Let us be so for real for a second. Sorry, but when it comes to America, I fear we are not very original.
Even hot dogs, THE signature food of this great land, were invented by the Germans (NHDSC). That is the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council located in Washington, DC if anyone was wondering or wanting to fact-check me. Anyway, my point is we do not have much under our belt – and please for the sake of my article, I am aware of the telephone and the light bulb and all those good things ok. Technically, those inventors were not actually American, so … it is a fashion article, not the history channel, so moving on.
About a month ago, I had the pleasure of visiting my two dear cousins in the beautiful country of England. We mainly spent our time in Brighton, a funky little town that looks over the Atlantic Ocean. What do three young people do in a town known as the official gay capital of the UK? We thrift of course (the gay capital thing has nothing to do with it, but I thought that was a fun fact).
Now I must credit my dear cousin for this article. They brought me to a few places the very first day in town, and ever since then, I have wanted to write something about it. Our first stop on my tour around the town was a good old thrift shop. Graffiti covered the outside of the building. It was cool, the kind of place that grabs your attention. Double glass doors opened onto a sea of baggy fabric. Ripped up flannels sewn back together in various patterns and colors, more baggy jeans than I had ever seen in my life hung limply to the floor, and trucker hats made in camo and dirtied leather patterns. It was glorious.
That was all we did the first two days of my visit. Thrift after thrift, ducking in and out of brightly decorated crooked little shops, carrying equally as funky bags piling over with quilted t-shirts and studded belts. It was pretty cool the first few times walking into those stores. Slowly, though, as the days went on, I started to realize that something was a little odd.
All of the jeans’ waistbands fit me perfectly. The t-shirts I had spent almost an hour deciding over started to all look the same. We started passing those funky eye-catching shops, already knowing what was inside. The realization was slower than I would care to admit, but strong when it finally came. Every single one of those fabulous shops had the same tattered jacket, the same bedazzled shirt, and the same freaking (school newspaper you must remember) baggy jeans. Naturally, as one is at these kinds of realizations, I was pissed. So, to soothe my temper, my cousins took me to one of Great Britain’s very own and very darling consignment shops.
Upon first glance, it was exactly what you would think when hearing the words thrift shop. Goodwill, Buffalo Exchange, little British consignment shop are all synonyms. It was nice inside. A sweet old woman was manning the register. Further through the clothes, more old women could be seen sitting through sweaters and trying on dresses. I came away with two things that day: an adorable stuffed bear with a red London shirt and another smaller ceramic bear with no shirt. These consignment shops, probably the true idea of a thrift, were nothing like they are in America. In simple terms, my grandmother would shop there.
The grand conclusion I have made from my time shopping in the United Kingdom is that they have not mastered the ideology of a thrift store. Tiny little consignment shops filled with antiques are charming, but will not prove useful to anybody under the age of 65. And the sparkling graffiti-covered “thrift” shops are unfortunately posing as authentic; the oversized look that has become so popular in the past two years is manufactured, and the graphic T-shirts are coming in bulk.
Shopping in America has become a sport. Finding the perfect pair of jeans in the men’s section that are ridiculously too big but somehow look cool when you put them on, that perfect tank top that may or may not be Shein with the tag ripped off, the pair of sneakers that are kind of grandma-ish, but fit just right in with your collection. These are found in an American thrift, something that we have cultivated and created in an authentic way. They capture the aesthetic and trends of your Pinterest boards while understanding the ethics of low prices and upcycled goods.
What I found in England was good, no doubt about that, but I fear the lack of authenticity ruined it for me. The genuine stains of paint on a hoodie and the tatters of a jacket from someone’s dad who actually worked in it gives my findings a life. Though this might seem silly to most, those who do enjoy the art of upcycling understand that the idea of a thrift is not a trend. It is a way to keep fashion interesting and alive. History is built into the bones of the clothes we wear. Unfortunately, traveling into shops across the seas just did not carry that same weight. It is a bit ironic since England is famously old, but hey, I guess it is our turn to be the original this time.
I guess if you want to take a message out of this and are looking for a life-changing story, then try some real old-fashioned thrifting, recycle your old clothes into something new, and if you only go to one thrift store in the UK, you have been in them all.
P.S. No hate, I love England.
Mwah – T