So you want to shop secondhand?— Part 0: The introduction
I introduce a new content series and share an abbreviated version of how I came to love thrifting
A note: I didn’t publish a newsletter last week, so this week you’re getting two! Here’s the first. Thanks for your patience :)
Dear Reader,
Two weeks ago, I grabbed coffee with Kate Sanner, the CEO of Beni. If you’re not already familiar with Beni, it’s an app and browser extension that helps shoppers “save, search, and shop smarter.”
Users can search for secondhand items and brands across resale sites, save their favorites, create collections, and even take a photo of a brand new item to find it (or something similar) secondhand.
Kate showed me Beni’s new interface and future features, and we talked a lot about shopping, the impact of influencers and affiliate programs on purchasing habits, and the challenges of building a closet you truly love.
What I like about Kate and her team’s approach to Beni is that they’re not trying to sell you MORE stuff, they’re trying to help you find the RIGHT stuff: items that are worth your money, will live a long life in your closet, and make getting dressed every morning easier and fun.
This quote from their About page sums it up well:
“Beni isn’t here to sell you more stuff. We’re here to help you find what’s worth it. The timeless pieces. The hidden gems. The ones that fill your life—not just your cart. We help you save, search, and shop smarter. Not for the algorithm. Not for the ads. For you.”
The team at Beni knows there are tons of people who want to shop secondhand. But when big brands own the digital ad space, and shopping on Poshmark or ebay feels like an experience that needs to be “hacked”, most shoppers will opt for convenience. That’s where Beni comes in.
I started this newsletter for many of the same reasons Kate and her co-founders started Beni. I want to help people shop better, smarter, and more sustainably. I think there’s a world of fun and creativity to be found outside of fast fashion, and that you shouldn’t have to be an expert to discover it.
I’ve spent the better part of the past 15 years thrifting. I know what to look for and where, how to read a fabric tag, and what items are #worthit. My conversation with Kate reminded me that so many shoppers are starting from a much different place than I am.
Before we go further, a little backstory.
Ferragamo flats and a $2 hoodie
Thrifting and vintage shopping are undoubtedly much more mainstream than 15 years ago.
The proliferation of Depop and Poshmark, a cultural pushback against fast fashion, thrift hauls on TikTok, and vintage-obsessed influencers have shown us that it’s possible to look good, like really good, shopping secondhand. On my visits to Goodwill or Savers, the floor is consistently populated by groups of fashionable teens.
But when and where I was growing up—1993 to 2011, the South Shore of Massachusetts—secondhand shopping was not considered cool. No one I knew shopped at Goodwill. If they did, they didn’t talk about it, and they certainly didn’t post about it.
But my mom is the OG thrift queen. As a teenager in the 1970s she prided herself on being, in her own words, “impeccably dressed for a dollar or less.” And she turned her love of vintage clothing into a career, getting a master’s in textile history from the University of Wisconsin Madison, working in restoration departments at museums, and going on to found a successful textile and furniture sales business for hotel interiors.
Needless to say, she knows how to thrift. She has both “the eye” and an encyclopedic knowledge of fabrics. And although I spent most of my childhood and teen years begging for another polo to layer over another lace cami, every once in a while, she’d try to show me the magic of secondhand shopping.
On a trip to Martha’s Vineyard, the summer before 6th grade, we stumbled into a charity shop just a block off Circuit Ave. The store was dark, dusty, and filled with treasures. One ferry ride and two weeks later, I arrived at the first day of middle school in head-to-toe vintage: a floral skirt, an oversized Salvation Army t-shirt, a strand of fake pearls, and, my prized find, a pair of snakeskin Ferragamo flats.
I felt like a style icon (I would wear this outfit today!) until I realized I did not fit in. And I desperately wanted to fit in. Goodbye soft florals and white snakeskin, hello tall chestnut Uggs and denim minis.
Flash forward to the summer before eighth grade. This time, we’re at our local Goodwill. I remember the exact moment I found it: a pink, velour Victoria's Secret zip-up hoodie and the beauty of a secondhand deal.
If you’re a millennial like me, you might understand what a find this was. For a girl who never owned a pair of Pink-branded pants (or anything with a word on the butt) or a Juicy Velour tracksuit (still on my wish list), this was like discovering a Birkin bag in a free shit bin on the street.
So that fall, when a girl on my field hockey team complimented my latest find, I had to let her in on my secret: it was only $2 from Goodwill.
Her face fell.
“Oh,” She said, “I wouldn’t tell people that. They might think you’re poor.”
“Right,” I said, and shoved the sweatshirt to the back of my closet when I got home.
There were other secondhand stories: a brown leather Coach bag for $5 that I still have today, a yellow peacoat with big wool buttons that never left the downstairs coat closet, a wrap skirt I proudly wore at camp but not in “real life”.
No matter what I found, it was swiftly discarded for something that made me feel cool by other people’s standards, that promised a level of social security my own unique style did not.
What changed?
Well, I became a tiny bit less insecure. That wasn’t difficult—it’s harder to be more insecure than a 13-year-old girl. There was also the internet: Tumblr, Lookbook, and even friends of a friend's Facebook profiles, which exposed me to a whole world of everyday fashion outside of Abercrombie and American Eagle.
But it was one store, one amazing secondhand shopping experience, that I’d like to credit with changing my closet forever.
Secondhand culture shock
Dollar a Pound (now By the Pound #inflation) in Cambridge, MA, is less of a store and more of a corner, a small section of the larger Garment District—also not a district but a two story brick building near M.I.T.
Each week, the team at By The Pound puts out 850 pounds of clothing for the public to sift through. Shoppers grab a plastic bag, step into a mound of textiles calf high, and start searching. Purchases are weighed at the end. The cost is self-explanatory.
Like most thrifting experiences, the total crap sits side-by-side with hidden gems: a knee length fur coat, a 50s house dress, 100% linen button down shirts, cashmere robes, leather purses, silk scarves…there are treasures to be found if you’re willing to literally dig. And at 16, I found them.
After a successful first trip to By the Pound with who else, my mom, I had to tell my friends. We all loved to shop. We all loved a deal. Why wouldn’t they also love the glorious good times of finding an outfit at Dollar a Pound?
Well, they didn’t. If I remember correctly, they were pretty grossed out. One friend was afraid she’d get lice. Another just found it dirty. It didn’t stop me, but I also couldn’t understand their perspective. By the Pound was AMAZING. You could get a whole new wardrobe for less than $10. So what if it felt “dirty”? That’s what laundry machines and hand soap are for.
Last week, I thought about their reactions for the first time in a long time. And now I understand: going from the racks of Urban Outfitters and Francesca’s—iykyk—to a pile of clothes on the floor might have been a bit of a culture shock.
Because if you’re accustomed to rows of sparkling, clean garments, thrifting can feel as foreign as a trip abroad. You’re used to finding the exact item you want, in your size, with fast shipping, and free returns. Even if you want to find great deals and shop sustainably, it doesn’t feel worth the time or trouble. Goodwill or Poshmark might as well be a pile of clothes on the floor in a strange building in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
My guide to secondhand shopping
I had a long journey and a lot of help to becoming an expert secondhand shopper. But if you want to start thrifting, you don’t have to endure middle school insecurity, borrow my mom, or dig through a literal tonne of clothes at By the Pound. Instead, over the next few weeks, I’ll be publishing a multi-part series with everything I know about thrifting, and how you can use it to become a seasoned secondhand shopper yourself.
Introducing: So, you want to shop secondhand?
Over the course of several newsletters, I’ll cover everything I think you need to know about thrift and vintage shopping, like:
💡 The basics: The different types of secondhand stores and their purposes, how to prepare for a thrift trip, and how to make the experience fun, easy, and creatively fulfilling
❇️ Secondhand tech and tools: A breakdown of the most popular resale sites and fashion tech tools, which one you should use for which occasion, and how to make the most from them
🔍 Finding quality garments: How to evaluate an item of clothing for quality, which brands and fabrics to look for, and how to make smarter purchases
✍️ Expert tips: Advice from other seasoned thrift and vintage shoppers
Is there anything you’d like to see included? Burning questions you have about thrifting? Obstacles you frequently encounter? Let me know in the comments. Part one will drop in June!