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Who Is Things I Bought And Liked Sarah Collins

So, picture this: I’m three tabs deep into a late-night rabbit hole, trying to find a decent pair of sweatpants that won’t pill after two washes. You know the struggle. Suddenly, I stumble on a blog post titled “The Only Sweatpants That Don’t Make Me Look Like a Gremlin.” I click it, and there she is—Sarah Collins, calmly explaining why a $68 French Terry jogger is worth every damn penny. I bought them. She was right. And just like that, I was hooked.

That’s the thing about Sarah Collins, the mastermind behind Things I Bought And Liked. She’s not a influencer in the shiny, sponsored sense. She’s more like that brutally honest friend who texts you a photo of a lamp from Target and says, “Buy this, but skip the throw pillow.” Her whole gig is simple: she buys stuff, she tries it, and if she likes it, she tells you. No fluff, no affiliate-link frenzy disguised as advice—just a genuinely useful signal in the noise of consumer chaos.

She’s Not Trying to Sell You a Lifestyle

Most “lifestyle” bloggers make you feel like you’re failing at adulthood because your coffee table isn’t curated. Sarah? She’ll post a picture of her favorite $12 kitchen scissors right next to a designer handbag, and she’ll treat both with the same level of serious consideration. That’s the magic. She’s allergic to pretension. If she loves a linen dress from a random Etsy shop, she’ll rave about it. If a wildly expensive moisturizer is “meh,” she’ll tell you to save your cash. (And she’ll do it with a wry aside about her own shopping impulse control.)

I’ve bought a wool coat, a mechanical pencil, and a weirdly perfect spatula because of her. Every time, I think: This woman gets it. She understands that we’re all just trying to buy one less piece of garbage in our lifetime. She’s the consumer’s consumer—someone who has worn, washed, and stress-tested the thing so you don’t have to.

The Origin Story (Because Everyone Loves an Origin Story)

Sarah started Things I Bought And Liked back in 2018 as a side project. She was working in corporate law, which is already a shocking plot twist—a lawyer who wanted to talk about tote bags? The blog was a humble list of things she actually spent her own money on. No sponsors, no PR packages. Just a woman with a keyboard and a hot take on reusable water bottles. It grew like a weed. Why? Because we were starving for an honest voice.

Today, her newsletter has over 700,000 subscribers. Seven hundred thousand. That’s roughly the population of a small city, all waiting to hear if that new Dyson vacuum is actually life-changing or just overpriced hype. Spoiler: she’ll tell you the Dyson is good, but the Miele is better for pet hair—and she’ll add a joke about finding a dog hair in her cereal to prove her credentials.

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What Makes Her Different? (Hint: It’s Not Just the Stuff)

Here’s the ironylayer: Sarah Collins isn’t a shopping addict. She’s a curator. She uses the exact same framework for products that a sommelier uses for wine—context, utility, and joy. She’ll link you to a $400 cashmere sweater, but then she’ll immediately follow it with a $5 pair of nail clippers that “changed her life.” (I bought those clippers. They actually did change my life. My cuticles have never been calmer.) She’s a walking, talking algorithm for the sweet spot between quality and value.

She also has this habit of writing reviews that feel like short stories. She’ll describe a pair of boots as “the kind of boots you want to wear when you’re pretending you have your life together.” I felt seen. I also bought the boots. They’re great. The point is: she sells the feeling of making a smart choice, not just the product itself.

The Emotional Payoff (Yes, It’s Real)

I know, I know—talking about buying things as an “emotional payoff” sounds shallow. But here’s the truth: modern life is exhausting. We’re drowning in fake reviews, influencer scripts, and “limited drops.” Sarah cuts through that. When I read her reviews, I feel a tiny surge of relief. Oh, someone has already done the work. It’s like having a personal shopper who actually respects your budget and your taste. And she never makes you feel silly for wanting a better blender or a nicer notebook.

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I once messaged her a question about a desk chair. She replied in under an hour—a detailed, personal response. I nearly cried. (I’m not kidding. I’d just spent three days reading conflicting Amazon reviews.) That level of care is rare. It’s why her community is so loyal. We’re not followers; we’re fellow travelers in the weird, wonderful journey of buying things that don’t suck.

So, Who Is Sarah Collins, Really?

At her core, she’s a normal person who happens to have a superpower for noticing what’s worth your time and money. She’s the friend who warns you away from the trendy kitchen gadget that will gather dust, and the cheerleader who celebrates when you find that perfect, under-$30 tote. She’s also deeply aware of the irony of her job—talking about consumerism as a means to fight consumer regret.

I don’t know Sarah Collins personally. But I trust her. And in a world where trust is the rarest commodity (rater than a good waterproof jacket, honestly), that’s everything. So go ahead, click her link. Read about that $12 nail clipper. Buy the sweatpants. You’ll probably thank her later. And if you don’t? She’ll probably write an honest review about that, too.