Hand-Me-Down Kid
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Until 7th grade, my entire wardrobe was predetermined by my siblings and extended family. I was a hand-me-down kid and I absolutely hated it. My family never saw a problem with it, it was a cheaper option and there was no reason to throw away a wearable piece of clothing; my dad has worn clothes for 20–30 years and still wears them to this day. I now identify as non-binary (she/her/hers) so a striking benefit that came from hand-me-downs was that it let me experience male and female clothing. I had to be more creative and resourceful for my outfits at a young age. One of the first times I was complimented on my fashion sense was in elementary school when I wore a pair of jeans with a knitted edge, a teacher passing by gushed about my outfit and called me a “fashionista”. That was when I knew I wanted to discover more about fashion.
Once I entered middle school, my older siblings would take me on mini-shopping excursions where — with my measly $20 bill in hand — I can get the ironic printed tees I’ve always dreamed of. At this point my friends began to experiment with looking more mature and I started to feel left behind. I couldn’t afford new looks as often as them and it simply can’t be from Giant Tiger or Walmart — no, no that’s a fashion faux pas to say the least. I never even dared to think about going to a thrift store except for the occasional Halloween or spirit day costume, otherwise, thrift stores were charities, they were for poor people. It feels terrible to even put that into words. I fell in that lower income bracket, but I felt ashamed if I had to shop there. It was the last resort. My upbringing made me accustomed to wearing used clothes, but I haven’t done so in a while. New clothes are a status symbol when you’re a teenager.
A few years later as a high school freshman, fast fashion was my saving grace. I remember queueing up early in the morning with my mom and sister just to get a $21 gift card for Forever 21’s Canadian debut. Everything was so cheap and looked so nice! It was a whole new world where I could finally find my style. I could afford actual blouses and leggings for the first time and quickly abandoned my regular hoodie and jeans look. What I did notice was that these clothes would get little holes in them after owning them for about a month. I chalked this up to not separating my clothes in the laundry and general wear and tear, but I didn’t realize it was the quality of the textiles.
Fast forward to being a freshman in university, in a new city away from all my friends. Another opportunity to reinvent myself. During my undergrad, shopping therapy provided an escape and was an activity to look forward to. Being in a university town was eye opening, I never knew a community so passionate about the environment and more than happy to educate people about how their choices affect the world around them. This is where I learned how harmful fast fashion was and that I was feeding into this cycle where clothes are seen as disposable. My habits and mindset shifted from wearing exclusively hand-me-downs to buying into fast fashion. I tried to abandon shopping from fast fashion shops, but this was easier said than done.
In the latter half of my undergraduate career, I discovered thrifting and upcycling as a practical option. My friend took me shopping to popular consignment stores for the first time. Discovering consignment stores made me proud that I was stimulating the local economy while still buying second-hand. Prior to this the only second-hand stores I knew were chains that were part of a bigger conglomerate or charity. Unlike thrift stores, consignment stores are clear about making a profit; they buy clothes from people to resell, so they are much more fastidious of what is accepted. Some consignment stores only buy certain brand-named clothing to fit with the shop aesthetic. One store I shopped at even sold new clothes from an independent supplier. Now, I’ve found countless new pieces with tags still attached but these were never previously owned, which in my opinion almost felt counterintuitive. In their defense, it’s a small business and their inventory is dependent on procuring used clothes from people, so the supply may be limited. As seemingly more consignment stores began to pop up and the used clothing trend took off the competition became overwhelming, and the price went up. I still wanted to be environmentally conscious with my purchases, so my friend and I went back to typical thrift stores. These stores are more affordable and had a larger selection especially for men’s apparel.
The summer of my fourth year, I would pass a small consignment store conveniently placed in a bustling plaza — The Attic. It was my favourite store in Guelph; the clothes were very high quality and priced fairly. I felt that this was what I was looking for all along, the only drawback was that it was quite small. I wanted a larger selection, so I looked for other options and found Plato’s closet which combined the affordable aspect of typical thrift stores but with a more curated inventory. My favourite part of Plato’s Closet are the sales, specifically the 90% off sale; this meant that I could buy a whole closet full of clothing for 0.50¢ to $1 a piece. Looking back now, consuming, and getting deals were addicting. I had styles for every occasion, and I still wanted more.
This brings us to last year, 2020, when the world stopped, and everything closed. I didn’t buy as many clothes and the notion that these were second-hand pieces made it feel dangerous to buy. Instead of the runway way show that was hosted in early 2020, Sara L. and I decided to hold a sustainable photoshoot where I supplied most of the clothes. At this point, I had not been in the thrifted scene for a while. I scoured through Facebook marketplace, online second-hand retailers and thrift stores and was paying far more than what I was used to. People were reselling their clothes and calling them “vintage”. The thrift store chains were much more expensive and busier with teenagers and young adults. I thought this was all in my head. But, indeed, the demographic for thrifted clothing has shifted. These stores that were once born from necessity for lower income communities were becoming gentrified and I was part of the problem. The communities who rely on these stores are being pushed out because money talks louder than poverty. As much as I love fashion in the creative and artistic sense, it’s an industry that perpetuates consumerism.
The draw of finding a unique piece of clothing at a discounted price is a dream for any fashion forward person. This had made me re-evaluate where I fit in this cycle. Even when I was thrifting, I would buy in excess and this behaviour is encouraged. In media, new clothing is a sense of rebirth, with countless fashion montages in movies, a new outfit transforming a person’s confidence overnight, and the attitude “New outfit, new me.” Thrifting makes this attainable for the everyday person. I would buy entire outfits using the excuse that I can wear them for *insert potential event* or “it’s only $1, might as well get it anyway” but that was needless consumerism.
Today, I won’t be buying new or thrifted clothes. I will be shopping in my own closet and weed out things that don’t fit or that I bought on a whim. Like my dad, I’ll be keeping my clothes for years to come and prioritizing durability over a trend that will fade. Fashion will stay a staple in my life, but I’ll utilize the resources I have to fulfill that need and take a lesson from the past as a hand-me-down kid.
