Why I Quit Fast Fashion and Fast Food: Discover the Surprising Changes That Followed

I was rushing through Madrid’s Atocha station, a crumbling croissant in one hand and a flimsy shopping bag in the other when both decided to betray me. The pastry fell apart, scattering crumbs, while the bag’s handle snapped, dropping a new shirt onto the floor.

There I was, kneeling and blushing, realizing I was trying to satisfy two different appetites: my hunger for food and my craving for novelty. Fast food and fast fashion—both provided quick thrills but left me unsatisfied.

On the train to Cordoba, I looked at the oil stain on my coat and the mess at my feet. I realized I’d been making the same mistake in both areas: chasing quick fixes without thinking about the long-term consequences. I vowed to change this.

Noticing the Patterns
Once you start looking, you can’t help but see the connections. Fast food is designed for instant gratification—think sugar, salt, and crunch—followed by sluggishness that pushes you to seek more. Fast fashion works in a similar way, with rapid trends and “new arrivals” that make perfectly good clothes feel outdated. Both rely on speed and volume, urging you to keep coming back.

This led me to a closet full of clothes but thin on substance, and meals that left me feeling unwell. So, I thought, what if I took a step back? What if I built a closet like a well-stocked pantry and prepared meals like outfits meant to last?

The Shift in Habits
I didn’t announce a grand plan to my closet or my stomach. Instead, I decided on some simple rules: no fast-fashion brands, no impulse buys, and none of those late-night fast-food runs. I allowed myself some flexibility with secondhand shops and local markets where I could connect with the creators behind the food or clothing.

I also told my friends about my decision. This way, I’d have to answer for any slip-ups. To kick it off, I made a small event out of my last fast-food meal and my final impulse clothing buy. I set a timer for 90 days. I thought it might be boring, but I was determined to see what happened.

The Surprising Changes
Almost immediately, I noticed a difference in how my clothes felt. Fabrics became more than just visual distractions—they were comforting and practical. I found a local tailor in Lisbon and a cobbler in Porto. I learned to appreciate the quality and the stories behind each piece.

Once I started focusing on quality over quantity, getting dressed became enjoyable. It was like cooking from a well-stocked pantry—I knew what I had and how it all fit together. When people complimented my outfits, it wasn’t about flashy logos; it was about how well the pieces reflected who I was.

Food Choices and Energy Levels
I expected quitting fast food to be a hassle, but it turned out refreshing. On travel days, I’d pack healthy snacks and explore local markets for fresh produce. Cooking became simple, with flavorful ingredients that felt satisfying.

Surprisingly, my energy levels stabilized. Instead of sugar crashes, I felt more focused and awake. The quick fixes had been draining my time and energy. Slowing down ultimately created a smoother daily rhythm.

Unexpected Insights
During those three months, I kept a record. I bought just six clothing items—all secondhand or from small makers—and wore each piece over 15 times. My spending shifted from buying lots of things I didn’t wear to investing in fewer, meaningful pieces.

Food waste also decreased significantly. I stopped letting perishables go bad and minimized impulse purchases. Planning meals improved my productivity, giving me more space for creativity and connection.

Simple Joys Over Newness
I feared that giving up speed would make me uptight, but it actually enhanced my life. I found joy in simplicity. Instead of searching for the latest trends, I appreciated a well-chosen outfit and beloved accessories.

My meals became less about novelty and more about care. I focused on recipes that were simple yet nourishing. This shift made me respect my body—not as a trend, but as an essential part of my life journey.

Adapting to Life’s Curveballs
Of course, there were challenges. Travel mishaps could have forced me back into old habits, but I learned to be prepared. I carried essential items with me and established a “grace rule” for emergencies, which meant that in true needs, I could make pragmatic choices without guilt.

The Unforeseen Ripple Effects
Stepping away from speed transformed more than just my eating and dressing habits; it shifted my entire pace of life. I read more books during my downtime and walked rather than used rideshare services. Conversations grew richer, particularly in local shops where people had true passion for their craft.

Compliments changed too. Instead of inquiries about where I purchased my clothes, they shifted to recognition of my personal style. The process didn’t make me austere; it allowed me to curate my choices and fully embrace a distinct identity.

Taking this journey wasn’t about deprivation; it was about tuning out distractions to finally hear and appreciate my life’s true flavors. And that, in every sense, is what makes life truly delicious.

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