Underconsumption Core Is Just Poverty Repackaged as an Aesthetic (And Why That Bothers Me)

The Verdict: The underconsumption core trend gets the underlying principle right—use what you have—but the way it's being marketed as a "choice" for people who could afford new stuff is peak privilege performance. The good news? You can adopt the actual useful parts without the performative aesthetic. Keep the mindset, toss the hashtag. (lol)

---

I bought a $38 face serum with my own human money last month because the TikTok algorithm decided 2 AM was the perfect time to show me a 47-part "underconsumption core" series. The creator was scraping the last drops of product out of a glass jar with a tiny spatula, talking about how "satisfying" it is to "honor the product's full life cycle."

Reader, I have never felt more seen and more annoyed simultaneously.

Because here's what underconsumption core actually is: it's using things until they're empty. It's wearing clothes until they have holes. It's squeezing the last bit of toothpaste with the back of your toothbrush handle. It's what my grandmother did because she grew up during the Depression, what working-class families do because rent exists, and what literally anyone with a functional brain does when they don't want to waste money.

But now it's an aesthetic. And that aesthetic is being sold back to us.

The Trend, Deconstructed

Underconsumption core started circulating on TikTok in late 2025 and hit full viral velocity in early 2026. The formula is simple: creators show themselves using products down to the absolute last molecule, repairing clothes instead of replacing them, and displaying empty containers like trophies of restraint.

The hashtag #underconsumptioncore has racked up hundreds of millions of views. The aesthetic is minimalist, beige, organized. Everything looks like it belongs in a Muji catalog. And the subtext is always: I could buy new things, but I'm choosing not to because I'm evolved.

Let me be clear about something: there's nothing wrong with using what you have. That's literally the foundation of fiscal sanity. My problem is with the framing.

The Math on "Choice"

Here's where I need you to look at the actual numbers with me.

Average US household credit card debt: $7,000+.
Percentage of Americans living paycheck to paycheck: roughly 60%.
Cost of a single "aesthetic" underconsumption core restock video haul: often $200-400 in "curated" sustainable products to... consume less.

Do you see the disconnect?

The creators driving this trend aren't people who genuinely can't afford new skincare or clothes. They're people filming themselves in ring lights, using $60 reusable glass containers to store their bulk-bought oats, and talking about the "mental clarity" of owning exactly three shirts. All while collecting ad revenue from the sustainable brands they're "not" buying from. *(yes, really)*

There's a creator I won't name who posted a "day in my underconsumption core life" video that included:

• A $45 linen produce bag set (to replace... plastic bags? Which were free?)
• A $120 "forever bottle" for cleaning solution refills
• A $78 vintage wool sweater that she "mended herself" (materials for mending: $23)

Total spent to consume less: $266.

That's not underconsumption. That's just consumption with extra steps and better lighting.

The Privilege of Performance

The most honest take I saw on this trend came from a comment on one of these videos: "I've been wearing clothes until they fall apart my whole life because I grew up poor. It's not an aesthetic for me, it's just Tuesday."

That comment has stuck with me because it perfectly captures what's grating about underconsumption core.

When you have enough money that not buying something is a "practice" or a "mindset shift," you have fundamentally different economic footing than someone who simply cannot buy the thing. The "satisfaction" of using the last drop of moisturizer hits differently when the alternative isn't "buying a new one tomorrow" but "going without moisturizer for three weeks until payday."

This trend has managed to take survival behaviors and turn them into content for people who want to feel morally superior about their spending habits. And look, if using up every last drop of your products makes you feel good, fine. But let's not pretend it's revolutionary. Let's not pretend it's some newfound wisdom.

People have been making things last because they had to since the invention of things.

What This Trend Gets Right (And It's Not Nothing)

Okay. Deep breath. Because I do think there's actual value buried in the performance here.

The underlying message of underconsumption core—use what you have before buying new—is objectively correct. Most of us have more than we use. Most of us buy replacements while the original is still functional. Most of us are seduced by novelty when practicality would serve us better.

If this trend gets even 10% of its viewers to actually finish their products before buying new ones, that's a net positive for wallets and landfills alike.

The problem is the packaging. The problem is that it's being sold as an aesthetic identity rather than a practical habit. The problem is the $200 "starter kits" for consuming less. The problem is that the people profiting from this trend are, inevitably, still selling you something.

How to Actually Do This (Without the Performance)

If you want to genuinely consume less—and there are excellent financial and environmental reasons to do so—here's how to approach it without buying into the aesthetic industrial complex:

1. The "Use the Dregs" Rule

Before you buy a replacement for anything, use what you have completely. Cut open the tube. Dilute the last drops of dish soap. Wear the jeans with the small hole (or actually patch them—needle and thread is $3 at any drugstore). This isn't a lifestyle, it's just good stewardship of your money.

2. The One-In-One-Out Hard Line

Want new sneakers? Fine. But the old pair gets donated or recycled before the new pair comes in the door. No exceptions. This prevents the slow creep of accumulation that turns apartments into storage units.

3. The 30-Day Wait

Non-essential purchase you want? Write it down. Wait 30 days. If you still want it and can articulate exactly how it fits into your life, buy it. If you've forgotten about it, you just saved yourself whatever it cost. I've been doing this for five years. My "forgotten" list is embarrassingly long.

4. Ignore the "Investment Piece" Marketing

Underconsumption core has spawned a weird offshoot where people justify $400 "investment" sweaters because "I'll wear it forever." The math only works if you actually wear it forever. A $40 sweater you wear 100 times has the same cost-per-wear as a $400 sweater you wear 1,000 times. Most people don't wear anything 1,000 times. Be honest about your actual habits.

The Regret Log Check-In

Since we're talking about using things completely, I want to update something from my own Graveyard of Regret. Six months ago I wrote about a $65 "sustainable" glass food storage set that was supposed to "replace disposable containers forever." I was seduced by the underconsumption narrative before it had a hashtag.

Update: Two of the lids have cracked (glass lids, dropped once), and the rubber seals have developed a smell I can't remove. I'm back to using the cheap plastic containers I never threw out. The "forever" purchase lasted six months.

The lesson: sustainability marketing is still marketing. Glass breaks. "Forever" is a fantasy. Use what you have, but don't go into debt for the aesthetic of having less.

The Bottom Line

Underconsumption core isn't wrong about the destination. Most of us should buy less, use more, and stop treating shopping as entertainment. Where it goes off the rails is in treating these practical behaviors as an identity to curate, an aesthetic to perfect, and—inevitably—a market to monetize.

You don't need a $120 "forever bottle" to reduce waste. You need to finish the soap you already have in the plastic bottle from Target.

You don't need a capsule wardrobe of "investment pieces" to dress simply. You need to wear the clothes already in your closet until they genuinely need replacement.

You don't need to film it. You don't need to hashtag it. You just need to do it.

Keep or Toss: Keep the actual behavior (using what you have). Toss the aesthetic performance and anyone trying to sell you products to help you consume less. The only thing you need to buy into underconsumption is... nothing. That's literally the point. (lol)

---

Got a trend you want me to reality-check? Drop it in the comments. I read the 1-star reviews so you don't have to.