Threads of Generosity: How do people navigate second-hand trade?

Cover Picture: The front of the Charity Shop. Photo taken by author

By Adair Egan

The startling reality of living in a predominantly-student building lies in the mail room. There is an abundance of fast fashion packages. The brands sometimes change, but it is constant. There are stacks of cardboard boxes wrapped in cello tape. An overflowing amount of different size postal bags lies on top of the boxes and on the floor. Sometimes statements like 'I'm eco-friendly', 'Hey! I'm a 100% recycled mailer', or 'I am made from plants not plastic' are printed atop. While, brand names and logos are most identifiable, namely Zara, Shein, Boohoo, and ASOS. This exposure brought me to think about the afterlife of these clothes. I was particularly interested in the institutions involved in shaping such an afterlife. How are garments recycled into our society? What happens to the clothes that are not sold? These were the key questions that steered me to pursue my research at a charity shop.

In mid-January 2023, the manager of Oxfam’s charity shop in Camden, Daniel, kindly gave me consent to take on a vacant volunteer position as a researcher. I was fortunate to develop close relationships with people that enjoyed telling stories and narrating their thought processes. I am using pseudonyms to maintain anonymity.

The shop is in a 3-story brick building that characterizes British local high streets. The shop, which inside resembles a boutique, is predominantly women's clothes, devoting one or two racks to men's clothes depending on the week. The till is angled toward the front door, over which a CCTV screen records the entirety of the shop floor. A door in the back opens onto narrow stairs reaching what Daniel calls his office. The floor caters to sorting, hanging, pricing, steaming, and storing clothes. A handmade wooden structure acts as two crates. One is named donations, and the other is CTR. CTR Group collects all waste, notably clothes, from Oxfams across London and aims to maximize the possibility of recycling and reusing such 'waste'. "We put everything we can't or don't sell into here and they take it twice a week," Daniel tells me. At this point, he had answered a key question of mine in a few words. I decided to direct my attention away from recycling processes and focus on second-hand trade and the people involved in these exchanges.

Who is involved in the circular economy? What is sustainable about the charity shop? How do people navigate second-hand trade? The vibrant personalities at Oxfam Shop Camden were the reason I was able to steer my research project toward how different people perceive acts of helping and gifting. These ideas came to be central to how people navigated working and shopping in the charity shop.

A picture of the shop’s interior. Photo taken by author.

The charity shop: a social organisation

I stood at a large table sorting clothes beside Daniel's desk on my first shift. He had ripped open eight plastic bags and let the clothes spill out of them onto the table, emitting a distinct, yet undiscernible smell. I was slow to sort through the pile as I was fixated on looking for holes, broken zippers, and noticeable stains. I approached this process with the point of view of maximizing what we could keep from the donations. To my surprise, this was not the case. Often, I would hold up a garment and ask for Daniel's opinion; sometimes, he was quick to react with a disgusted facial expression and respond with 'that's awful', 'who would buy that to begin', and 'bin it'. To bin an article of clothing referred to putting it in a bag inside the CTR bin, to be collected and recycled. Further, brands like Primark and Shein were quickly bagged and given to CTR. Daniel did not want to sell clothes that would fall apart while on the clothes hanger, in his words. Indeed, many individuals' donations were fast fashion garments; fast fashion refers to cheaply made clothing that enables customers to change their wardrobes often and affordably. This reality brought me to question the charity shop's function in shaping a sustainable society. The shop does not keep a prominent number of donated clothes, whereas it allows individuals to essentially 'offload' their waste, while considering themselves 'sustainable'. 

Moreover, the curatorial process was heavily influenced by personal style and opinions. 'If you wouldn't wear it and if you wouldn't give it to your mom or sister as a gift then you should toss it': this statement challenged my conception of the charity shop. Indeed, volunteers were trained to look out for recognizable brands, while avoiding 'awful cuts' and 'tacky patterns'. While working in the colder months, I witnessed several sweaters quickly thrown into the recycling bags, due to subjectively unattractive colors and cuts. The sorting process materialized as fault-finding. While also, the use of language related to tossing, trashing, and throwing out clothes was prevalent. Is this perpetuating a throw-away society rather than a sustainable one? The charity shop keeps clothes from landfills, through selling such garments on the shop floor or in collaboration with a textile collector from CTR. Sustainability at the charity shop remains contested. The sorting process embodies unsustainable practices as clothes intersect with personal style and fashion trends.

The charity shop is tailored to the community that engages with it. The shop provides affordable clothes and goods to the community living in Camden. The prices of clothes are lower than many leading cheap fast fashion brands and high street chain stores. Indeed, most clothes are priced between £2 and £12.99; sometimes a nice blazer or items that are normally more expensive would be more expensive. Daniel mentioned that anything that was priced too high would not sell quickly or get stolen. The long-term volunteers had not noticed prices change in the shop as London faces rising rates of inflation and a cost-of-living crisis. The shop reflects the community around it. Daniel's familiarity with the people that came in every day was reflected in the way clothes were priced. He was conscious of heavy drug use in the area. Indeed, he deemed it likely that a lot of people spent much of their money on drugs, while still needing a winter coat. This reality framed a pertinent tension of distinguishing necessity and desire. On a cold February day, Russell and I were running the shop floor. I was handling the till and he leaned beside the counter telling me about his travels. He interrupted himself and calmly walked to the door. He stopped in front of the shop windows in discussion with another man. The man he had followed out had stolen a coat from the men's section. There was a distinct tranquility to their conversation:

"I can't let you go with that."

"But I want it."

"Come back in and I'll give you a different one."

Upon returning inside, Russell repositioned himself against the counter and expressed a slight irritation towards the man's attempt to take a £20 coat, when there were cheaper ones on the rack. The calmness toward theft was depictive of the complex social dynamics that make up the charity shop. The charity shop's function is responsive to the community's engagement. Indeed, the way the shop is curated reflects the social landscape. The shop is a multidimensional site granting affordability and accessibility, while also continuously adapting to the local community.

Motivations for volunteering

The altruistic perception of volunteers is contradictory to the individualistic reality that embodies volunteering at Oxfam Shop in Camden. This is not to say that the volunteers are selfish, instead, acknowledging this further frames the charity shop as a multifaceted site. Indeed, the space is a gallery of independent endeavor. The ways in which the volunteers conceptualized their involvement with the charity shop varied, as they differently stressed in their behaviours feelings of circularity, momentariness, and attachment. There were about nine volunteers consistently on the weekly schedule; some would commit to as many shifts as they could short-term, while others came in once or twice a week. The application process was simple, and no background or visa check was conducted. The diversity in reason for volunteering corresponded to learning English, completing work experience, and seeking a routine amid life changing. This reality gives shape to the structure of a circular system, in which the charity shop both contributes to and receives from the community. Nina and Nathalie were working at the shop to learn English while living with friends short term. From small towns in Belgium, they were in their early twenties, and both eagerly expressed being in London for the first time. The shop was a site of cultural immersion. Their involvement was temporary, while giving them the opportunity to practice their English language skills. This theme of momentariness was reflected further by Jade and Victoria, who were friends from Shanghai. They were pursuing a degree at a nearby university; part of their degree requires them to pursue fifty hours of work experience. They came to Oxfam's shop because their other option would have been a teaching position in English, to which Jade laughed at upon telling me. "I can't teach. I cannot talk in English. This is easy. You don't need to know English." The temporary nature of volunteering at the shop allows for volunteers to make gestures and continuously ask for help. There are few expectations put on unpaid volunteers dealing with donated goods. It provides a space for opportunity and, just as much, for error.

On the other hand, the ongoing involvement of some volunteers, including Rin and Tara, shaped the charity shop as a site of stability. Rin, a woman in her thirties, embodied the role of Daniel's assistant in the shop. She had been working with him most shifts for three years. She did not speak much English, but she was strongly involved in the functioning of the shop. She expressed herself through her meticulous care for the shop floor. She told me she could not remember why she started volunteering because it had been so long. This stood out to me as a strong attachment to the shop. Indeed, the shop materialized as a personal project of hers; she knew where everything was, and consistently kept the space to her admiration. Daniel would run ideas by her before carrying out any changes to the shop. A sense of routine and familiarity shaped her involvement. Another volunteer, Tara, found routine in coming into the shop every week. She had been working as a volunteer for over a year. She expressed a sense of comfort in volunteering. "There've been a lot of changes since A-Levels and starting uni. I don't know, I like coming in here," she told me. While conducting my research, she started working a part time job at & Other Stories. We would work together every week, and I observed her as she became increasingly overwhelmed by her commitments and struggling to balance her university workload. During a shift, she expressed the need to take on another shift at her job as she was short of money, to which I asked her if she was considering taking time off from the shop. "I hadn't thought of that," she answered with emphasis. This was reflective of what the shop meant to her; it acted as a sanctuary outside chaos and life changes. Volunteering at the charity incorporates diversity and complexity in underlying motivations. It goes beyond the altruistic perception. The ways volunteers conceptualize their involvement and experiences reflect individual projects and a sense of routine. Oxfam Shop Camden is a site in which themes of momentariness and attachment are prevalent. It is this that gives shape to its circular nature: receiving from and giving to surrounding people.

A picture of the shop’s interior. Photo taken by author.

Blurry exchanges

I came to see the dichotomy between gift and market exchange dissolve. Through the lens of Marcel Mauss' theories in The Gift, I started realising that the charity shop is built and sustained around the concept of gifting. The charity shop blurs the line between gift and commodity.

I worked alongside Russell most weeks. He was in his mid 70s and lived between Jamaica and the United Kingdom most of his life. Two decades ago, he followed his favorite beats to Brazil after a high blood pressure diagnosis. He would spend as much time there as he could on a tourist visa and book his flight returning to Brazil the moment his travel days in the country renewed. He came to Oxfam when his travels slowed:

Russell: "I'm not going to keep living the way I've been living, so I got on a plane to Brazil. And lucky enough the people already knew me."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Russell: "They knew me because they knew who I was in my past life."

He offered a distinct perspective on navigating second-hand trade. Indeed, Russell’s strong belief in past lives shaped how he lived his current life. In his past life, he was a Preto Velho, which is Portuguese for 'old black'. He expressed that he carried the soul of past Brazilian slaves. Pretos Velhos were a generation of older slaves that were freed under Brazilian law due to their age. They gained a reputation of being wise as their elderliness enabled them to recall, and preserve traditional African spirituality.

Russell embodied a gift in a sense. The charity shop materializes as a site to connect with the local community, and Russell's involvement serves as a prevalent example. He lived through clothes; I received a detailed account of the places in which he had come across the clothes he was wearing, and the ways in which he was connected to time and space through their materiality. Indeed, he was connected to the spirits of different decades through vintage jewelry made of varied materials, namely metal and wood. While also, it was through clothes he interacted with people, from the point of view of a history of wear weaved into them, or simply because interesting clothes led to conversations. He told me he did not want new things. He wanted things with stories. He expressed that that was what was captivating about pre-worn clothes: they are gifts. Further, he wanted to be around clothes and young people. He saw his function in life as a teacher. Not in its an academic sense, but instead in the form of one who freely teaches people around them. His mission was to tell the stories of the past and teach young people about the value of living one day at a time, similar to a Preto Velho. He never told me if he was able perform his function, but he appreciated having his lunch reimbursed by Oxfam. He said that he spent no money during the week and could live off the £6 lunch limit implemented by Oxfam. Is this what he gets in return? This complexifies the dichotomy between gift and commodity in the charity shop.

To expand, the shop receives donations as a gift, as there is no expectation of anything in return. The shop offers these goods to the community at low costs; I employ offer to underline this dichotomous essence, as what was once a gift becomes a commodity. In turn, the monetary value of these goods rematerializes as a gift to support the charity. Through Mauss, we know that gifting serves as the foundation of human solidarity (Mauss, 2001). Gift exchange is inherently tied to reciprocity, and it is this that distinguishes itself from market exchanges. Gifting is productive of social relations as there is a form of obligation to return, and maintain, such relation, related to receiving a gift. As for market exchanges, this embodies the exchange of commodities, in which reciprocity is out of the frame. Instead, commodities are exchanged in relation to other commodities. When we examine the charity shop, this dichotomy dissolves. The charity shop is founded on curating a connection between people along the lines of helping others. A photograph of Oxfam humanitarian projects is printed on the back side of price tags. To illustrate, the batch of tags in the shop depicted a young girl standing beside a bicycle, Malawi printed across the bottom. This referred to Oxfam's 20-year project to improve livelihood among youth in Malawi. This is intended to hold an effect on guiding customers to consider helping and gifting, rather than solely purchasing. By this, the charity shop obscures the difference between gift and market exchange. Gifts become commodities, and commodities are rematerialized into gifts to support Oxfam. How do we then understand monetary gifts? I came to see the charity shop as a site in which gifts and commodities confront each other. The charity shop redefines exchange in the context of circularity. From this point of view, second-hand trade is interwoven with ideas of reciprocity and value.

Bibliography

Mauss, M 2001, Gift, The: Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies, Taylor & Francis Group, Milton. Available at: ProQuest Ebook Central.