Second to None
The joys and paradox of shopping secondhand
When this vintage beaded purse arrived by mail today, my husband asked, “Very nice. Have you been looking for something like that?”
No I hadn’t; in fact I had been searching for vintage dinner plates on Etsy when happened to see this sold alongside other things in a shop I was browsing. Maybe it was the thought of warmer weather (spring is coming to the Southern Hemisphere), but something about this bag said summer and made my eyes light up.
I loved how it didn’t immediately telegraph its provenance — it could be old, it could be new, it was anonymous, free of the status signalling associated with so much of what we see in fashion and retail these days. It was, in short, the kind of thing that makes shopping vintage (and secondhand) appealing.
Still, it was more shopping. I had promised to just buy five new items of clothing this year, and I have well blown past that mark by using shopping secondhand as a crutch, telling myself that I was allowed to buy more because I wasn’t buying new. A secondhand shopping addiction was still an addiction.
But setting aside the handwringing for a second (I will save that for a future post), I am also, for better or worse, really enjoying the lessons from shopping secondhand.
I’ve been casually shopping Vestiaire Collective and The Real Real for a couple years now and I’ve also shopped eBay and Etsy for secondhand jeans. But moving to Melbourne was a whole new world. I was suddenly in proximity to consignment and vintage stores and to Etsy sellers based in Australia (the vintage and consignment clothing scene in Singapore is extremely small). To say nothing of Facebook Marketplace. There was so much to discover.
And I started to feel like secondhand shopping was helping to reset my consumption habits. Instead of relishing the instant gratification and convenience of shopping new, I started enjoying the vague and slow pleasures of entering a vintage store and letting my eye rest on whatever intrigued me. I like that I can’t always find exactly what I want when I want it. I like getting better at sussing out quality based on touch and sight instead of brand associations. And most gratifyingly, I like being surprised by things I didn’t know I wanted, but was perfect for me. Like my beaded bag. Or my super fluffy fleece vest.
These items weren’t on a wishlist or saved on my IG. They were unplanned and unexpected, crystallising a vague, amorphous craving for something that would tie up the loose ends in my wardrobe in a surprising way.
I also like the way secondhand, especially vintage items, inspires me to do homework. My beaded macrame bag made me look up the history of such bags and although I didn’t find anything surprising, I did enjoy looking at the different types of beaded bags that have trended over the decades. When I found a pair of vintage carpenter jeans (with traces of paint splatter still on the hem), I fell down a rabbit hole reading about the style and musing over the crossover of workwear into fashion (these Louis Vuitton ones take the cake).
Even on TRR and Vestiaire Collective, where shopping secondhand is as brand-driven and algorithmic as they come, there are moments of inspiration. A Dries Van Noten plaid (below) sent me down the path of spending a very enjoyable hour watching videos of old Dries runway shows on the brand’s website. I found myself inspired by old favourites in a way I didn’t notice the first time, and deepening my appreciation of a designer I’d long admired.
The paradox of secondhand shopping is that while I am theoretically forced to slow down because it can take longer to find what I want, I also end up buying more because of the all-consuming and seductive nature of the hunt, bolstered by the excuse that this was somehow was more sustainable than shopping new. In fact, even though I tried to only buy five new pieces of clothing this year, I used secondhand shopping as a “loophole” to buy more. But as we know, there is no shopping our way out of problems, both at the individual and global level, and relentlessly shopping resale has implications of its own, as explained by fashion journalist Tiffanie Darke here.
I try to avoid buying fast fashion secondhand, because I think it just adds to the mentality that it’s ok to buy new fast fashion because there will always be a market for it (the quantities in which fast fashion are produced makes it impossible for every piece to find a forever home and we know where they’ll end up). But some shops do a nice job of curating a small selection (natural fibres, classic designs), so I don't rule it out when it fulfils a practical need and doesn’t feel disposable to me.
So what do I want to take away from this spell of secondhand madness?
Shop slow and special
I was going into my neighbourhood consignment stores twice or thrice a month (they’re unfortunately just steps away from the public library I like to work out of), and I could feel it becoming dopamine-seeking behaviour. I’ve stopped doing that and try not to drop in more than once a month, or only when I have a specific reason to shop.
Also, I try to only buy things that feel special, either in design or in quality. I think the appeal of shopping vintage/secondhand is to find something isn’t easily available by the thousands, and I would like to hold onto that spirit to help me shop better.
This doesn’t mean I don’t buy “basics” secondhand; the photo above is evidence to the contrary. That striped shirt in the photo says “Ralph Lauren” on the label, which suggested to me it could be something made to go straight to a factory outlet. It was also priced pretty cheap. But the quality was really nice (beautiful buttons and buttonholes, French seams), so I decided to get it. When something is a “basic” design, but of really nice quality you don’t normally see in most mainstream brands, it’s worth considering.
Shop for surprises, not “looks”
I always have a wishlist going on for sure, but I think the most rewarding thing about vintage shopping is to just let your eye wander. You end up with the pieces that appeal to you emotionally and don’t look like they came out of a styling playbook, and they add depth and interest to your wardrobe.
Shop in person
Apps like Vestiaire, TRR and Etsy make it easy me to shop all the time, and I do appreciate it as a resource for hunting down special things that I am unlikely to find in person. But shopping local means fewer shopping mistakes (online shopping is risky!), supporting small businesses, and just giving myself the chance to slow down and take a break from endless scrolling. And as always, honing my eye to what is actually good and amazing in person, as opposed to falling for a pretty image onscreen.
What do you like best about shopping vintage/secondhand?
Wow, you perfectly articulated lots of my feelings about shopping second hand. The thrill of unique pieces and the "pass" I give myself because it's less expensive and slightly more sustainable to buy a resale garment. It's a double edged sword for sure, something I've been doing way too much of these days.
It's a blessing/curse to have knowledge of fabrics, construction, quality, etc. I often jump on a piece I really don't need at all but wind up thinking I "have" to buy because most clothes (even from higher end brands) are made so poorly these days and I need to buy this or that because "I'll never find quality like this again". I often give a deep sigh of wistfulness when I see beautiful fabrics, linings, finishes and deep skirt hems that can be let out (I'm tall).
I love this post and can greatly relate to both the joys and the pitfalls of second hand shopping. I've been over-doing it recently, I've accumulated so many nice pieces, and I now have to stop myself from going to the shops as often as I have. Just this week I found three (!) Miyake tops and I wanted to buy them all, and it was so hard to walk away. But I did.
I love your new Dries jacket -- what a treasure. And the beaded bag is lovely, too. It will bring an interesting texture to every outfit.