Getting and Spending: Tough times for thifters

A post I never wanted to write, but what happened to thrifting? I enjoy thrift trolling when the seasons change, for an easy update, and also to shop more responsibly, given a pinch of luck.

On a recent foray with my veteran-thrifter girlfriend Carroll, I had my Moment of Thrift Truth. We go for various reasons, mostly as a post-prandial excuse to spend more time together, partly because some of our favourite clothes are secondhand. But, as we agree, it is not enough to buy a bargain; we need a quality garment. Clothes are the rescue dogs of the apparel world: you have to love them, want to give them a forever home.

I came up empty. Every knit was acrylic, or it was the major content. Even the cotton tees I use for exercise were missing. If I did spot something in a natural fibre, it was damaged. I found a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dess, excellent condition, size 0; I tried on a supple faux leather jacket too tight in the arms.

Maybe I'm done with this, I thought.

The petite and slim Carroll found an embroidered denim jacket that fit perfectly, its cherry blossoms summoning spring. Well, at least one of us scored.

The explanation for thrift's sorry racks is simple: shoddy in, shoddy out. As personal stylist Bridgette Raes notes in "More Clothes, Worse Wardrobes: The Death of Quality in Modern Fashion", the dearth of decently-made clothes is apparent.

"Quietly and catastrophically, the middle ground of fashion disappeared. There once was a range where someone with a moderate budget could buy less, buy better, plan purchases, and build a wardrobe over time." She refers to the present landscape as "brutally polarized: cheap, low-quality clothes or increasingly expensive 'better clothing'." 

Her advice: Hold out for quality, and buy fewer items. I broke the news to Le Duc that a sweater the price of an armchair might now be on my shopping list. He took it well, but he might have had his hearing aids out.

The advice makes sense, but I will miss the thrill of the find. Where else do you get the frisson of a fantastic deal, and reduce waste? 

Here's the lone piece I found so far this year: a heavyweight Donegal cotton sweater, fibre content missing but I'd say pure cotton. This may have been donated because when washed it takes three days to dry!

Besides reflecting the "hollowed out middle", thrifts also show how women are addressing consumption, through three behaviours:   

1. If they can afford better-quality clothes, they are keeping what they have. There is no longer a whiff of shame about wearing "that again"; in fact, it's a sign of confidence.  

2.  Women (and men) are using thrifts to supply their side gig: reselling clothes online. I see young adults with overflowing carts, and hear them discussing what will sell on Poshmark.

 3. North Americans are buying more clothes than ever—an average of 70 items per year— but spending less, trading down to cheaper brands. They donate these mostly-synthetic clothes, buy more, and perpetuate the cycle. 

The thrift, once so stuffed with decent clothes that  I wondered, Who in the world is donating something this nice? is now a needle-in-a-haystack challenge. I've kept dropping by because it's a good source for a covered casserole dish or children's books, but for clothes, it will take a minor miracle to score another pristine, pure wool sweater.

I could shift my secondhand search to our city's vintage and designer consignment shops, but the selection is tiny; I feel feel the sorrow of a perfect leather jacket in the wrong size even more keenly there. 

Photo: Inédite, Montréal

These shops (shown, Inédite) are immaculate, the curated displays chic as a luxe boutique's. The line between retail and secondhand is blurred, the goods presented with the same pride in provenance. 

Will they seduce me from the Sally Ann? Stay tuned.