Category: Low-Tox Living

You know that smell when you buy something new for the house? That plasticky, chemical cloud that makes your whole living room smell like a tire store. Yeah, I wanted none of that when we bought our new couch. I spend enough time face-planted on it after a long shift at the restaurant—I don’t need to be inhaling mystery fumes while I binge reality TV.

Finding a couch that wasn’t full of sketchy foams and sprays was… let’s just say Max had opinions. He kept mumbling about “budgets” while I was over here Googling things like “flame retardant free” and “natural latex cushions.” At one point, I dragged him into a store that literally smelled like fresh plywood, and the look he gave me was pure regret.

I’ll be honest, some of the “eco” options were priced like I was trying to furnish the Ritz-Carlton. I almost cried when I sat on one gorgeous linen couch and then saw the price tag—it was more than my first car. So, I had to compromise. No, we don’t have the fanciest brand. But we do have a couch made with materials that don’t make me gag, and that feels like a win.

The trick was focusing on the stuff that actually matters: solid wood frames instead of particleboard, natural fabrics that don’t shed microplastic dust, and cushions that don’t puff up like a chemical balloon when you sit down. I found one that ticked those boxes without completely wrecking my credit card, and the best part is the only smell was… fabric. You know, like a normal couch should smell.

Now, every time someone comes over and flops down, they usually say something like, “Wow, it doesn’t smell new in here.” Which sounds like an insult, but to me? That’s the highest compliment. My living room smells like home, not like I just unboxed an inflatable pool.

And honestly, nothing makes me happier than crashing on it with a plate of roasted veggies, a glass of wine, and Max pretending he doesn’t love my Bravo shows. Who needs that “new couch smell” when you can have a safe one that actually smells like… nothing? Sometimes nothing is exactly perfect.

Let’s talk mascara. The non-toxic kind, because if I’m going to flutter my lashes, I don’t want them coated in mystery chemicals that sound like they belong in a car engine. The problem? A lot of the “clean” mascaras make big promises and then crumble down your face like sad little mascara dandruff by lunchtime.

I had to put them through the real test—the ugly cry. Yes, the kind where your face gets blotchy, your nose does that weird drip thing, and you question all your life choices. For me, it happened in the Target parking lot. I realized halfway through checkout that I forgot oat milk, again. Max pretended he didn’t know me while I spiraled into tears over my cart full of kale and paper towels. That’s when I realized: this mascara isn’t just about beauty—it’s survival gear.

Here are the survivors:

ILIA Limitless Lash Mascara – Lightweight, doesn’t clump, and somehow makes me look awake even if I stayed up too late watching baking shows. Survived one full meltdown and still looked decent in the rearview mirror.

Lily Lolo Natural Mascara – More subtle, but bless her heart, she held up. Perfect for days when you want lashes but don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard. Passed the “tears + Miami humidity” combo test.

Inika Long Lash Vegan Mascara – Hello, length! My lashes looked like they took a yoga retreat. It didn’t smear down my cheeks, even during my Target cry-fest. Bonus: it’s actually comfortable to wear all day.

W3LL People Expressionist Mascara – Old faithful. Gives volume without the tarantula lash effect. Stayed put through a sweaty workout and an emotional rewatch of Grey’s Anatomy.

Not everything made the cut. One brand (which I’ll be polite enough not to name) left me looking like a raccoon that had been caught in a rainstorm. Max actually said, “You have something on your face,” which was his way of saying, “You look like a Halloween costume.”

So, yes, there are mascaras out there that can handle real life—the stress, the tears, the forgotten oat milk. Because if a mascara can make it through my ugly cry and still keep me looking halfway human, that’s true love right there.

At one point, my under-the-sink cabinet looked like a cleaning aisle exploded. There were bottles for glass, bottles for counters, bottles for bathrooms, bottles that promised to make my stainless steel shine like the top of the Chrysler Building. I had so many sprays that Max started calling it “the chemical graveyard.” And honestly? He wasn’t wrong.

The irony? I only used two of them regularly. The rest sat there, gathering dust and leaking mysterious blue liquid that stained the shelf liner. Every time I opened that cabinet, it was like being guilt-tripped by a cluttered rainbow of half-empty bottles.

So, I cut the drama. I found one all-purpose non-toxic cleaner that actually works on almost everything (yes, even the bathroom sink after Max “forgets” to rinse his toothpaste spit). Then I keep one other spray specifically for glass and mirrors because streaky fingerprints on windows drive me absolutely bananas. That’s it. Two sprays. Done.

And you know what? The house is still clean. My countertops aren’t sticky, my bathroom doesn’t smell like a swamp, and I can actually find the sponge without knocking over twelve bottles like some kind of sad game of Jenga.

Max, for the record, doesn’t trust me with bleach anymore. Long story short: I may have ruined a favorite pair of his jeans during a “deep clean” phase. Let’s just say bleach and multitasking don’t mix. Honestly, it was the perfect excuse to banish bleach forever—I didn’t want that stuff in the house anyway.

Now, cleaning is so much simpler. No cabinet full of chemical chaos, no fake “lavender meadow” scents that make me sneeze, just a couple of sprays that don’t make me feel like I’m fumigating the house. The best part? I can actually open the cabinet without holding my breath.

And maybe, just maybe, Max has stopped side-eyeing me every time I wipe down the counters. Well… almost. See Latest.