Admit it. Clothes shopping at charity shops wasn’t something that came naturally to me. 25 years of suit-wearing at the office.
Building up a quality wardrobe. Paying for tailor-made shirts. Shoes resoled rather than replaced.
Asking Margaret what the hell I was thinking was buying yet more clothes… Margaret would say that’s just being snobby. She might well be right. However, sometimes life throws you these little curveballs to challenge your preconceptions.
Mine was delivered one February evening at a partners’ dinner.
Young David from the corporate team was boasting about some designer jacket he’d bought that day. “Nine hundred quid?” I said, raising my glass, “You could do better at a charity shop for twenty quid.” Utter silence around the table. Followed by senior partner Charles leaning back into his seat, lips curved into that trademark smirk I’ve grown to loathe over three decades at the firm. “You’ll bet, won’t you Arthur?
Month of buying from charity shops only. Try not to look too ridiculous.” 25 years of law school has taught me many things, but when to keep your mouth shut definitely isn’t one of them. Before I knew it, I’d agreed to challenge.
One month buying a smart wardrobe entirely from charity shops. Supplements from existing wardrobe would be limited to underwear and socks. Thank heavens for small mercies.
Budget of £200 – though why I thought that was enough I have no idea. In fact initially I didn’t think I could do it. Used to spending several thousand pounds a year on clothes, £200 seemed pathetically low.
Then I realised I had absolutely no knowledge of what charity shops actually charged for clothes. How was I going to manage entire months’ wardrobe for £200? That first morning arrived and found me outside the Oxfam in South Kensington waiting for it to open.
Honestly, I felt like some kind of anthropological study. Which in a way I was. Arriving inside I was assaulted with rails of clothing sorted (or rather, not sorted) by colour then size.
Chaos. Heading towards the men’s section was nothing like popping into Huntsman’s and buying what you need. No.
Hours passed as I criss-crossed the charity shops of Kensington and Chelsea. By the end of that first day I’d learnt my first lesson. Charity shop shopping takes patience and perseverance.
Relax and enjoy the search. You will NOT find “navy blazer, 42 regular.” You will have to search through every blazer in your size range, because someone’s idea of navy might be more “midnight blue” or because that Tom Ford jacket hiding between two polyester monstrosities doesn’t have a size label but is actually your size. My efforts that first day weren’t in vain though.
I somehow managed to find: A Gieves & Hawkes blazer that someone had clearly bought but never worn – £12. New: £600+ A Turnbull & Asser shirt that looked like it’d been worn once – £8. New: £120+ …and several other bits and pieces.
It was eye-opening how good the quality of some items was. Clearly constructed. Real fabrics.
Proper attention to detail that you just don’t see manufactured off-the-rack any more. Plus, these weren’t just items that had been bought then worn once before being chucked away. They were quality pieces that had been worn and loved.
The Gieves blazer still had the tell-tale tailor’s tack in one of the pockets where someone had had it altered to fit them perfectly. Shirt still had the original collar stays in. You knew that whoever owned these clothes cared about what they wore.
Knewquality when they saw it. That first week I managed to cobble together enough outfits for work – kind of. Then came the real challenge.
Needed something smartish for dinner with clients at Rules. Nothing too flashy but not something from the casual wardrobe. Wandered around aimlessly in a British Heart Foundation somewhere in Belgravia trying not to look desperate as I browsed the smart-wear section. …Found this: Dinner jacket.
Tom Ford. Not kidding. Someone had owned this.
Bought new, wore to best events for years. Died (or donated) and headed to charity shops. Cost me £45.
Jacket new: £3,000+ Tried to explain this to the guy on the till. He just smiled and nodded wisely. “That’s a good’un,” he said. “Got in yesterday from a house clearance up Belgravia way. Shame someone’s decided to chuck out quality like that.” That’s when it hit me.
Emotional connection and all that nonsense. This jacket, probably. Taken months to design and build.
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Worn dozens (hundreds?) of times to black-tie dinners and celebrity-filled award ceremonies. And now it was mine. It’s something you don’t get with new clothes.
Continuity. Connection to the previous owner’s life. Week two was all about finding proper dress shirts for court.
But by now I’d got my routine down. Hit the charity shops early – occupants of affluent addresses clearly have better taste than their central-London counterparts. Shop during the week.
Weekenders come browse and buy the junk. Shops located near long-term residential areas seem to get more estate clearances than others. Suddenly brimming with insider knowledge I felt like one of my associates back at the office!
The three Charles Tyrwhitt shirts I found that second week (all barely worn, £8 each. New: £70+) reminded me why I’d always banged on at young lawyers about buying decent shirts. Fit.
Fabric. Proportion. Will last me decades longer than anything you’ll buy new for twice the price because companies used to care about those things.
By week three I was hooked. Was having too much damn fun finding incredible clothes for insane prices. Bow tie.
Hermes. £12. New: £150+ Church’s shoes that just needed shining to look brand-new. £30. New: £400+ Yep, I was fully converted.
Which meant that formal club dinner invitation mid-month was a testament to just how far I’d come. Had to dress appropriately of course. Half the other guests are partners and retired judges who know quality when they see it with no disguise.
Luckily the charity shop gods were smiling down on me that week. Scored a proper white tie and tails number from an obvious estate donator. Made in the 1980s maybe but who cares?
Classic fit that wouldn’t look out of place made yesterday. £65 for the whole outfit. Margaret fell about laughing when I told her but she admitted I actually did look smart. The strangest thing about this experience?
How it changed my perception of what I wore. When you rescue a quality item from the back of a charity shop rail, you feel like you’re giving it a new life. Educating the new owner.
Continuing the story it started with its previous owner. That attention to what you’re buying. Care about what you own.
Appreciation of quality extends to everything you buy beyond clothes. Especially clothes. Finished month well under budget.
Saved literally hundreds of pounds. Proved my point. But something else happened too.
Learned a little more about clothes. What quality really looks like. How you can spot it.
Would I recommend it? To every man who’ll listen probably. Though not quite as extreme as I did it.
I’ll still be buying off-the-rack from my tailors.
I’m still obviously going to invest in quality when I need something made perfectly. However now at least half my casual wardrobe will come from charity shops.
Love the thrill of the hunt. Plus you feel like you’re getting a bloody good deal. Plus it made me realise clothes last a LOT longer than they’re told to these days.
Padding your wardrobe with pieces from the past two decades showed me that. That Crombie coat from the 1970s. Hardy Amies suit from the 1990s.
Still hangs in the closet and looks great because they were built to last. Then everybody cared about those sorts of things. Try it.
You’ll learn a lot about not just clothes, but your relationship with your own possessions.
