I have a terrible habit of buying heavy vintage coats in the middle of July. I drag them home, hang them on the back of a chair, and sweat just looking at them. By the time winter actually arrives, I usually realize they are completely impractical and too bulky to wear on the train.
The endless search for the right red I own fourteen red lipsticks right now. None of them are exactly what I want. Some dry down to crusty flakes. Some slide onto my teeth the second I stop paying attention. I take photos of every formula I try in harsh daylight. I keep a running spreadsheet of which ones survive a cup of coffee and which ones disappear before noon.
Skipping the complicated steps I am not going to contour my face for a Tuesday morning. I skip a lot of the heavy tutorials you see online. I just want to know if a cream blush blends out with my bare fingers while I am rushing out the door. I test things for speed. If a product requires three different brushes and a damp sponge to look decent, I usually give up on it.
What ends up in the bin I am pretty brutal when I clear out my makeup drawers. I document what gets tossed and why. Sometimes a trendy serum gives me an awful rash. Sometimes a popular mascara clumps up into little concrete blocks on my lashes. I take close up photos of the bad results. It saves you the trouble of buying something that belongs in the trash.