‘I lived plastic

Nov 06, 2023

From home-made sunscreen and cabbage clingfilm to DIY deodorant and ivy-in-a-sock laundry detergent, in the spirit of Plastic-free July, Fleur Britten tried all the eco-hacks. So does the satisfaction outweigh the sacrifice?

It all started when I saw an Instagram post about reusable loo roll (I know!). I saved it in a new folder, labelling it “crazy eco hacks”. Then I spotted eco-influencers cooking their own sunscreen, going “bin commando” (ie no bin liners), and using cabbage leaves for clingfilm and coconut oil for lube. With Plastic-free July upon us, I decided to try some of these zero-waste, plastic-free tips for a week. Maybe — just maybe — I’d never buy loo roll again.

My first experiment was sunscreen, as it’s been bugging me for a while. I used to apply factor 50 obediently each morning until I learnt about its marine-damaging ingredients. Plus sunscreen is full of intentionally added microplastics, and because the bottles are hard to clean, it’s hard to recycle. I eventually found a DIY recipe on the American website Healthline, which, unlike those on eco blogs, had been medically reviewed, and referenced scientific papers (no-one should be chancing it in the sun).

The irony of my new sunscreen, as my 11-year-old daughter pointed out, was that it wouldn’t exactly be zero-waste or plastic-free, thanks to the shopping required: zinc oxide (apparently about SPF16 with this recipe), coconut oil, aloe vera gel (to prevent burning) and walnut extract oil (for extra SPF). I had to order the walnut oil online, so, in the meantime, I moved on to my next plastic bugbear: bin liners.

In landfill, plastic degrades into a gazillion toxic microparticles, while “compostable” plastic won’t compost without the right conditions. I’d read about people going “naked”, lining their bins with old newspapers, so I emailed my council, who said that ditching the bag was not OK (phew). They suggested repurposing other plastic, for example, bread bags, which worked well, until the bagless vacuum cleaner needed emptying. Verdict: both won.

My neighbour told me how she washes her clothes with ivy — in a knotted sock. “It contains saponin, a natural soaping agent,” she explained. “You just put the sock in the drum and the clothes come out clean.” I could forage my own laundry detergent! Although I couldn’t see any suds in the machine when I tried it, the laundry seemed pretty clean — or just well rinsed? The blog Permacrafters suggested boiling the ivy (60 leaves, to be precise) in water for 20 minutes to release the saponin. I got cooking, then left it to infuse overnight, and then boiled up some soapnuts I’d bought.

My deodorant was cooking away, and not in a good way. I was still sweating and I was starting to smell

Soapnuts are a saponin-rich fruit that grows in India and Nepal — locals have been using them for centuries. I’d seen influencers make washing-up liquid with them, sometimes also shampoo, handwash and laundry detergent; you can even buy soapnuts on Ocado. I fell down a rabbit hole of detergent experimentation: ivy in a sock; boiled-up soapnut/ivy solutions as liquid detergents; and soapnuts in a little drawstring bag in the washing machine or dishwasher. None lathered up (there’s no added foaming agent), though none did a bad job either (though our clothes lacked that freshly-laundered scent). The boiled-up solutions were labour-intensive: my watery ivy “tea” was only enough for three washes, but I’d use the ivy sock for laundry again, and the soapnut solution for dishes.

Having now received my sunscreen ingredients, I got cooking. Once cooled, I optimistically smeared it over my cheek — then frantically scrubbed it off. I looked like I’d moisturised with white paint (that’s the zinc oxide). But I was undeterred — a squirt of instant tan did the trick. Healthline advises caution, though: “It takes entire teams of chemists years to perfect sunscreen products that the FDA finds acceptable. The chances of you perfecting [one]… are slim.” One should definitely play safe here. I’d only use this on days where I’d normally not bother.

Coconut oil is a staple of the zero-waster’s cabinet, and not only as a lube (the Going Zero Waste blogger Kathryn Kellogg says that both coconut oil and aloe vera gel work well here: I’ll spare you the personal experimentation). It was also the base for my DIY deodorant. I thought I’d follow Healthline’s deo recipe too: arrowroot powder (absorbent like cornflour), bicarbonate of soda, coconut oil, plus essential oil for fragrance; no cooking required. I added some cardamom essential oil, which, with the coconut, left me smelling like an Indian dessert.

Next up: yoghurt. My family loves yoghurt, though I forbid us buying any that are packaged in unrecyclable “number 6” plastic. Would this appease them? All I needed was milk, a yoghurt “starter” culture (or a dollop of live yoghurt), a sugar thermometer and a thermos flask. I heated the milk up to 85 degrees, and once cooled to 46 degrees, I stirred in the starter and poured it into a Thermos to incubate overnight — just in time for a yoghurty breakfast. The next morning, my kids ran to the kitchen to find — yes! — properly set yoghurt. Their joy soon curdled when I decanted it into glass jars. “It looks like baby sick,” said my eight-year-old son. Without the ultra-processed ingredients, it lacked that smooth “mouthfeel”. After straining it through a muslin (which felt terribly homesteady) and adding honey, it was actually quite tasty. Faff verdict: high.

I had more instant success with the cabbage, touted by eco-influencers as a zero-waste food wrap. My fridge soon looked like it had been cannibalised by cabbages: everything from half-eaten vegetables to bowls of leftovers had been engulfed by leaves secured with rubber bands. Meanwhile, my deodorant was cooking away under my armpits, and not in a good way. I was still sweating — as is the case with natural deodorant — and I was starting to smell.

Back to basics: a week going plastic-free left Fleur Britten “feeling like the homemaker, Ma Ingalls, in Little House on the Prairie”

I also started ditching the shampoo. Apparently our hair only gets greasy because shampooing strips it of its natural oils, thus creating a vicious cycle. Retraining our hair follicles to produce less oil takes two to six weeks apparently. Instead, you’re supposed to wash it with warm water, with an optional fortnightly rinse in apple cider vinegar. During my five-day no-poo experiment, my follicles, most definitely trapped in that vicious cycle, created the most maddening itch and lanky hair — I bottled it. I decided to save my escape from the tyranny of hair-washing for a future lockdown.

And then, yes, what about the loo roll? I watched a few apologetic videos where mums — always mums — had sweetly made personalised fabric sheets for each family member. You can even buy readymade sheets, or “family cloths”, on Etsy. But what about the stinky basket in the bathroom, the carbon footprint of the washing, the dodgy hygiene, the ick for house guests — the ick for all? I decided our Sainsbury’s paper-packaged, recycled loo roll is eco enough.

After a week of crazy plastic-free hacks, I was starting to feel like the full-time homemaker, Ma Ingalls, in Little House on the Prairie. Much as I am loath to admit it, plastic convenience has massively contributed to gender equality. There was a time when these “crazy” hacks were conventional. Perhaps a time will come when we think that single-use plastic is crazy. Over the week, I’d made some useful discoveries, not least that when they work, the satisfaction outweighs the sacrifice.

1. Cabbage ‘clingfilm’

It’s flexible, long-lasting and compostable.

2. Homemade yoghurt

Fun to make and (eventually) tasty

3. Bread-bag bin liners

Gives a second life to single-use plastic

4. Soap nuts washing-up liquid

Surprisingly effective unless tackling the aftermath of a roast

5. The ivy laundry sock

A completely foragable, zero-waste washing detergent

Sign up for exclusive newsletters, comment on stories, enter competitions and attend events.

By clicking Sign up you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use, Cookie policy and Privacy notice.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.