Thanks, It's Thrifted!

...except when it's really not

eBay is not thrifting. Estate sales are not thrifting. Antique malls are not thrifting. Depop, The RealReal, garage sales, flea markets, and vintage shops are not thrifting.

Thrifting is when you shop in a thrift store. That’s it. You might not agree with me, but I’m not making my case just because it’s kind of annoying. The words we use are important, and I think the “everything is thrift” epidemic is an actual problem.

This wrinkly dress was thrifted. From a thrift store.

If you’re rolling your eyes and thinking of a thousand other things that matter more in this world, I hope I’ve at least successfully ragebaited you into hearing me out.

Let me first admit that there are purely selfish reasons that I dislike the overly liberal use of the word “thrift.” I’m a professional vintage dealer in New York City, which means I have a vested interest in the success of my own brand, the shops and events I sell at, and the overall perception of the secondhand market. And I think calling a curated vintage store or a vintage show “thrifting” isn’t just incorrect; it devalues the labor of myself and my peers.

In my February piece That Vintage Isn’t Overpriced, I broke down the tiers of secondhand shopping, with a brief explanation on how inventory, processing, and the overall experience directly affects the pricing necessary to maintain the different styles of secondhand selling. Thrift stores can offer lower prices because they skip most elements of added value. Inventory is donated and sorted only for safety and condition, not desirability, which means that plenty of suspiciously crusty shorts and offensively ugly garments still make their way onto the sales floor.

The thrift store trifecta of millennial "humor" that plenty of people would pay a premium not to look at

I love thrift stores. But I am not a thrift store, and I don’t sell at thrift stores. There are clear distinctions between the inventory and expectations at thrift versus other means of secondhand shopping, and mixing them all together erases the huge expenses, years of expertise, and highly skilled labor of those providing something entirely different than your average Goodwill.

But enough about me. Outside of my NYC vintage bubble, the world at large is experiencing the cascading impacts of the modern fashion industry. Whatever cause you care most about is probably deeply affected by the garment trade. Fashion is a party, and all of the most toxic guests you know are invited: human rights violations, animal abuse, art and design theft, water pollution, air pollution, giant ocean garbage patches, microplastics… the guest list is long, and getting longer by the day.

New clothing has never been worth less than it is today, entirely warping the public perception of pricing and value. SHEIN and Amazon have convinced people that $10 (or less) is an acceptable price for a brand new garment. The reality is, dirt cheap clothing is only really dirt cheap to the consumer. Labor and manufacturing didn’t actually become any less costly - someone else is just being forced to pay the price. But those costs are hidden from the people clicking add to cart, intentionally blurring the idea of what “cheap” or a “good deal” even is.

It's hard to overstate how awful most modern clothing really is

No matter how much the secondhand industry grows in popularity, the word thrift will always be associated with frugality and low prices. By using the word “thrifting” to describe all secondhand, those expectations are suddenly applied across the board, regardless of what’s actually being offered. I’ve seen it firsthand: for a lot of uninformed shoppers, used = cheap and thrift = mega cheap.

The disconnect widens when you consider that cheap clothing today isn’t the cheap clothing of 20 or 10 (or even 5) years ago. Everyday clothing of the past was significantly more expensive than what people would consider affordable today, which means the inherent value in almost all vintage apparel is a lot higher. Older garments overwhelming meet a much stricter level of quality in construction, design, and materials, meaning that they’re actually still a great deal at double or triple the price of their contemporary fast fashion equivalents. New clothing is impossibly cheap, being offered a prices that simply can’t exist without exploitation, and there’s just no way to compete if the only thing you’re looking at is price and not value.

The Sears catalog was one of the most affordable options for many Americans for decades. This image from a Summer 1950 catalog shows an array of boots that start at just under $200 if adjusted for inflation.

Our collective future relies on us all slowing our consumption, and an overwhelming shift to secondhand is an essential part of that slowdown. We need as many people as possible on board with shopping used instead of new, and a huge part of attracting more people to secondhand is by using the right words and descriptions. Your bougie aunt may not enjoy the cluttered racks of a strip mall Savers, but might have the time of her life at a luxury estate sale or a fancy local consignment store. Someone with bad dust allergies (like my husband) struggles in antique malls, but loves browsing similar offerings at an outdoor market. If you have mobility issues, the grass and gravel of a big flea could be prohibitively challenging, while the wide linoleum aisles of a thrift chain might be much more accommodating.

By calling it all thrifting, you’re likely unintentionally stopping people from exploring their options. If someone has only been to thrift stores or a garage sales and you called a vintage market “thrifting,” they may think they’re uninterested because they don’t actually understand what they’re saying no to. If you find the clunky interface of Poshmark or the overwhelming number of results on Etsy unappealing, you might not think to explore the world of beautifully curated online vintage stores because they’ve been sold to you under the same umbrella of “thrift.” Using a variety of terms to describe the many facets of secondhand shopping can help illuminate depth and variety in a way that could be essential in helping people connect with the types of secondhand that resonate with their tastes and preferences.

Why would I use the same word to describe these two shopping experiences?

The blanket use of “thrifting” can also set up new secondhand shoppers for disappointment. If you’re trying to get your friend to come with you for a first time trip to the Salvation Army, it’s actually not helpful to show off the Jean Paul Gaultier top you “thrifted” on eBay or the 1940’s silk gown you “thrifted” at your nearby vintage store. By misrepresenting the realities of the actual thrift store, you’re creating expectations that are almost impossible to reach. Rare vintage and designer finds are absolutely possible to thrift - but it takes time, dedication, and a lot of luck. Seasoned thrifters know that you can strike out at a dozen stores in a row, but newbies may find themselves discouraged from ever trying again if they’re set up to be disappointed.

Online thrift haul culture has undoubtedly played a big part in fostering a competitive (and often deceptive) view of the secondhand shopping experience. I’ve seen dozens and dozens of “thrift hauls” that exclusively featured highly desirable pieces from curated stores, or only briefly mention that the items shown were gathered over hours and hours (or even days) across numerous different stores. When you only see the best of the best shown one after the other in an algorithm-ready series of clips, it’s easy to believe that there’s some nefarious reason “thrifting” doesn’t seem to work out quite so well for you. The popularity of curated “thrift” edits feeds into a jealous and bitter cycle that often results in angry comment sections full of reseller ire.

(I’m not even gonna bother getting into that tired conversation - I was a guest for a three-part series on Amanda Lee McCarty (she/they) ‘s Clotheshorse podcast thoroughly debunking all of that boring shit years ago.)

I’d go so far as to say that outside of those in the traditional thrift industry, I think most people in secondhand shouldn’t really be featuring the word thrift in their businesses at all.

Unless your brand niche is intentionally focused around thrift store content, I don’t believe that “thrift” belongs in the name of your curated resale shops or markets. I also actively discourage people from using it on event flyers, brand bios, or marketing copy. And it’s not because I think it sounds bad, or that thrifting should be some dirty secret, but because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice. Many online shops and resale businesses opt for “thrift” or “thrifted” in the name because that’s simply the reality of where they source most of their product - which is totally fine! However, I think that actively using the term instantly devalues your work to potential customers, creating an unbreakable association with low priced goods.

Just hearing the word “thrift” immediately shifts the perceived value of an item, even if it’s subconscious, and people are often unwilling to pay market value solely because you may have “gotten it at a thrift store for $5.” Nevermind that most US thrift stores are charging at least $8-$12 for almost anything these days, if not $30-$70 for things like shoes and jackets. Over the past few years I’ve seen a dozen Burberry trench coats, wrinkled and in desperate need of dry cleaning, behind thrift store counters for well over $300 as is. But the actual prices aren’t relevant anyway. It’s about perception.

Because thrift stores are accessible to the public, there’s an unshakeable idea (no matter how unlikely) that anyone could simply just go out and find the exact same thing themselves. Grocery stores and beauty shops and shoe stores have mysterious supply chains with hidden numbers and metrics, while thrift stores have pricing and inventory that everyone can see. It’s hard for shoppers to be outraged by the labor violations and egregious markups at Urban Outfitters because they’re intentionally hidden, but knowing thrift prices allows people to feel justified in their distaste for people who seek self-employment and set their own prices for publicly available goods. I don’t think resellers should make their thrifting a secret, or hide how their source from their audiences or peers, but I do think that blatant and repeated references to “thrifting” rarely ever works in our favor.

The actual thrift industry requires an enormous amount of grueling and often dangerous labor, much of which is severely undervalued and underpaid. I don’t want to seperate myself from thrift stores and their employees because I believe my work is better or more important. In fact, I’d like us all to be paid a lot more! (Well, not the C-Suite, but you get what I mean). I know that actively choosing to undervalue my own time and expertise hurts actually hurts everyone. If I run my own business and set my own prices, my confidence in asking for my worth only increases the overall perception of the industry as whole.

Language is always changing, and the colloquial use of the word “thrift” is something that will just continue spreading as the secondhand industry grows. I’m not under the illusion that anything I write will stop people from calling curated vintage boutiques thrift stores, but it’s not stopping me from hitting publish anyway. If you love secondhand shopping, no matter what kind, it can only benefit us all to take a second and correctly name the type of shopping you’re doing. It’s free and easy to find the right words, and I promise your new find is just as impressive from the antique mall as it would be if it were “thrifted.”

At Brimfield last year, after a full day of not thrifting