I noticed Julian browsing in the rails at an Oxfam up Hampstead last month. Julian Chen – fashion director at GQ-style monthly magazine that runs pictures of people dressed as architects in Milan eating nothing but smoothies. This man was rifling through the rails of men’s knitwear as if his life depended on it, scrutinising an oversized beige jumper with the solemn focus of a man defusing a bomb or performing open heart surgery.
When he caught sight of me he gave me that guilty fashion-person look we’ve all given each other when spotted mid-Ramsay Highlander frenzy down the charity shop … whisper silently into my Cashmere-lined Guess? Jacket here … “RESEARCH”, he mouthed sarcastically. Oh please, Julian was NOT doing research.
He was thrifting. Like every other fashion person in the world, he was plundering the rails of cast-off George at Asda t-shirts and novelty jumpers that litter 90% of charity shops up and down the country for the rare gem.
CHARITY SHOP FINDER WHEELS KNOW.
ALL. The relationship between people who work in fashion and charity shops is weirdly symbiotic. We lurk.
We prowl. We hunt. And whilst most of Britain pops into Oxfam to pick up the tin of vegetables they forgot for their weekly food shop, charity shop aficionados spend hours on end rifling through racks with military precision.
We know what to look for. We know where to look. And more importantly, we know what to ignore.
Before we get into what you should buy from charity shops and what you shouldn’t, let’s get into what separates me, RUTH, from a mere WEEKENDER. I’m talking insider tricks, geographical secrets, and tactical drops that’ll have you breezing through the rails like you work for British Vogue yourself. Allow me to introduce you to ‘Charity Shop Ferm Wheel’.
Knitwear. Obviously. But if you spend any amount of time wandering around charity shops pretending you’re looking for trousers, trust me – all the cool kids/fashion-industry-types hang out rifling through the knitwear.
Train your fingers to run over every jumper you pass; Cashmere? Merino? Lambswool?
Mohair? If it’s natural fibre and it feels soft you’re onto a winner. Vintage branded knitwear will often be splashed across Fashion people Instagram Stories quicker than you can say Ralph Lauren, so know your classics.
A vintage Moncler jacket I picked up from a British Heart Foundation in Brighton was blogged by Team Uniform shortly after I bought it (weirdly proud of that fact). Vintage favourites worth hunting for? Aquascutum, Grenfell, Berghaus, Ifora Grant, Baracuta, Cummersons, Bedale, Turnbull & Asser and Eton – to name but a few.
Many of these brands still sell similar styles in stores today – and sometimes retail for more new than they would’ve done when they were originally sold as part of your dads’ work wardrobe. Whilst reading labels is an obvious way to spot quality vintage knitwear, over time your fingers will train to recognise pure fibres from a distance. It’s like magic.
I can now walk into a room, see a cashmere jumper from three metres away and be INSTANTLY drawn to it. Honestly. Invest some time getting your fingers attuned – you’ll thank yourself later when you see the cashmere jumpers whizzing by but you can FEEL yourself mentally circling them.
I found a near perfect condition 1960s Pringle cashmere cardigan once (still one of my favourite things I own) in a British Heart Foundation for £7.50. I’ve been wearing it annually ever since, often receiving compliments and questions about where I bought it from. The sad look on people’s faces when I tell them it was from a charity shop has become something of a sport for me now.
Always cheque for moth holes – lift the jumper up to the light and give it a good stretch. Tiny ones can be repaired invisibly if you know a good alterations shop (takes you into the ‘investment’ category of vintage hunting however..) Outerwear. This one takes patience.
British people donate stupidly nice coats for one of two reasons – they were impulse buys they never liked enough to wear, or they loved them but never quite fitted correctly. Sorted. Cue: years of shopping in every charity shop from Exeter to Edinburgh have taught me that it pays to shell out a little more on outerwear.
I picked up a 1970s Aquascutum trench coat for £35 that needed new buttons, a Barbour Beaufort that someone returned because it “didn’t fit quite right” for £60 that needed a rewax and most proudly – a Burberry mac a small person shrunk in the wash that I nabbed for £25 needing some sleeve cuffs reattaching. Full disclosure, I haven’t rewaxed or repaired anything myself – I will happily pay good money for someone else to do it if the garment is worth it. Same rules as knitwear – avoid anything that looks worn-through or feels synthetic.
Cheque linings (always the first thing to go), under collars and cuffs for signs of wear, and ALWAYS cheque the armpits. There is nothing worse than a vintage goldmine that smells perpetually of deodorant. I feel this might be where I lose some readers.
Shirts. Guilty, as charged. The average, run-of-the-mill oxford cotton button up is NOT what we’re hunting for.
If you go into any high street store right now and pick up a brand new shirt it will feel like a inflatable sandy, devoid of any texture. But fear not my weary thrifter, slowly but surely clothes these days are getting stiffer. By which I mean, head into your local charity shops and start plundering for those high street classics you loved twenty years ago.
Built to last, washed enough times to break them in but not enough that they’re falling apart at the seams – older Oxford cloth shirts are where it’s at. I picked up an entire archive’s worth of Brooks Brothers OCBDs for under a tenner each. TRUE STORY.
He buys so much thats actually rumoured to have an entire ROOM dedicated to his charity shop shirt haul back home in East London. Vintage shirts are essentially his ‘go-to inspiration closet’. “Nobody suspects charity shops,” he mused when I cornered him in Selfridges Food Hall. “Its way cheaper than sourcing vintage yourself and who knows where YOUR stuff’s coming from?” If anyone out there works for his brand and is reading this – pls don’t sue me. Lets talk tailoring.
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Now we’re getting into the I-only-buy-new-because-I-don’t-have-the-patience-to-find-good-vintage department. Truth is, finding good blazers and suits in charity shops is next level. Yes, it CAN be done.
But expect to take it to your local tailor to have miraculously transformed into something that fits you perfectly. People only donate suits for one of three reasons; they’ve grown out of them, they’ve worn them out, or they never really fitted properly to begin with. You’re after the former.
Natural fibres, NO SHINE. Feel for synthetic fibres – if you can’t spot polyester backing by looking inside the jacket it probably has some. Inspect the construction of the jacket – are the canvassed properly or fused?
Always pull up the crotch of trousers to cheque for wear (no point in gorgeous jacket if the trousers autumn apart after you sit down) Clothes reseller, vintage dealer and fellow Optom student friend of mine Raj tells me he heads straight for the jackets first. If it fits across the shoulders and chest (tight areas that cannot be let out) he’ll instantly try it on. Everything else can be tricked or tailored by a good enough tailor.
He once scored a 1960s Huntsman suit for £15 that required around £120 worth of adjustments that would set him back atleast double that if bought new. Shoes. NEVER.
Sorry. With very few exceptions I will not pay money for someone else’s feet moulded into a shoe you’re now wearing. There are exceptions – barely worn formal shoes can be worth it if they’re from a good brand that uses high quality materials.
Church’s? Crockett & Jones? Tricker’s?
Maybe. If they still look fairly new and have the boxes/care cards still attached go ahead and buy them. Again.
Unless you’re pretty handy with a needle and thread yourself you’ll likely be taking them to your local shoe repair person at some point so consider this when “investing”. 99% of the time, pre loved shoes are a no from me. If your only thrifting for basics – stop.
You can get hold of really lovely mens basics that are well made new without venturing into sad-John-Lewis-cardigan territory. Now T-shirts; unless they’re vintage band shirts or have that coveted ‘sample sale’ label still attached we shall rarely ever overlap in our love for charity shop tees. Unless they’re funny.
OK I’ll buy funny tee shirts. WHERE SHOULD I BE LOOKING? If you know you’re wanting to buy clothes from charity shops – start by targeting wealthy areas.
Jobs well done: Notting Hill; Covent Garden; Hampstead. BUT – traipse a little further off the beaten path and you’ll find some serious treasures. Uni towns are GODSEND for charity shopping.
Students move house every year (often several times throughout the year) and tend to chuck everything they own into the nearest clothing drive. Plus all of their parents’ old donations. Cover all of the areas within a hour-ish drive of Oxford and you’ve got yourself a weekend of serious thrifting.
Towns with larger retired populations are equally as good for picking through carefully curated wardrobes. Been to the seaside recently? Charity shops by the sea have the best of both worlds; high turnover shops that cater more towards tourists (little stock but worth glancing through) and locals who generally donate higher quality classics.
Weeds every where you look. Think classic Americana, hunting jackets, aloha shirts. Similar logic follows for seasonal swaps.
Donate your Christmas party clothes in January. Spring clean your wardrobe twice a year? Pitch up near the aforementioned charity shops come March/April and look at ALL the spring/summer clothes that *should* fit you.
Timing is everything, obviously. My favourite time for charity shopping is immediately after a documentary urging people to declutter airs on TV. Trust me.
EVERYONE dumps their crap at the charity shop when they think they’re going to hell for owning too much stuff, and equally as soon everyone who watched the programme also decides to declutter heads down to their local shops to rifle through said crap. Full disclosure, some of us don’t ‘charity shop’. We put routes.
This is where years of working down Oxford Street comes in handy.
Me, Ellie (stylist at a major British high street brand) and our circle of similarly obsessive friends have mapped out our ideal charity shop routes based on proximity to work/home and quality of garments. We wake up, route plan, pour over Googlemaps satellite view and maximise our chances of finding the gold every Saturday.
Ellie visits the same five shops down near her flat religiously every week, knowing that she has first refusal on the rails before the general public get to peek indoors. “Getting up early is HALF the fun,” she says. “You miss the best stuff otherwise. If you’re really good at it, the volunteers will start saving stuff they think you’ll like.” She now has people at three of her favoured North London shops text her photos of interesting items they come across. Friendship jewellery at Christmas, because LET’S BE REAL – I WILL FIND OUT YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T LIKE CASHMERE BECAUSE YOU’RE BUYING IT YOURSELF RIGHT NOW.
But I digress. Help. Ever since Ted Baker announced they were opening up their own “pre-owned” racks in-store many high street charity shops struggled to keep up.
Literally none of my friends buy from these ‘vintage’ sections in-store – where Oxfam and Habitat now carefully curate the best of the rail grab bag and sell online under the alias of “preloved”. The thrill is gone. I get it.
BUT where’s the fun in buying something half someone else already wore without literally rubbing shoulders with whatever libido-enhancing hormone the hipsters used to disinfect their clothes before donating?’m just going to keep thrifting and worry about the environmental impact of what I already own another day.
