Starbucks Bearista Cups and Trader Joe’s Totes: How Sustainability Became Un-Sustainable

Image Credit: 4028mdk09 via Wikimedia Commons

In recent years, the internet has been consumed by overconsumption: think worldwide matcha shortages, fourteen-step Korean skincare routines, and the unsettling rise of Labubus. Somewhere along the way, sustainability joined the trend cycle, too. Reducing consumption used to mean buying less – now, it just means buying environmental credibility. 

Sustainability used to be about restraint: buying fewer, buying better, and buying items that last. But at some point, this notion of quality over quantity gave way; sustainability was rebranded as a shopping category of its own. Suddenly, timelines turned rainbow with colour-coordinated Owala bottles and extensive Stanley tumbler collections, while bear-shaped coffee cups and grocery store tote bags became the latest must-haves. What was once an ethical mindset has warped into a lifestyle aesthetic. 

So where do we draw the line? 

Eco-friendly items are now marketed as lifestyle upgrades rather than alternatives, with older products left to gather dust in cupboards or end up in landfill. What started off as ‘reduce, reuse, recycle’ was quickly diluted into ‘buy, collect, repeat’. Despite increased sustainability rhetoric, increasingly large amounts of material continue to end up in landfill, with global plastic waste reaching an estimated 225 million tonnes in 2025.  

Realistically, there’s only so much ‘sustainable consumption’ we can indulge in before it becomes unsustainable. You can’t really claim to be saving the environment whilst clutching a dozen tote bags – even if most of them were handed to you at careers fairs by overenthusiastic brand ambassadors. Sure, you might feel you’re getting more bang for your buck clicking ‘add to trolley’ online for a supposedly durable tote bag with ‘Trader Joe’s’ emblazoned on the front. But when you factor in transport emissions, inflated resale prices, and the fact that you’re likely buying it to feed into the hype, the sustainability claim starts to unravel. Especially when you could just pop down to your local Lidl, scan your Lidl Plus coupon, and collect your free tote bag if you want to rep grocery store brands that much. And theirs is even 100% cotton. 

Of course, there’s always second-hand shopping. But even that’s not truly immune. I’m talking £1-entry car-boots and discounted kilo sales which encourage bulk buying under the guise of thrift, only for 90% of the haul – transported home in yet more branded tote bags – to reappear on Vinted the next day. And paying £125.50 for a second-hand Starbucks Bearista cup on eBay (no, I’m not kidding) just seems a little… much.  

Items can be marketed as sustainable but still consumed in deeply unsustainable ways. Green consumerism offers buyers moral comfort: it can feel better to replace a £1.99 plastic bottle with a Stanley Quencher H2.0 Flowstate™ Tumbler, rather than to simply keep reusing what you already own. Once sustainability becomes a trend, its impact is diluted – as with all trends, the hype will eventually fade. But when it does, what happens to all the stuff? 

With the rise of slow consumerism and ‘what I’m not buying in 2026’ videos flooding TikTok, Instagram and YouTube, it’s tempting to believe that attitudes are shifting. Still, we all know how easy it is to slip back into the arms of targeted marketing and consumer culture. Either sustainability becomes a behaviour, rooted in longevity rather than aesthetics, or eco-items risk becoming the new fast fashion. Personally, I know which I’d rather contribute to this year. My Lidl tote is still going strong.