Where Have All the Vintage Lovers Gone?
Vintage is bigger than ever. Sort of.
According to industry experts, search term data, and viral internet moments, vintage and secondhand are dominating the fashion space. So why are so many vintage dealers reporting dismal sales, fewer customers, and weakening morale?
I’ve been a lifelong collector, casual seller of over a decade, and professional dealer for almost six years. The industry has experienced huge changes in my relatively short stint in vintage, but there’s a particular change I’ve noticed that’s becoming more prevalent. Everyone wants “vintage” these days - but only a certain kind.
The new vintage shopper wants a Coach bag, but has never heard of Bonnie Cashin. She wants a Betsey Johnson dress, but doesn’t recognize Alley Cat or Punk. Vintage Prada and Roberto Cavalli flies priced in the hundreds, but shoppers balk at spending the same amount on Scott Barrie or Escada. The quality is often even better on overlooked vintage items. The problem? Most shoppers don’t know what quality really looks like.
The average consumer is so disconnected from the physical components of clothing that they don’t have the necessary knowledge or experience to identify what makes a garment good (or bad). Many shoppers are entirely reliant on a few signifiers to inform them of what’s worth buying: was this piece made by a brand name I recognize? Are people I deem cool also buying this?
A label like Fendi feels like a safe bet: celebrities wear Fendi on the red carpet. Sarah Jessica Parker wore a dozen different Fendi bags on Sex in the City. The familiar F logo and the Made in Italy tag feel like assurances that a $300 purchase is safe. The value has been assigned for you by outside sources, no expertise necessary.
The fastest growing category of vintage isn’t for the masses. It’s pay to play, requiring shoppers to buy tickets, wait in lines, and fork over three digit prices once they’re in. The current vintage frenzy is ripe with buzzwords like “archival” and “runway.” Designer names are everything, but only the select labels deemed cool or relevant in the moment.
The biggest events in vintage are driven by online hype, celebrity, and huge crowds. Chloe Sevigny’s 2023 closet sale, dubbed the #saleofthecentury on the event’s Instagram flyers, drew hundreds of shoppers. A 29-year-old was first in line at 6 AM - doors opened at noon. TikTok user primaryyschool described fighting in line over people cutting, with a commenter chiming in “omg I was next to you the line dudes drama with those girls was crazy.”
Gigi Hadid hosted Vogue’s Vintage Market this spring, which featured designer pieces straight from celebrity closets, sold to raise money for those impacted by the LA wildfires. The photos from outside the event were indistinguishable from the sidewalk shots outside a NYFW show, full of editors, stylists, and celebs showing off their designer outfits. The crowd was undoubtedly stylish, but in a way that felt markedly different from the best dressed guests at the vintage events I usually frequent.
At the non-Vogue vintage events I both sell at and attend, there’s been a palpable shift. Die-hard aficionados in tip-to-toe 1970’s suiting have been replaced with shoppers in Lululemon leggings, carrying brand new Dior totes and hurriedly flipping past anything without an instantly recognizable label. And all of this is no shade to leggings and designer tote bags - in fact, wearing leggings to a vintage event is a smart move because it makes items easy to try on in the open. The thing is, most of these shoppers aren’t wearing athleisure to avoid the fitting room lines. They’re wearing casual, comfortable, contemporary clothing because that’s just how they dress. And if you’re more familiar with Bergdorf than Brimfield, you’ll undoubtedly be a different kind of shopper.
And the excitement goes beyond the clothing itself. The shopping experience and the provenance are just as important, if not even more so. Buyers are willing to pay premiums to say that they bought a piece at an exclusive sale, or to post online about the famous last owner of their new-to-them item. It doesn’t matter that none of these markers are apparent to passerby, or that the designer label can’t be seen when the item is actually being worn. The bragging rights are essential to the cool factor.
As the wealth divide continues to widen, many markets are seeing growth limited to opposite ends of the spectrum. Last fall, Halie Lesavage of Marie Claire reported that “Fashion is Losing the Middle Ground.” Forbes contributor Kate Hardcastle described it best: “[Consumers] no longer settle for the middle ground but gravitate towards extremes, value for some, high-end luxury for others.”
Though vintage often feels like a its own category, it is still a piece of the larger fashion industry at its core. Many shoppers are turning to low-cost secondhand out of financial necessity, while others are drawn to thrifting as it becomes a less stigmatized alternative to an increasingly toxic industry.
For the much smaller group on the other side that does have money to spend, wealth markers like rare, archival vintage pieces are a way to signal your belonging to an exclusive in-group. In the age of reverse image search and comment-section sleuthers, accessibility is at an all time high. The only way to achieve a truly exclusive wardrobe is to hunt down pieces that nobody else can even find - or hire someone to do it for you.
Last fall, Samina Virk spoke to the BBC about the explosive growth of high-end vintage. “Vintage has become its own luxury status symbol,” said Virk, the CEO of Vestiaire Collective. “It's not always about what's new anymore. Sometimes it's about what's old and hard to find.”
This dumbbell-shaped industry shift leaves mid-range brands in the lurch, vintage dealers included. Shoppers are eager to score a $12 dress from a thrift store, or an $800 Chloé bag from a celebrity-approved vintage boutique. But a $200 handmade dress from the 70’s? Not so much.
For mid-price dealers struggling to keep up, the solution may sound easy - just pivot to designer. But big-ticket sales only work if you have the audience, the access to high end inventory, and the money to invest in way bigger up-front costs. And more expensive product means more risk. What happens if that designer piece you invested in just doesn’t sell? What if it’s damaged by a customer in a fitting room, ruined by a shoddy dry cleaner, or lost in the mail?
I’m lucky enough to have the audience and the access to find and sell designer goods, but I struggle with the up-front investment costs. Market fees and shop rent are due weeks (or even months) before the sales actually make up for it, so I’m constantly fronting money for payouts that feel far away. Add on the high investment on designer inventory and I’m further in the hole, just barely recouping enough to keep the hamster wheel spinning until my next great sales day.
So what’s the fix?
To be honest, I don’t know. If there was a magic word to sell all of my psychedelic print maxis and sweet cotton fit-and-flares, I’d share it far and wide. But one thing that I do know for certain is that change is inevitable. Culture moves, public perception shifts, what’s new becomes old. I know vintage is here to stay, so I’m genuinely happy and excited to see so many new people jump in. But getting all of those same new people to stick around? That’s on us.
Whether you’re a seller, a shopper, or a little bit of both - you hold the power. The only way for uninformed masses to become informed masses is if someone steps up to do the informing. The only way to make homemade, indie label, under-the-radar vintage coveted is by championing it with unyielding devotion. The only way to ensure your favorite mid-range vintage dealers and other small business owners stay afloat is with your continued support. The only way to educate other shoppers on quality markers and good garment construction is by talking about it, loudly.
If any of you want to meet up in a public space and have an impassioned conversation about vintage rayon and metal zippers, my line is open.
