Outcasted Thrifter

I could never share the exuberance of thrifting with my own mother; worse, she deemed my thrift finds as subordinate. To spell it out, she thinks I’m collecting “wastes” – even my vintage Levis 501 from Goodwill.

Growing up in Taiwan, where second-hand culture is still in its infancy, I go to factory outlets, look at bargaining deals in department stores, but never visit flea markets or charity shops. To begin with, thrift stores are uncommon in the country. The land-scarce, densely populated nature in Taiwan makes garage sales impossible, which engenders bias towards the thrifting culture. There aren’t retail chains like Buffalo exchange or Goodwill, and independent ones are sporadic across the country with jagged pieces. Contrasting the prevalence of thrift stores in the U.S., the lack of exposure and accessibility to thrift shops in Taiwan creates a great expanse of fear and unknown in the minds of the general public. Such uncertainty towards thrifting leads to their defiance of the second-hand culture and has perpetuated ever since, which explains my mother’s dismissive attitude towards my thrifted goods.

Coming to Boston my freshman year embarked on my discovery of thrifting, but it’s always been a solitary experience. My international Taiwanese friends here still have the stigma of purchasing clothes second-hand. While they respect my shopping preferences, they would never commit to it. Interestingly, it’s always the American friends whom I meet once a week at student clubs that I get to exchange thrifting tips and applaud on their thrifted outfits. There was a girl who wore a black denim jacket for $10 at Goodwill and styled with colorful pins and patches. I was amazed by her work of art and went up to start a conversation (which is not my typical INFJ behavior). The piece is fueled by expressiveness and youth but with an undertone of classic and antiquity. It’s been over a year, and I can still picture the 90’s grunge-punk-tinged denim in my head to this day.

Vintage sweatshirts and quirky earrings, attractive as it sounds, what keeps me revisiting thrift stores is the shift in mindset and intention. I enter thrift shops without the distracting signs of “new arrivals” or “trending now” seen in fast-fashion brands, nor the dressed-up mannequins to affect my decision on picking the “best outfit.” Every item in the thrift store is chaotically organized. I would need to actively peruse, filter, and mix-match clothing myself, taking the time to put together an outfit on my own instead of being influenced by what the store recommends. This buffer time allows me to put more thought into the quality and practicality of the pieces instead of rushing an impulse-driven purchase. The unfettered, scrutinous sifting process is only beatific for a slow shopper like me. And that’s the power of thrifting – becoming a conscious shopper and staying true to my sense of style.

Bearing deep-seated biases, thrifting belies the value of timelessness and sustainability. Despite disparate perspectives, what we as consumers can all adopt is the change in mentality from hyper-consumerism to mindful shopping – treating every piece of clothing, new or second-hand, with intention and a flicker of fearlessness in style.