fall apart after a month.
Shampoo bottles went next. I swapped to a bar, which seemed scary at first, like something only people who hike barefoot would use. But the first one I tried worked fine. Better than fine, actually—it made my hair feel lighter and didn’t give me that “plastic film” feeling I sometimes got from fancy liquid ones. I didn’t have to squeeze out the last bit or flip it upside down and wait three days.
And then there’s floss. A small thing, but I’ve always kind of hated it. The little plastic box always jammed. The floss itself was too thin or too thick or would shred halfway through. I’d buy it, use it a couple of times, then forget about it until my next dental guilt spiral.
Then someone mentioned eco friendly floss that came in a refillable glass container. I gave it a shot because, again, I was sick of things not working. The floss was thicker, slightly textured, and way more satisfying to use. It didn’t break. It didn’t taste weird. It didn’t leave weird little fibers behind. And when it ran out, I just dropped in a refill coil—no new plastic box.
It’s not life-changing on its own, but when you pair it with a bunch of other small changes, your routine just feels smoother.
Now when I step into the shower, everything I use is stuff I actually like. There’s no mess of toppled bottles. No half-used products glaring at me with guilt. Just a bar in a pouch, a solid shampoo, a scrubby cloth, a razor that isn’t rusting, and a little glass jar of floss that sits quietly by the sink.
And here’s the weird part: I enjoy it more. I look forward to showers in a way I didn’t before. Not because I turned it into a spa or anything—it’s still five to seven minutes, maybe ten if I’m washing my hair. But there’s something nice about knowing you’ve edited the experience down to the essentials.
No more clutter. No more disappointment. Just things that work. Things that last. Things that don’t take more than they give.
I’m not out here preaching minimalism or eco-perfection. I still buy stuff in bottles. I still have a favorite conditioner that comes in plastic and I haven’t found a bar version to replace it yet. But I don’t buy things on autopilot anymore.
I’ve started to notice when something I use every day doesn’t actually do its job well. Or if it creates more problems than it solves. That’s where I draw the line now.
If it’s annoying? Replace it.
If it breaks after a month? Not worth it.
If I never look forward to using it? Probably not for me.
I still have a drawer, but it’s no longer a junk drawer. It’s a backup drawer. One bar of soap, an extra razor head, a floss refill, and that little soap pouch that, somehow, still hasn’t fallen apart.
It’s not perfect. But it’s calmer. It’s less wasteful. It’s more “me.”
And honestly, that’s all I was looking for.
