I’ve always been a shopaholic – my mum used to joke that I got that gene from her mum’s mum. Growing up, I wore some of her beautiful clothes. From the moment I had money, I spent it on clothes. I was also a product of my times – my teenage years coincided with the heyday of Topshop, Kookahy and Morgan, which brought style to every high street.
Growing up, I’d always used shopping as an emotional buffer. Celebrating something? Go buy a new dress. Having a bad week? Take a stroll through a department store to cheer myself up. Fashion made me happy. It felt like a simple, harmless habit that I could indulge in as many times as my bank account allowed. My closet grew to unreasonably satisfying proportions. There was no reason to think I’d change.
Of course I did. It crept up on me slowly, over time, and took me by surprise. Something changed when I became a vegetarian over a decade ago. It was a decision I made for entirely ethical reasons; I could no longer bear the idea of animals dying for my appetite. It took me a few years to come to see leather as a double standard; I thoughtlessly assumed it was a by-product. But eventually I realized that happily wearing animal skins while shunning meat was a pretty epic form of cognitive dissonance.
I’ve long been an avid consumer, only to feel a little guilty whenever I read an article about the waste the fashion industry produces. That feeling has only intensified as we all learn more about fast fashion’s impact on climate change. Experts estimate that 2-8% of emissions are due to the fast fashion industry, which is more than shipping and international aviation combined. I’ve always prided myself on not shopping at brands that sell clothes at unbelievably cheap prices, but I began to wonder if the places I frequent are really that good.
Eventually, I couldn’t continue justifying my shopping habits with the empty excuse that buying a new top gives you a brief serotonin hit. I felt really embarrassed that it had taken me so long to face the fact that my “harmless” hobby wasn’t so harmless after all. A year ago, I decided I would no longer buy new clothes, shoes, jewelry, or handbags. I signed up for a resale platform and entered the sometimes confusing world of second-hand selling.
In the past year of buying secondhand, my mindset has shifted in ways I never expected. Seeing how much stuff is on sale on resale sites has made me more aware of how little we value our clothes and how much we throw away. It’s amazing how often I search for something I want and find something new or worn once on Vinted or depop. The serotonin hit that so many of us chase isn’t there when we buy something with little thought, only to wear it a few times and then it’s gone.
The frequency of my shopping has also changed. My long-standing desire to chase endless new arrivals to keep up with fashion is gone. I can now go weeks without looking at a shopping site and I try not to browse mindlessly. Instead, I try to look for only what I want within a narrow search area. This reduces the temptation to buy things impulsively. For a while, I would test myself by wandering through high street shops to see if I couldn’t resist stuffing my basket with shiny new clothes. In the year since I stopped buying new clothes, that desire has faded dramatically and now when I walk around I feel a bit overwhelmed by the amount of choice on offer.
Katherine McQueen – Getty Images
Secondhand shopping has made me more particular about buying natural fibers whenever possible. It’s not just fast fashion that’s responsible for the mass production of polyester; it’s surprising how many high-end designer brands charge exorbitant prices for disposable fabrics. It’s so much fun to find 100% wool pants for the cold winter months, or something beautiful made from silk.
I have found that my rule has its limits. I still buy some things new, like t-shirts, underwear, socks, but I don’t mind buying shoes second-hand, even though some people dislike them. I have also given up a few times, like when I desperately needed a jumper because of the cold, and found a pair of pants I’ve always wanted on sale. It didn’t feel good. Another unpleasant truth is hard to accept: I have a 10-year supply of clothes. I can get away with not buying anything. It’s the really ethical thing to do, but it’s hard to quit consumerism completely. Like we do every day in a thousand ways, I’ve compromised and absolved myself of some of the responsibility, but by no means all of it. For now, I feel like I can live with it.
Bella McKee’s second-hand shopping tips
Before you start browsing, decide what you want or need, or you’ll end up scrolling miserably. Narrow your search as much as possible – by brand, material, size, color – to sift through irrelevant content.
Beware of sellers offering multiple sizes or colors – they’re usually resellers who often inflate the prices of new, rather than used, items.
Check the seller’s reviews before you buy – you don’t want to fall in love with a coat only to be disappointed when it never gets delivered.
Sell your own clothes when you buy something. Make the most of your wardrobe. Your closet doesn’t have to be bulging, even if it’s full of second-hand items.
If you’re buying designer items, most sites will check the authenticity for a small fee, and it’s definitely worth paying a little extra.
Bella McKee’s new novel, What a Way to Go (The Borough Press, £20), is out now.
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