If you’ve been seeing the words “slow living” pop up everywhere lately (on Pinterest boards, in Instagram captions, all over TikTok) you might be wondering what it actually means. Is it just an aesthetic? A wellness trend? Is it something you can actually do, or is it only accessible to people who have a cottage in the countryside and unlimited free time?
I’ve been living slowly (or at least trying to!) for a good few years now, and I’m here to tell you that slow living is none of those things. It’s not an aesthetic …though it does lend itself to some very nice linen. It’s not a trend. And it’s absolutely something you can do, whether you’re in the middle of nowhere in rural Ireland, or in a city centre.
Here’s everything you need to know to get started.
so, what actually is slow living?
At its core, slow living is a lifestyle that encourages a slower, more intentional approach to everyday life. It’s about completing tasks at a leisurely pace — not because you’re lazy, but because you’re present. It’s about choosing depth over speed, quality over quantity, and enough over more.
The slow living movement isn’t new, either. Its origins are rooted in the Italian slow food movement of the 1980s and 1990s, which emerged as a direct response to the rise of fast food culture. The idea was simple: traditional food production techniques, local ingredients, and meals eaten together at a table were worth protecting. The philosophy that slower is better, that the process matters as much as the outcome, eventually grew far beyond food and became a whole way of living.
Today, slow living encompasses a wide range of sub-categories: slow money, slow cities, slow travel, and slow fashion. All of them share the same underlying philosophy: that the relentless pace of modern capitalist life isn’t good for us, our communities, or the planet. And that there’s another way.
the SLOW acronym
If you want a handy framework to understand the aims of slow living, there’s actually an acronym for it — and yes, it spells SLOW.
S — Sustainable. Making choices that are kinder to the planet and built to last, rather than disposable and convenient.
L — Local. Prioritising products, food, and businesses that are produced or based in your own community. In Ireland, this might mean picking up veg at your local farmers’ market or choosing an Irish-made candle over a fast-shipping Amazon one.
O — Organic. Choosing food and products that haven’t been genetically engineered or mass-produced. Not always possible, not always affordable — but worth considering where you can.
W — Whole. Opting for things in their natural, unprocessed state. Whole foods, whole ingredients, whole experiences.
None of this has to be all-or-nothing. Slow living is not a purity test. Even one small shift in any of these areas is a step in the right direction.
how slow living applies to everyday life in ireland
This is where it gets practical. Slow living isn’t a single action — it’s a philosophy that quietly shapes every area of your life. Here’s how I think about it across the different parts of my day.
slow food & home cooking
This one is close to my heart, having spent years working as a chef. Slow food is about getting back to cooking from scratch, using seasonal, local ingredients, and taking the time to actually enjoy the process of making something. It doesn’t have to be complicated. A simple soup made from whatever’s in the fridge, a sourdough loaf that proves overnight, a batch of jam from summer berries. The point is the presence, not the complexity.
In Ireland, we are genuinely spoiled when it comes to seasonal produce. Our climate might be famously damp, but it grows incredible things. Leaning into what’s in season (nettles in spring, courgettes in late summer, root veg all winter long) is one of the most grounding things you can do.
slow fashion
Fast fashion is one of the most visible examples of the kind of consumption that slow living pushes back against. Clothes have never been cheaper or more disposable, and the environmental and human cost of that is enormous. Slow fashion means buying less, buying better, and making things last.
That doesn’t mean you need to drop €200 on a linen dress (though I won’t stop you). It might just mean shopping second-hand first, taking care of the clothes you already own, or learning to repair instead of replace. Waterford is actually brilliant for vintage shops, but wherever you are in Ireland, charity shops and Vinted are your friends.
slow mornings
Honestly, this might be the easiest place to start. A slow morning doesn’t require a complete life overhaul. It just means resisting the urge to reach for your phone the second you wake up. Making your coffee properly instead of gulping it and standing over the sink with your toast. It’s about giving yourself a few quiet minutes before the day kicks in.
For me, a slow morning looks like opening the back door and listening to the birds, putting the kettle on, and sitting with a book for twenty minutes before the rest of the household stirs. Some mornings it doesn’t happen. But when it does, it sets the tone for everything else.
slow consumption
This one is broad, but it essentially means buying less stuff. Before any purchase, big or small, slow living asks you to pause. Do I need this? Will I use it? Where was it made, and by whom? Could I borrow it, make it, or find it second-hand?
It’s not about deprivation. It’s about being intentional. And honestly, once you get into the habit of pausing before you buy, you start to notice how much you were buying on autopilot before.
slow travel
Slow travel means choosing depth over breadth. Instead of rushing through a list of tourist attractions, it means staying longer in one place, getting to know it properly, eating locally, and travelling at a pace that lets you actually absorb where you are.
In Ireland, this might mean a weekend on the Copper Coast instead of a package holiday — a long walk, a meal at a local restaurant, a swim in the sea. I am incredibly lucky to live somewhere this beautiful, and slow travel is really just an invitation to notice that.
but isn’t slow living a privilege?
This is a question worth asking honestly, and I don’t want to gloss over it. Some aspects of slow living, like buying organic, shopping at farmers’ markets, and choosing sustainable brands, do cost more money. And I know what it’s like to be on a tight budget. I put myself through college while living alone. I get it.
But a lot of slow living costs nothing at all. Going for a walk. Cooking from scratch. Putting your phone down. Reading a book. Sitting in the garden. These things don’t require a particular income. Slow living, at its core, is about attention. And attention is free.
The goal isn’t perfection. It’s just a gentle, ongoing shift towards living with a little more intention and a little less speed.
where to start if you’re new to slow living in ireland
If you’re feeling inspired but not sure where to begin, here are a few simple starting points:
- Cook one meal from scratch this week. Use seasonal, Irish produce if you can. Keep it simple.
- Try a slow morning. Just one. No phone for the first thirty minutes. See how it feels.
- Before your next non-essential purchase, pause. Ask yourself if you actually need it.
- Go somewhere slow. A walk, a beach, a farmers’ market. Somewhere without a to-do list.
- Read something. Slowly. Without multitasking.
That’s it. That’s the whole thing. There’s no certification, no checklist, no right way to do it. Slow living is just the ongoing practice of choosing presence over pace. You can start right now, wherever you are.
Want more slow living content? Browse the slow living archive or subscribe to Coffee & Croissants, my slow Sunday newsletter on simple living, good food, and the things worth taking time over.