My Secondhand Year

When I first started this no-shopping experiment and writing this blog, I imagined also doing a massive closet purge. I imagined a gorgeously merchandised closet with actual air between hangers and floor space that isn’t covered with random shoes and stacks of jeans that don’t fit into any drawer. Just like with New Year’s resolutions, I had immense faith in my awesomely motivated future self to make this happen. Well, to date said future self has not purged, or at least not very much.

One the reasons for that is valid: I’m using this year of not buying anything new to see what clothes I actually wear. I figure that if I don’t wear something for an entire year of not shopping, that item probably needs to go. Plus, I’ve been surprising myself in terms of what things I actually do pull out and pull on — in lieu of something new, I find new combinations of things I already own.

The other reason is of course I’m avoiding doing something hard. And I find letting go of things hard. (And yes, I’ve read Marie Kondo’s book and follow many minimalists on social media.) For one thing, I’m sentimental. I have sweaters that were my grandmother’s that I never wear but can’t seem to part with. I’m also an eternal optimist. As in, “Sure, those jeans haven’t fit me since dot.com bubble burst, but with my new workout regime, you never know…” Or maybe I’m just a hoarder? I often will pull something out that I haven’t worn in ages and think something along the lines of, “What if I get invited to a garden party (insert: hoedown/masquerade/high-level business meeting)?” The thought of having nothing to wear to one of those highly likely events will cause me to shove the item back on the rack.

But all this is not to say that I don’t have experience and insights on the different ways of getting rid of your unwanted clothing. So here’s a little primer on the pros and cons of the most common options.

For when you just want it gone: Unless you have an organization you already donate to, I recommend Goodwill for anything that’s slightly out of style or noticably worn. While Goodwill will take anything (I mean, you just drop it off), they can’t actually sell everything. So don’t use your Goodwill runs as trash dumps. If something is super stained or treadbare, consider a textile recycling program (google one in your area) to keep your stuff from being part of the “85% of used clothing ends up in landfills” problem. But if it’s too small or just something you (or your kids) no longer wear, Goodwill is great. Not only does Goodwill provide a place for people with lower incomes (and my thrifting-obsessed son) to shop, it also provides employment to people such as veterans and others who face employment challenges.

For your nice stuff: I’ve tried two options for my “nicer” things: The Real Real and local high-end consignment stores. This is just my experience, but The Real Real sold my Missoni dress for forty bucks, of which I think I got $18 or something. It might be different if you have a Chanel bag or Gucci shoes to sell, but I didn’t think the payout was worth the effort (although I do think The Real Real is a GREAT place to buy designer clothes and bags; you just need to know what exactly you want). I’ve had better luck with our local consignment shop, which is called Common Threads. It’s not always easy to get an appointment, and yes they are picky about what they take. But I must say, they clearly know what they’re doing because almost everything they take of mine sells. Make sure to read the shop’s consignment criteria and the list of brands they accept (and don’t). You only get 50% of the sales price, but if you use your credit to purchase items in the store, it goes a little further. Plus it’s a super fun place to browse. Both of these options donate unsold items to charity (although, in both cases, you can request them back but it’s on you to remember to do that).

If you’re organized enough to sell online: Unlike The Real Real, which sends a consultant to your home to pick up your items and then posts them online to sell, Poshmark requires you to photograph and list your items yourself — and then pack and ship them when they sell. It’s not difficult, but you need to be prepared to store the items until they sell, and keep a stash of boxes and packing materials on hand. As with other consignment options, your income from sales can be used for purchases (Poshmark is my favorite place to buy jeans and shorts) or you can transfer your balance to your bank account. If I have something I’d like to sell, but it’s a brand the consignment store doesn’t take (like Banana Republic; I don’t understand why they won’t take that by the way), I can probably sell it on Poshmark. I like that I can set the price of my items, plus Poshmark only takes 20% commission, so you get to keep most of the sales price.

A couple specialty options:

First, check to see if you have a local chapter of Dress for Success, and if it’s accepting donations. This is a great option for career-type clothes you no longer wear, and I always mark my calendar for upcoming donation days (Aug. 12 if you’re in Denver).

ThreadUp: Created specifically to reduce fashion waste, ThreadUp is pretty amazing. You fill up a box or bag with your items and send it to them (they’ll send you a shipping label), and then they inspect the garments, photogrpah them, list them, and ship them to buyers. And then you get paid. How awesome is that? The catch is you have no control over the price your items will sell for, but they do offer a return service (meaning you can get unsold items back if you want them; otherwise they donate or recycle them) for $11. I just ordered my first “kit” from them, so I will let you know how it goes.

If anyone has favorite clothing-purge tips, I’d love to hear them!