The Simple Life: Goodbye to having it all.

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The change in consumer psychology is shaking many merchants to their roots. Traditional department stores ranging from Saks Fifth Avenue to Neiman Marcus have suffered from poor business as customers flock to discounters and back- to-basics stores, notably the Limited, the Gap, Wal-Mart and K Mart. The 75-store Sharper Image chain, which made its reputation in the '80s with high- tech gadgets, has been blurring its image to include more low-cost, practical goods. Example: a $19.95 aluminum-can crusher for recyclers.

In fact, that's another reason for rejecting rampant materialism: its impact on the environment. "Whenever I use something or buy something now, I'm thinking, Where is this going to end up?" says Debbie Worthley, 46, a student adviser at the University of Vermont. "I'm not as interested in buying gadgets as I was a few years ago." Seventh Generation, a two-year-old Colchester, Vt., mail-order firm that specializes in goods for the environmentally conscious, has an essay in its catalog titled "Why You Should Buy Less Stuff." Recycling has taken hold as a voguish and satisfying pursuit. People who used to meet at trendy bars now trade bons mots while sorting their garbage into the appropriate bins at the public dump. Even the smaller luxuries are giving way to environmental vigilance. If last year's popular orange juice was a quart of premium with extra pulp, this year's is canned concentrate, which requires less packaging.

The buzz word among marketers is "value" products, meaning quality at a low price. The Campbell Soup Co. has introduced discount frozen foods, including Swanson budget dinners (average cost: $1.39). In the hope of stemming a decline in business that typically reached 20% in the past year, restaurants are adding such moderately priced classics as fried chicken, meat loaf and bread pudding. Restaurateurs have coined a phrase for it: "casualization." In fast food, price is the object. After Taco Bell won new fans by pricing about half its items at 99 cents or less, Burger King began offering Burger Buddies cheeseburgers at 29 cents for customers who buy fries and a drink.

Sales of the ultimate yuppie symbol, the BMW, fell to 63,600 in the U.S. last year, a drop of 28% from 1985 levels. Meanwhile, Honda sales increased 29.7%, to 716,500. The sales pitch for autos today would have bored the driving gloves off an '80s car buff: safety features (antilock brakes, air bags), versatility (four doors, built-in child seats) and value. A 1991 Pontiac Grand Prix model sells for under $20,000 but looks (on the outside, anyway) like last year's sporty $26,000 Turbo model.

Even trendiness itself, or at least the slavish chronicling of consumer ephemera, has the taint of the passe. Many magazines that served as arbiters of hipness have gone out of business, including Egg, 7 Days, Smart and Fame. In the meantime, Vanity Fair thrives by sticking to cover subjects that have the rosy glow of maturity: Farrah and Ryan, Sly Stallone, Madonna. At the same time, such magazines as Workbench, Homeowner and 1001 Home Ideas are briskly building up their circulation. One of the hottest newcomers is Countryside, a Hearst glossy about the virtues of conservation, rural landscapes and life in the exurbs.