Perspective | I shopped at a refill store for the first time. Here’s what it was like.

These stores — which sell cleaning and personal-care supplies, dried foods, and more — are growing in popularity as a way to reduce plastic waste. Packaging accounts for about 36 percent of all global plastic production, according to a recent report by the U.S. PIRG Education Fund, a nonpartisan consumer advocacy group.

“If you are eliminating packaging, which is such a substantial part of the waste stream, from your consumption habits, it can really add up and make a really big impact,” said Celeste Meiffren-Swango, one of the report’s authors.

Online directories suggest there are at least 600 refill stores and mobile delivery services across the country, including two within a 40-minute drive from my apartment in D.C.

On my first visit to one of them, I was full of questions. Did I bring the right containers? What if I made a mess trying to fill them? How would the weighing and pricing system work? How would the products here compare with what I usually bought? How much would it all cost?

I had heard that shopping at these places might not be as convenient and might be pricier because it can cost more to source products that are environmentally friendly and aren’t packaged in plastic.

Before going shopping, I needed a plan.

Meiffren-Swango suggested I think of all the times during my day that I interact with single-use plastic and focus on packaging I throw out once I’m finished with it.

When I took stock of my apartment, I found plastic everywhere. All the products lining my bathtub — two types of shampoo and conditioner, three bottles of body wash, shaving cream and a body scrub — were in plastic containers. Toothpaste? Plastic. My face wash and moisturizers? Also plastic.

A similar situation awaited me in my kitchen. A quick scan of my cabinets’ contents revealed plastic packages of dried pasta and resealable plastic pouches of quinoa and chia seeds. My dish soap, most of my cleaning products and my laundry detergent all came in plastic containers.

Feeling overwhelmed, I remembered what Judith Enck, who heads the Beyond Plastics advocacy group, told me: “We don’t have to do this perfectly.”

Instead, she recommended starting with items I use frequently. “There are some products you only use once a year. That’s not as important as the stuff that you use every day,” she said.

I decided to buy the following: dry goods, laundry detergent, dish soap and a couple of personal care products.

Armed with this loose shopping list, I headed out to Trace, a zero-waste store in Vienna, Va., about a 30-to-40-minute drive from my apartment. My usual trip to the grocery store is a roughly 20-minute walk.

I found myself among a handful of customers milling around the brightly lit 1,200-square-foot shop. Aside from dozens of dried food dispensers, there were shelves holding spices, loose-leaf teas, and cooking oils and vinegar. The “Soap Station” with detergents, dish soaps and other cleaning products occupied a back corner near personal care items, including bulk face wash and lotion.

These are the kinds of offerings you can expect to find at other refill or zero-waste stores, as well.

To minimize the risk of spills, Trace provides funnels to pour dry goods into containers. While dispensing quinoa, Mala Persaud, the store’s owner, instructed me to “go slow.” “Quinoa bounces,” she said as the stream of seeds pinged against the metal funnel. “It’s annoying.”

As I watched another customer pull out one glass jar after another from her reusable grocery bag, I felt self-conscious about my plastic containers. I asked Persaud whether it was a faux pas to bring plastic into the store.

“No, no, no, no,” she said. People can use any containers as long as they are clean. But she and her staff will advise customers on the type of container that might be most appropriate for a certain product. A dissolvable glass cleaning tablet, for example, can be dropped into an existing Windex bottle.

I didn’t think of this beforehand and was forced to pump dish soap into a small Mason jar. An employee came to my rescue for the laundry detergent, suggesting I use one of the many empty minibar-size Tito’s vodka bottles the store keeps on hand along with other assorted containers for customers who might run out while shopping or don’t come prepared.

She knew I just wanted to test the detergent and didn’t need a full jar.

Filling my containers took more time than grabbing a packaged product off the shelf. After spending about an hour shopping, I left Trace with eight items, including pasta, laundry detergent, shampoo and conditioner bars, and toothpaste tablets. My priciest purchase: about 40 cups worth of loose-leaf green tea for about $18.

My total, including tax, came out to $66.43. Looking at my receipt, I understood why some experts I spoke to highlighted cost as a barrier for many potential refill shoppers.

The price per ounce of dish soap and detergent, for example, was about three times as much as what I usually pay for traditional brands: 47 cents compared with about 15 cents.

The 5.4-ounce tube of toothpaste I usually buy for about $5 ends up costing roughly a cent per brushing, based on dentists’ recommendations to use a pea-size glob. In comparison, one toothpaste tablet from the small canister of 90 I bought for $14 comes out to about 15 cents per brushing.

Refill store owners say some of their products can cost more because they are sourced from companies that have a lower environmental and climate impact and use ethical labor practices.

“We try really hard to find stuff that’s made in the United States,” Persaud said. “Where it’s not possible, I try my hardest to work with vendors who visit their factories, or who know their factories, or who work with fair trade.”

But Persaud added that certain items, such as spices, could be cheaper to refill over time because you aren’t paying for packaging. Others, including soaps and detergent, may come in more concentrated forms than traditional products, so you end up using less, said Rini Saha, co-owner of FullFillery, a refill and zero-waste store in Takoma Park, Md.

The shampoo and conditioner bars from Dip, a New Jersey-based company, were the first thing I tried. I usually use Dove or TRESemmé liquid products, which typically cost under $10 per bottle.

A full-size conditioner bar is $32, while a full-size shampoo bar costs $24.

Kate Assaraf, Dip’s founder, said my initial pause at the price was to be expected. She said her bars are typically alternatives for consumers who use luxury hair care products.

“I used to go through a bottle of really expensive conditioner a month, and I would spend $50 to $70 on just conditioner,” Assaraf said. “But now my conditioner bar will last me and my family about a year.” A shampoo bar usually lasts an average of two to five months, she added.

The cost per use of these bars compared with traditional liquid shampoo and conditioner is likely to vary a lot because people’s hair-washing habits are often very different.

I bought mini versions of the bars, $10 for shampoo and $14.50 for conditioner. I’ve used them for more than a month (I usually wash my hair two or three times a week), and I still have plenty of both left. It takes a few extra seconds to get the product off the bars — I alternated between rubbing the bar between my hands and dragging it across my hair. The shampoo lathered nicely, and the conditioner left my hair feeling soft.

The Kaylaan toothpaste tabs were a pleasant surprise. To use them, you crunch one between your teeth and start brushing. I was skeptical that the chalky pieces would mimic traditional toothpaste, but they foam up similarly and have a light mint taste.

Make sure you keep the canister’s lid screwed on tight. I spilled at least 10 of the tiny tablets — or $1.50 worth — down the drain once after accidentally knocking the container over.

Because I bought only small amounts, I used the dish soap and laundry detergent more sparingly than I would traditional products. Both cleaned well. The soap was effective on food-crusted pans and had a fresh lemon scent. I used most of the mini Tito’s bottle of detergent on a load of sheets and towels, and my linens came out of the wash stain-free.

Would I shop there again?

While I enjoyed the refill store experience and the products I bought, realistically I wouldn’t go frequently given the drive. I could see myself stocking up on nonperishables or getting more shampoo and conditioner bars or toothpaste tablets once or twice a month. Next time, I’ll carry soap and detergent containers.

For many people, switching most of their shopping to refill or zero-waste stores might not be an option.

There may not be a store nearby. The initial price can be higher than that paid at major supermarkets or big-box stores, and these smaller shops typically don’t stock as many products.

But experts say the experience offers the chance to think differently about how you shop — a good habit to develop regardless of where you buy your groceries.

“Being in a refillery really forces you to think about how much you need of something because you’re paying by weight,” Meiffren-Swango said. “You’re kind of forced to be a more thoughtful consumer.”