I have a drawer full of things I don’t use. Most of them were 40% off.

There’s a ceramic dish I bought because it was “such a good deal” at a holiday market. A sweater in a shade of green I never wear but couldn’t pass up at that price. Three notebooks with fancy covers, still blank, because apparently I collect notebooks like some people collect stamps.

Every single one of these things made sense at the moment of purchase. Every single one of them was a mistake.

The math that finally clicked

Last year, I added up roughly how much I’d spent on sale items over the previous twelve months. Not big purchases—just the little ones. The “might as well” buys. The “this never goes on sale” impulse grabs.

It came to something like €400. Maybe more.

Here’s the thing: I didn’t need any of it. Not the kitchen gadgets. Not the extra shoes. Not the skincare products I tried once and forgot about. The 40% discount didn’t save me anything. It just made me spend €400 I otherwise wouldn’t have spent at all.

How sales actually work

I’m not going to pretend I figured this out on my own. I read something once about how retailers use “anchoring”—they show you the original price so the sale price feels like a win. Your brain thinks you’re saving money. But unless you were already going to buy that thing at full price, you’re not saving. You’re just spending less than someone imagined you might.

It sounds obvious when you say it out loud. But standing in front of a 50% off sign, it doesn’t feel obvious at all.

What changed for me

I made one small rule: if I wouldn’t buy it at full price, I don’t buy it on sale.

That’s it. No complicated budgeting. No spending tracker apps. Just that one question.

It eliminated about 80% of my impulse purchases immediately.

The remaining 20%? Those are things I actually want. A specific jacket I’d been eyeing for months that happened to go on sale? Yes. A random jacket I’d never noticed before until I saw the markdown sticker? No.

The difference sounds subtle, but the results aren’t.

The part that surprised me

I expected to feel deprived. Like I was missing out on good deals while everyone else was winning.

Instead, I felt lighter.

There’s a low-grade anxiety that comes with sale shopping—the pressure to decide quickly, the fear of missing out, the mental calculus of “is this worth it at this price?” When I stopped playing that game, I stopped feeling that pressure.

Now when I walk past a sale rack, I barely notice. It’s not willpower. It’s just that the spell is broken.

A few things I still buy on sale

I’m not a monk about this. Some things make sense:

Groceries. If something I already use goes on sale, great. I’ll stock up. But I don’t buy new things just because they’re discounted.

Seasonal items at the end of the season. I bought a winter coat in February once. Full year of use before the next winter. That made sense.

Things I’ve wanted for over a month. If I’ve been planning a purchase and a sale appears, perfect. The sale didn’t create the desire—it just timed out well.

But the impulse grabs? The “treat yourself” rationalizations? The “well, I might need this someday” justifications? Gone.

The drawer is emptying

Slowly, I’ve been donating or giving away the things I bought but never used. The green sweater went to a friend who actually wears green. The ceramic dish found a home at a charity shop. The notebooks… okay, I’m still figuring out the notebooks.

There’s a satisfaction in watching that drawer get lighter. Proof that I used to buy things I didn’t want. Proof that I don’t anymore.

If you’ve ever looked at something in your closet and thought “why did I buy this?”—you probably know exactly what I mean.