As a child, I lived in secondhand clothes: hand-me-downs from older siblings, finds from car boot sales and, most of all, from charity shops. Walking into town was a familiar pilgrimage to the secondhand shops – hunting through to find hidden treasures never failed to excite me. And yet, I was always embarrassed by my secondhand wardrobe. I remember the stress of discovering that my school was hosting a non-uniform day, dreading that someone would find out that I was wearing something from a charity shop. It then came as quite a shock when, at about 17, people suddenly wanted their clothes to be preloved, and that loudly proclaiming “It’s from a charity shop!” became the new “Thanks, it has pockets!”
For years, thrifting has been a sort of indicator of social class and wealth, and yet recently there has been a dramatic shift in this stereotype, with the practice now representing trendiness, popularity, and style. This change in attitude can be explained in a number of ways. Naturally, the first place to look is the financial benefits. With the cost of living crisis, many are struggling to buy groceries and pay bills, let alone stock their wardrobes. And so, we turn to the world of secondhand clothing – because who would want to pay £30 for a new knit jumper when you could pay £6 for the same thing? As a society, we seem to have moved away from a world in which success is measured exclusively in brand-new, designer clothes, and there is now appeal in being savvy with money and, well, thrifty.
As well as this, there is a moral incentive. With an increase in awareness of maintaining environmental and ethical standards, the practice of buying secondhand definitely seems more attractive than constantly consuming brand-new items of clothing. More than any other generation, Gen Z is making an effort to boycott fast fashion, and thrifting is an easy, affordable way to do so. Aside from ease and affordability, the recycling of preloved clothing reduces production labour and, in turn, emits nothing into the atmosphere.
Secondhand clothing is ethically better in so many ways. According to Oxfam, “shopping second-hand fashion would prevent harmful emissions equivalent to flying around the world 17,000 times” – ultimately it’s a very simple way to be kinder to the planet. Also, with the majority of secondhand clothing sales going to charities like Oxfam, we can support important causes at the same time as adding to our wardrobes.
Despite the trend in thrifting having many practical justifications, it goes far beyond that. The key thing, I think, is uniqueness. Everyone wants to find that statement piece that no one else owns and, without unlimited budgets to spend on designer items, thrifting is our source. We all have those Pinterest-inspired, specific pieces that we dream of finding in a charity shop (and would never shut up about if we did). Let’s be real, the dream is to source, style and accessorise the perfect outfit from a Cancer Research charity shop just like they do in the film Wild Child.
This urge to find unique, secondhand pieces has become a cultural phenomenon of massive proportions, with creators like @kglillian on TikTok being paid to curate thrifted, styled collections for their followers and celebrities alike. It’s hard to deny that smug feeling when someone asks where the top you’re wearing is from and you get to proudly reply “I thrifted it”, knowing that it’s yours and yours alone. Then, finally, we can fulfil our desires for the “vintage look”, but without having to spend £80 on a pair of shredded Levi’s.
Thanks to this fashion trend/environmentalist hybrid, the collective income of charity shops has increased by around 15% when compared to previous years. I for one, am all for the shift towards favouring thrifted fashion. Regardless of whether you choose to shop secondhand because of cost, environment, or any other reason, it has a positive impact, and I hope that sustainable, slow fashion remains “cool” for a long time to come.