In 1941, the British government introduced clothing rationing, followed by its “Make do and mend” campaign, encouraging people to repair worn clothes, alter what they had and put old textiles to new uses. In wartime, wasting clothing was simply not an option.
Back then, the problem was scarcity. Today, it is abundance. Clothes have become cheaper, faster to produce and easier to discard, creating a different problem: far too much of a supposedly disposable thing.
The ugly side of fashion
The numbers are sobering. The UN estimates that 92Mt of textile waste is generated every year. Fashion accounts for 2%–8% of global greenhouse gas emissions and 9% of ocean microplastic pollution and consumes 215-trillion litres of water annually.
You’ve probably seen the images from Ghana. If not, go and look. Around Accra’s coastline and waterways, mountains of discarded clothing wash ashore, much of it arriving as second-hand imports from the Global North. Greenpeace estimates that 15-million garments enter Ghana every week, with nearly half considered unsellable.
We’re making more, buying more, wearing it less and leaving someone else to deal with the consequences.
Shein and Temu may have millions of customers, but ultra-cheap fashion raises questions around environmental impact, labour practices and the effect of cheap imports on local industries.
It’s easy then to say just buy local. And we’d agree, where possible. But for many South Africans, clothing from small local labels simply isn’t affordable. Ethical shopping shouldn’t be a luxury available only to those who can afford it.
There is some middle ground. Major retailers such as TFG, Mr Price, Pick n Pay Clothing and Checkers’ Uniq source or produce some clothing in South Africa and the SADC region. Local doesn’t automatically mean sustainable or ethical, but choosing locally made when you can supports manufacturing and jobs.
Keep it in circulation
Perhaps the wartime Brits were on to something. One of the simplest ways to reduce fashion’s footprint is to keep clothes in use for longer. Research by UK-based environmental NGO WRAP found that for every five pre-loved items bought, around three replace a new purchase. Repair is even more effective: four out of five repaired garments displace something new.
But enough doom and gloom. As Macklemore declared in his 2012 ode to the thrift shop, “I wear your granddad’s clothes, I look incredible”. Beyond the environmental argument, there’s also the thrill of hunting for a bargain and coming up trumps. Two-thirds of my wardrobe is second-hand, swapped, inherited or altered, and the delight of finding a new pre-loved item has not abated.
Jacquie Myburgh Chemaly, editor and co-founder of Vintage with Love, which sells pre-loved fashion to raise funds for literacy charities, has watched attitudes to second-hand clothing change considerably since starting it with Leigh Ord 13 years ago. In that time, the organisation has raised more than R10m.
“More and more, thrifting is becoming a fashion statement,” she says. “If you want to be a bit different, if you want to put your own character into your style, thrifting gives you the perfect opportunity to find something no-one else has.”
There are plenty of places to hunt. At the less polished end of the second-hand economy are informal markets found across South Africa and elsewhere on the continent, where imported clothing is often bought in bales and sold from stalls and piles. Joburg’s best-known example is Dunusa, the decades-old inner-city market whose name comes from the isiZulu for bending down — a reference to the rummaging required. Long a source of affordable clothing, it’s also a hunting ground for stylists, fashion students and vintage resellers. Recent law-enforcement action has disrupted parts of the market, but Dunusa remains an important part of Joburg’s second-hand story.
Charity shops are another great source, selling donated clothing to raise money for good causes. Those attached to retirement homes can be particularly good for well-preserved older pieces. For a more curated experience, Chic Mamas Do Care has shops in Cape Town, Joburg and Durban, while Vintage with Love has an online store and shops in Cape Town and Joburg.
Vintage stores specialise in pieces from previous eras, generally 20 years old or more. They’re not always cheap, but you’re paying for the sourcing, curation and chance of finding something special. Markets are worth a rummage too, from the Linden Market and weekly Linden boot sale in Joburg to Cape Town’s long-running Milnerton Flea Market.
Skip shopping altogether and swap with friends and family. What’s old news in someone else’s wardrobe can feel entirely new in yours. Hand-me-downs are particularly good for children, who have an inconvenient habit of outgrowing perfectly good clothes at speed.
Different names, different price points, same basic idea: keeping good clothes in circulation.
Rules of the rail
Keen to embrace a second-life mentality? Here are some handy pointers.
First, forget the size on the label. Sizing varies wildly between brands, countries and decades, so look instead for fabric, colour, pattern and quality. Try bigger or smaller than your usual size and shop the garment, not the department. The men’s section, or vice versa, can yield some of the best finds. Dress for the job too: thrifting in slim-fitting clothes makes it much easier to try things on when there’s no fitting room.
Go often and keep an open mind: stock changes constantly. And because much second-hand clothing comes from overseas, you can stumble across things rarely found in South African shops. Earlier this year, I kitted myself out for a ski trip almost entirely from Joburg thrift shops. I nabbed proper ski jackets and cold-weather gear for a fraction of the price of new goods.
Inspect the unglamorous bits: zips, seams, linings, stains and moth holes. Give it the sniff test. But learn to see potential. A missing button, wrong hem or small stain needn’t be a dealbreaker. Factor the fix into the price: dry cleaning or a tailor can turn a bargain into something brilliant. I once found a beautiful military jacket with mismatched gold buttons, sourced replacements, moved a few around and now wear it constantly. Know when to walk away, though. Some damage simply isn’t worth the effort. And whatever you buy, wash it before it joins the wardrobe.
Hope to find the genuinely unexpected. “More often than not you can find something that comes from a little boutique in Italy or that someone had made by a dressmaker or designer years ago,” says Myburgh Chemaly.
Certain things are particularly good second-hand buys. Coats and jackets are hard to beat. Wool, tweed, proper tailoring, vintage cuts and the occasional designer label are not uncommon. Athletic wear is another surprising favourite. T-shirts, sweatshirts and tracksuit tops come with great graphics, odd logos and foreign-language lettering, while I have a weakness for 1980s parachute tracksuits.
Start with accessories. It’s easy to find distinctive vintage scarves, hats, bags, belts and jewellery. Hats are particularly good hunting, with plenty around from a time when people actually wore them.
Rummaging has its limits. I once found myself thrifting next to a mouse who seemed less pest than fellow shopper. It felt rather like a children’s book, but understandably, that isn’t for everyone.
If your preferred hunt involves a sofa rather than a rodent, South Africa has excellent thrift sellers on Instagram, while resale platforms such as Yaga offer everything from everyday bargains to designer pieces, usually with measurements provided.
Finally, remember the rule my grandmother lived by: nothing’s cheap that you don’t need. Is it your style? Will you actually wear it? Is there even a gap in your cupboard? It’s a trap I still fall into.
And when you’re finished with something, keep it moving. Sell it, swap it or, if you can, donate it to a charity shop. Just don’t donate rubbish. The point is to give good clothes another life, not to make somebody else responsible for throwing them away.
