Cleaning: that necessary evil most of us dread and a select few weirdly adore. But if you’re in the “I’d rather do anything else” camp, allow me to introduce you to the wild world of Cleantok—a place where mopping isn’t just a chore; it’s a lifestyle. Picture perfectly decanted soaps, fridge shelves arranged with military precision, and vacuum lines so sharp they’d bring a drill sergeant to tears. Cleantok, TikTok’s cleaning-obsessed subculture, has somehow turned scrubbing toilets into a captivating spectator sport—and honestly, it’s weirdly hypnotic.

There’s nothing quite as ironic as lounging in your pajamas, watching videos of people deep-cleaning their entire homes, while your own kitchen sink is still full of yesterday’s dishes. Sure, it’s motivating—there’s a certain allure to the idea of getting your life together, one freshly mopped floor at a time. And let’s be real, few things feel as satisfying as a spotless house with all the laundry folded and put away. A clean home practically screams, “Look at me, I’ve got my life together!” But before you dive into color-coding your pantry and decanting your cereal, let’s take a closer look at the not-so-gleaming side of this sparkling, spotless subculture.

There’s no denying the appeal of Cleantok. With its soothing ASMR scrubbing sounds, satisfying time-lapses, and gleaming results, these videos are like spa treatments for your overstimulated brain. Unsurprisingly, this trend skyrocketed during the pandemic, when the world was stuck at home, obsessively disinfecting everything in sight. Cleaning became more than just about hygiene—it was about regaining a sense of control. Remember the days of scrubbing down groceries the second you got home? Some people took it to extremes, literally washing fruits, vegetables, and even eggs with soap. Because, apparently, the apocalypse calls for squeaky-clean produce.

Feeding the obsession even further was The Home Edit, the luxury organizing company behind those Kardashian-approved, hyper-curated pantries that look as if they belong in a high-end department store. The Home Edit’s rise to fame brought us a Netflix show and a Walmart collection, solidifying the notion that a perfectly organized home is the ultimate status symbol. But let’s be real—Cleantok’s standards are about as attainable as a Kardashian waistline… unless you’ve got a wad of cash and personal assistants in your corner.

But here’s the biggest rub: Cleantok isn’t just impractical—it’s pricey. The influencers behind those stunning restock videos? Many are writing off their endless cleaning gadgets, storage bins, and designer sprays as business expenses. Meanwhile, the rest of us are left wondering if we can justify spending $50 on a label maker or $100 on matching spice jars when rent is due.

Let’s not even start on the waste. Taking items already in containers (like laundry detergent or cereal) and transferring them into “aesthetically pleasing” bins might make for good TikToks, but it’s a wasteful nightmare. Those “fridge restock” videos where everything is decanted and arranged like a Tetris championship? They’re beautiful, but most families simply don’t have the time, money, or energy for that level of precision.

What’s truly alarming about this trend isn’t just the cost—it’s the potential danger. A growing number of Cleantok creators are mixing cleaning chemicals to create “aesthetic” foaming videos, sparking hazardous trends. Some influencers casually pour bleach and ammonia into their toilet bowls like they’re conducting a science experiment, completely ignoring the fact that this combination releases toxic fumes. Pro tip: If your lungs start burning, it’s not #CleanGoals—it’s a full-blown chemical hazard.

And then there’s the sheer absurdity. Washing your Christmas tree in the bathtub? Who has time for that? Apparently, these influencers do. But for the average person with kids, a 9-to-5, and maybe a shred of sanity left, such stunts are laughably out of reach.

At its core, Cleantok is about aspiration. It promises a life where chaos is vanquished, one labeled bin at a time. But like most things on social media, it’s not real life. It’s performance art disguised as domesticity. Sure, it’s inspiring to watch someone scrub their stovetop until it gleams, but don’t let it guilt-trip you into thinking your home isn’t good enough.

Real homes are messy because real lives are messy. And that’s okay. Your fridge doesn’t need to look like an art gallery, and your cleaning routine doesn’t need to be TikTok-worthy. So, take Cleantok for what it is: a little entertainment, a little inspiration, and a whole lot of unattainable fantasy.

Till next time, be wickedly wonderful.