Three Evenings About Owning Less: A Minimalism workshop at Demokrati Garage

On a dark January evening, I joined about thirty other people in the warm main room at Folkestuen in Demokrati Garage. Outside, winter did its usual thing. Inside, there were sandwiches, good coffee and tea, small decorations on the tables — and a room full of people who had signed up for three workshops about minimalism and købestop (literally: stopping buying).

The initiative is organized by Københavns Kommune and led by Jane Piper. It’s a three-part series: first minimalism and buying less, then food waste, and finally clothing waste. I signed up because this topic has followed me for years.

A few years ago, I went through a fairly intense zero-waste phase — compost in the freezer, bike rides to the recycling station before Copenhagen even had proper bio waste collection. It got a little extreme at one point, and I relaxed. But the interest never left. I consider myself minimalist in some ways. I try to only buy what I need. I don’t like giving gifts that don’t make sense, and I don’t like receiving things I won’t use. I keep my bathroom routine simple. I hate knickknacks. At the same time, I own too many clothes. So I was curious: maybe there was something I hadn’t thought of — something small and practical that could shift things again.

We were seated by neighborhood, which meant I sat with people from Nordvest. Before the official start at 17:30 (food was served from 17:00), I asked a few of them why they had signed up. Some wanted ideas for living “better.” Some wanted to educate themselves. Some simply thought it sounded interesting. Some were looking for time — less stuff, less maintenance, fewer decisions. Money also came up. Saving money wasn’t the official headline, but it was clearly part of the motivation for many.

The conversation felt realistic. People talked about shared spaces in their buildings that could be used for swap shelves. About rethinking habits. About what’s actually necessary. It didn’t feel utopian. It felt more like: if I had the time and structure, I would try this. The room itself reflected that tone. Mixed ages, more women than men, a few couples, no obvious families. The municipal organizers felt human, not bureaucratic. If anything, it felt like people inside the system trying to gently shift the culture from within.

The first workshop focused on minimalism and buying less. It was in Danish, which meant I followed the main lines rather than every nuance. In some ways, that made me more observant. If I’m honest, I didn’t learn something radically new. It wasn’t revolutionary. But it did something else: it brought ideas I already care about back to the front of my mind. And that matters. I’m slightly ashamed to admit that I haven’t actively thought about minimalism much since that evening. Life fills up quickly. But maybe that’s also the point. Sometimes we don’t need new information. We need reminders.

No one in the room explicitly questioned whether minimalism is a privilege — but it lingered in the background. The people who can attend a workshop at 17:00 on a weekday likely have a certain flexibility. They’re not working two jobs. They have the mental bandwidth to reflect on consumption. At the same time, overconsumption is also tied to having money in the first place. And for some, buying less is not just ideological — it’s financial. If anything, the fact that the city organizes something like this suggests that Copenhagen is serious about reducing its environmental footprint — not just through infrastructure, but through behavior. Idealistic? Maybe. But also practical.

The next session will focus on food waste. I used to work at Too Good To Go, so that topic is deeply ingrained in me. Food waste isn’t really a problem in our home — spending on food might be — but I’m curious what comes up collectively. The third workshop will focus on clothing waste, and that one might hit closer to home. I know I have more clothes than I need. The problem isn’t just getting rid of them. It’s doing it responsibly. Selling on Vinted takes time. Recycling doesn’t guarantee use. And I don’t love the idea of perfectly wearable items sitting in some anonymous textile system. Maybe the real challenge isn’t owning less — but making thoughtful and practical transitions.

For now, I’m simply glad that on a cold January evening, a group of neighbors chose to sit together and talk about how to live with less. Not because it’s trendy. Not because it’s aesthetic. But because it might free up time, money, and mental space.

Two more evenings to go.