When I travel, I refuse to buy bottled water,” says industrial designer Karim Rashid, standing in the kitchen of his Midtown West townhouse. He then rattles off worrisome stats about the precious resources wasted.

He came up with an alternative solution: an hourglass-shaped bottle that could be filled up at an airport or hotel bathroom in any country and safely reused endlessly, thanks to its own built-in carbon filter. Rashid launched the Bobble four years ago; since then, tens of millions have been sold worldwide, spawning several imitations.

“If I’m going to shape objects or space for the world, then it should be what I would shape for myself,” he says. “As a designer, you’re also a consumer.” Rashid estimates he designed 95 percent of the fixtures, furniture and products in his home. He gestures to a pricey sofa nestled by the French doors leading to his backyard. “If some Italian company says, ‘Design a couch for $15,000,’ of course, I’d do it — but my real love is designing things that are part of everyday life.”

You’ve probably seen Rashid’s products and not known it — such as the teardrop-shaped bottle of Method soap by the sink. A slew of fresh Rashid products is en route to market, including a biodegradable plastic coffee cup for Starbucks, a hair-removal system for Iluminage and a hair dryer in conjunction with Paul Mitchell. That’s the rare product the 55-year-old won’t use, he admits, laughing as he runs his fingers through his buzz cut.

Dressed in tight lime-green pants, Karim is a rangy ball of energy who stands 6-foot-4 in his stocking feet. His height has informed much of the brightly colored residential real estate work into which his studio has recently expanded, including three projects in upper Manhattan and a boutique complex in Soho.

Rashid has insisted on virtual entry controls in several buildings. “I hate the idea of a doorman,” he says, “having everyone know about my life, that condominium mentality.” Don’t expect him to incorporate a library into any blueprints either. “What objects are completely obsolete? Bookshelves. We don’t need books anymore,” he scoffs.

His own home, which he shares with his wife Ivana and daughter Kiva, is entirely book-free. It’s a white box-like space that serves as a backdrop for Rashid’s signature style: call it “Star Trek”-meets- “Austin Powers” with a liberal dash of Miley Cyrus. Simultaneously retro and futuristic, his trippy, Day-Glo palette dates back to his youth. “Iridescent, phorescent colors appeal when you’re a child, they’re so strong and shiny,” he says. “I call these techno colors.”

He’s sure his aesthetic pleases his celebrity clientele. “David Lynch, Tyra Banks, Moby, David Byrne, Q-Tip, Patricia Arquette, Prince and others have my work,” he says. “I’d love to design a private home for one of them!”

Pinks and whites dominate his home and designs — even the Rubik’s Cube on the windowsill of his daughter’s room is entirely rosy. Rashid has long worn little but these two hues. He carries a Tide To Go stain stick to touch up his white suits, and complains of the limited availability of pink underwear for men. Only American Apparel sells it, he sighs, “though I only wear [pink briefs] when I wear pink outfits — they show through white pants.”

His spectrum is gradually broadening to include Pantone 380C. This bright lime green first caught his attention when he was designing an early laptop in the mid-1980s; its black screen pulsed with neon letters in this processed highlighter color. He’s slowly incorporating it into his life, whether in the Chelsea condo he’s designing or the 25-story MyBrickell building in Miami.

Finding clothes in that color is proving a challenge. He bought ten pairs of skinny jeans in the shade on clearance two years ago and has yet to find another cache.