Secondhand, same problem: why thrifting won’t save us from fast fashion

By Sydney Gomes

As thrifting shifts from necessary to aesthetic, from charity to trend, it risks reproducing the very patterns it once offered an alternative to.

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It’s well known that the fashion industry is taking an immense toll on the environment, from the petroleum used to create polyester, to the land used to grow cotton. It dumps a truckload of waste each second, accounts for roughly 10% of global carbon emissions, and bears responsibility for widespread human and labour rights abuses. The industry’s unchecked production has created enough clothing on earth to dress the next six generations. It’s within this context that secondhand shopping has emerged as a poster child of ‘sustainable’ fashion.

Secondhand stores might have been around for over a century, but with demand growing, the industry is now surging at a rate of 10% each year - and Gen Z is leading the way. Today’s secondhand shopping experience is marked by algorithmically-driven platforms, like Depop, Vinted, and Sellpy, that provide seamless ways to buy and sell online. Meanwhile, social media has become the PR machine of the thrifting phenomena, with influencers like Emma Chamberlain flaunting hauls of 20+ pieces at a time.

The trend runs in tandem to the proliferation of microtrends - first there was the infamous rise of Y2K fashion, then the iconic Brazil tops and football jerseys that followed, then recently the Vibram FiveFingers replaced the Tabi as the must-have cool girl shoe. Meanwhile, we’ve circled through every single ‘core’ under the sun.

Source: YouTube, emma chamberlain

The secondhand market has provided a breeding ground for microtrends because it offers an accessible and affordable way for consumers to participate. And while many consider that a good thing at the individual level, the normalisation of this kind of hyperconsumption en masse has major drawbacks.

Despite their altruistic facade, online platforms have turned vintage shopping into an addictive, scrollable experience. Depop, for example, has over 49 million active listings, and buyers can find near-new items, and sellers can often recoup a large part of the original purchase price, which they often reinvest in new items.

It makes it all too easy to fall into the scrolling trap, mesmerised by the algorithms that present you with items picked especially to match your personal style. And it’s by design. Since these platforms profit from every sale, it suits them well to keep users buying, selling, and scrolling. They use notifications to create a manufactured sense of scarcity, warping your perception of desire and nudging you to click ‘buy’ before someone else does.

Moreover, as reselling becomes a lucrative business, thrifters have been incentivised to keep sourcing stock to flip - and many turn to the same charity shops that once provided affordable clothing for those who need it. A friend of mine described making $300-500 per week from trawling thrift stores in Sydney and reselling items online as a side-hustle. “As long as you have the right search terms and hashtags, you can pretty much resell anything,” she told me.

But whether it’s high-quality items being snapped up to feed micro-trends, or charity stores inflating prices to take advantage of a new market of buyers, it’s lower-income shoppers that will be left without - and for many, fast fashion becomes the only affordable alternative.

All of these patterns, and the sheer volume of secondhand items exchanged, appear to represent a new avenue for our old consumerist habits.

Research suggests buying secondhand overall can reduce the environmental footprint of clothing by 30-40% and that extending the life of a garment by 9 months could reduce its impact by up to 10%. However, we cannot ignore that these stats are measured against a world where fashion production devastates the planet and exploits its workers. And because it’s almost impossible to know how many times clothes have been worn before reaching our wardrobes, participating in secondhand culture could create a false sense of virtue when purchasing items that we don’t truly need.

In fact, the research tells us this is already happening. Academics from Birmingham City University recently identified a phenomenon called the “backfire rebound effect” occurring in the fashion industry, due to the increase in recycled textiles being used. Their research found that overall production and consumption are rising due to a perceived sense of eradicated responsibility, nullifying the intended environmental gains.

Consider the potential lifecycle of a top from Zara or Shein. It may be worn once and resold before eventually ending up in landfill, delaying - but not preventing - its negative environmental and social impact. Repair or recycling options exist, such as bins in H&M or via Upparel, but low-cost items rarely justify the time, effort, or money required.

As thrifting shifts from necessary to aesthetic, from charity to trend, it risks reproducing the very patterns it once offered an alternative to. By no means should we stop shopping secondhand, but we need to slow our overall consumption and interrogate the story we tell about secondhand shopping.

Until we learn to buy less, choose only what we truly love, and value longevity over novelty, fashion - whether new or pre-owned - will remain caught in the same cycle of excess.

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About the author

Sydney Gomes

Sydney is a climate and environmental professional with a passion for systems change, nature restoration and waste reduction. Originally from Australia, she is currently living in Copenhagen, Denmark.