Spoiler: I still buy Greggs. Just… less often.
What Is a No-Spend Day, Really?
For me, a no-spend day is exactly what it sounds like: a day where I don’t spend any money. Not on food, not on drinks, not on a quick snack from Pret. The only exception? Bills that go out automatically — like electricity or council tax. If it leaves my account via direct debit, I let it slide.
Everything else is a no.
To help myself stick to it, I started using what I call a velvet rope system (sounds fancy, but it’s not). I put all of my guilt-free spending money — about £600/month — into a separate instant-access savings account. If I wanted to buy something, I had to manually move the money over before I could spend it.
That little bit of friction? Surprisingly powerful.
It made me pause just long enough to ask, “Do I actually want this, or am I just bored and dopamine-hunting?”
All the Ways I Tried This (And Which One Actually Worked)
I tested no-spend days a few different ways. Some were clever. Others were chaotic.
The Workday No-Spend (Looked Good on Paper)
This was a short-lived attempt. I figured I’d make workdays no-spend days, since I’d be busy anyway.
What I forgot: my commute. That sneaky oat latte. A missed lunch that turns into a £7 M&S panic meal. Workdays are full of temptations, and apparently, I am full of very good reasons to cave.
The Every-Other-Day Plan (Too Clever for Its Own Good)
This one fell apart fast. I kept forgetting whether today was a spend day or not. Then I’d accidentally go two spend days in a row and feel like I’d broken some sacred rule. Eventually, I was spending energy on tracking the system — not on saving money.
The 20-Day Challenge (Finally, Something That Worked)
This one stuck.
Instead of obsessing over each individual day, I gave myself a monthly goal: 20 no-spend days in a month. That meant I could plan around it. I could still say yes to dinner with friends, grab a Greggs if I needed a little morale boost, and move things around if life got unpredictable.
It worked because it was flexible. Realistic. Human.
And it taught me that money management doesn’t have to be all or nothing. It can be thoughtful, imperfect, and still effective.
The Joy of a No-Spend Day (Yes, Really)
A perfect no-spend day for me? Honestly, it’s not that deep.
- I stay home.
- I cook something from what’s already in the cupboard (instant ramen counts).
- Maybe I go for a walk — wallet left at home on purpose.
- I catch up on whatever book, podcast, or Netflix series I’m half-finished with.
- And I enjoy the weird little smug feeling that comes from spending nothing.
There’s something calming about it. Like I’ve opted out of the endless push to buy, fix, upgrade, get. Just for a day.
It’s not a revolutionary act. But it is a reset.
The Money Bit (Yes, It Actually Adds Up)
Let’s talk actual numbers.
Before I started no-spend days, I was spending around £550/month of my guilt-free money. Once I started doing 20 no-spend days a month and added that velvet rope system, my spending dropped to about £400.
That meant I was consistently saving around £150/month — money that used to disappear without me even noticing.
Over a year? That’s £1,800.
I didn’t blow it all on a fancy coat or a holiday. I tucked most of it into my LISA (because future-me wants a house and is very grateful for past-me’s restraint).
Would this alone make me financially independent? No. But it’s a gentle nudge in that direction. And it’s only meaningful if I do something with those savings — invest them, pay off debt, build a buffer. Otherwise, it’s just unspent money waiting for the next impulse to come along.
Where It Got Messy
Like most experiments, this one had its wobbles.
Overcomplicating the Rules
Trying to schedule no-spend days like some kind of lunar ritual — only on weekdays, or alternating days, or whenever my horoscope said “watch your finances” — got old fast.
If your money-saving tactic requires conditional formatting… it might be a sign you’ve gone too far.
Eventually, I simplified it: 20 no-spend days a month. Easy to track. Easy to flex.
Overspending on Spend Days
There were weeks where I was so good from Monday to Thursday — and then treated myself like a Victorian orphan who’d just come into inheritance.
Lesson: don’t treat spending as a reward. It ruins the point.
Struggling to Stay Consistent
Life happens. You get busy. You forget. You bend the rules a little (“well, this wasn’t technically my coffee…”).
What helped me stick with it wasn’t guilt — it was curiosity. Some months I hit 20 no-spend days. Some months I didn’t. I kept going anyway.
And when I leaned into the fun side of it — planning a picnic date, doing fridge-clear-out dinners, walking to the park with zero money on me — it stopped feeling like a restriction and started feeling like a game.
What No-Spend Days Taught Me (That Isn’t Just About Money)
Mostly, no-spend days taught me to pause.
To slow down just enough to notice the difference between wanting and craving. Between habit and intention. Between spending to fix something and spending to enjoy something.
They’ve helped me spend more deliberately — not perfectly, but better. I occasionally still do no-spend days, if I need a reset or feel like I am overspending, usually 5-10 a month.
And they’ve made me ask better questions:
“Do I want this?” → “Do I need this?” → “Would I still want it tomorrow?”
They’re also a great minimalist hack — fewer random things bought = less clutter = more peace. That’s a win even if you never invest a penny.
And while no-spend days won’t make you financially independent overnight, they’re one of those small, quiet habits that compound over time — like interest, or the number of reusable tote bags you mysteriously accumulate.
Gentle Questions for the Road
These days, I don’t track no-spend days religiously. I keep my spending money separate, I try to leave the house with intention, and more often than not, a few no-spend days just happen naturally.
Not because I have to.
Because I want to.
So if you’re curious…
- What would it feel like to have just one no-spend day this week?
- What’s your velvet rope — the little system that slows you down just enough to notice?
- What does “enough” look like for you this month?
Nothing fancy. Just something to think about.