Sustainability Starts in Your Closet—and Your Child's Stationery Cupboard

 

There was a time—especially for many of us who grew up in the 90s—when a pen, pencil, or eraser was replaced only after it had been completely used. Notebooks were filled to the last page. Schoolbags carried what was essential, not what was fashionable. Clothes were passed down from siblings or cousins. Books changed many hands before resting on a shelf.

Fast-forward to today.

We live in a culture of overflowing cupboards—especially when it comes to stationery. Fancy stationery articles in every shade imaginable starting from gel pens to markers and paints, gift wrappers to planners and journals with glittering covers—an avalanche of unfinished desires enough to stock a small store.

Supplies to last not one childhood, but two generations.

So, it's time to pause and ask: What are we really purchasing?

Is it creativity—or excess?
Is it preparedness—or abundance we don’t truly require?

Imagine if every household laid out all the stationery it owned. The sheer volume would be staggering. And much of it? Barely used.

Alongside this come birthday gifts— generous, joyful—yet often adding to already full collections: more pencils, more planners, more toys, more colors before the previous ones are finished. Children are suddenly surrounded by choices… so many that they experience something unexpected: decision fatigue. Too much becomes overwhelming. Instead of treasuring one notebook, they skim through ten.

The same pattern repeats with clothes.

Home wear. Party wear. Occasion wear. Seasonal sales—online and offline—pulling us into endless accumulation. We buy because it is discounted, because it is trending, because it is just a click away. We are, after all, human—vulnerable to instant gratification.

Then comes food.

Looking for a “good experience,” we drive through heavy traffic to restaurants, not always out of need but sometimes out of fear of missing out… or the desire to showcase a certain lifestyle. Celebrations become displays. Meals become moments for projection.

And we must ask again: Is this sustainability?

Our generation often survived on hand-me-downs—books, clothes, footwear, toys. Objects carried stories. Scarcity taught care. Limited resources encouraged gratitude and creativity.

Today, abundance is normal.

But what are we teaching our children?

That things are disposable?
That newer is always better?
That cupboards must be full to feel secure?
That joy lies in accumulation?

Sustainability is not merely about eco-friendly products or paper straws. It is about mindfulness—of consumption, of impact, of habits passed down quietly every day.

Perhaps the shift begins at home.

By pausing before buying.
By finishing what we own.
By gifting thoughtfully instead of excessively.
By repairing, sharing, donating.
By talking openly with children about needs versus wants.
By celebrating experiences more than objects.

Most importantly, by modelling restraint in a world that constantly encourages more.

I confess—I am confused too.

Confused by the pace of consumption.
By how easy it is to slip into buying without thinking.
By how difficult it feels to swim against the tide of convenience and comparison.

Yet maybe this confusion is where awareness begins.

And awareness is the first step toward change.