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USED CLOTHES: Curse vs Dignity? By Rob Carr

Some 40 years ago, I was working as a Peace Corps Volunteer in rural Liberia. One of the first surprises I came across was huge piles of discarded, used, "donated" clothes from America that were for sale in markets in towns big and small. Nearly every town with a market had a corner designated for used clothes. 

One of my friends, Dominic, who lived in the next county over, had a knack for working with local entrepreneurs to come up with new ideas that needed very small seed money to get off the ground. One of the best ideas he came up with alongside a local market woman (it was her idea that she pitched to him—he secured the seed funds) was to move those huge piles of mismatched, wadded-up used clothes lying on the ground in the market and do something simple: wash them, hang them on hangers, sort them, and put them in a small shop. By charging just a few pennies more, this concept made the buyer feel special. The idea took away the indignity and tedium of wading through wadded-up bales of terrible clothes and made the experience of buying America's hand-me-downs more dignified. From what I recall, the idea really took off from just a bit of seed money. It was a novel change from many projects at the time.

Now, fast forward 40 years (!!). For me, this represents mostly four decades of living in countries that rely on used clothes markets for most of their basic clothing needs. More and more recently, I have seen a transformation that reminded me of what Dominic and his neighbor were doing in that small, dusty town in rural Liberia in 1986. Small, tidy shops with neatly hung used clothes can be found in most small towns across Africa, Asia, and here in the Balkans in Albania, where we sit for now.

A couple of weeks ago, my wife and I were in the lovely southeastern Albanian city of Korça. We wandered the streets, admiring their adherence to the old architecture and cobblestones. We sampled the exquisite bakeries, washing down flaky pies filled with spinach, feta, or tomato and onions with strong espresso. We admired the pristine "street dogs" lying in the shade of the city park. Their ears were tagged, meaning they had been vaccinated and "fixed," and they smiled at passersby, more often than not scoring a few pieces of kebab or feta pie. They were not fenced in or chained up—they roamed with dignity.

As we walked off our pastries, we came across a very tidy small shop and walked in. It had well-arranged used clothes on the racks, sorted by size, color, and gender. Almost everything was between 1 and 4 USD, and the brand-name selection was unmatched—all curated from bales of used clothes from America and Northern Europe. They had a fitting room, and the sales ladies were dignified and helpful. We got some great clothes for the gym, for date nights, and some hiking fleeces. We left with a large shopping bag full for less than 20 US dollars or so—hardly a dent in our pension!

On the other hand, we could have walked a half-mile to the open market to buy the same clothes, but that would have entailed visiting a dozen or so spots with mountains of used clothes lying in huge wads on tarps. Many were dirty or not even wearable, and the diamonds in the rough were few and far between, making it a two- to three-hour task. At times, we like to do that, and we recently had a lot of fun doing just that in a smaller town with a Sunday market day. However, after an hour in the sweltering heat, we withered a bit and had to pass for a cold beer. But we did get some good stuff and had lots of fun bartering.

However, we loved the tidy small shop experience even more, as did many others. During our spree in that tidy shop, we saw old pensioner grandmas buying clothes for their grandkids or picking out a spiffy shirt for their husbands, and a young mom with three kids in tow getting school clothes on a budget. It was lovely, clean, dignified, and a huge win for everyone. Thanks to my buddy Dominic, his neighbor, and thousands of entrepreneurs, that old idea from 40 or so years ago is alive, well, and expanding to all corners of this earth. It is living proof that simple, smart ideas endure the test of time and distance. And, of course, it keeps Western hand-me-downs out of the landfills for a few more years.

I know there is much controversy regarding the dumping of used clothes around the world and how this can undercut efforts to build up local clothes manufacturing. In a perfect world, it would be great to see these side by side. However, until the world becomes perfect—what is the harm of some dignity and a smile?

Comments

  1. The Mirage of Trendy Thrifting: How Rebranding Secondhand Clothing Excludes the Needy
    Until recently, makeshift makeshift markets were filled with used clothing sold for just a few cents. These informal spaces served as a final safety net of dignity for low-income families, allowing them to dress decently without sacrificing their food budget. Today, this landscape is transforming. Those very same clothes are now collected, sorted, washed, and carefully displayed in specialized boutiques or trendy thrift stores.
    To be sure, this professionalization has its benefits. It allows new entrepreneurs to generate a decent income, formalize a precarious trade, and reshape the image of secondhand fashion into something valued. But at what cost? Behind the attractive storefront of this new business model lies a harsh social reality: the exclusion of the poorest.
    By turning a basic necessity into a trendy consumer good, this trend deprives hundreds of people of the chance to find affordable items, or quite simply, to clothe themselves. What used to be a survival economy has become a profit-driven market. Prices are inflated disproportionately under the pretext of basic laundering or aesthetic curation, making these items completely unaffordable for their original audience.
    The ultimate balance sheet of this evolution is deeply flawed. For every few dozen vendors who manage to stabilize their income, hundreds of low-income families find themselves stripped of their only affordable resource. In attempting to clean up and modernize the sector, the problem has merely been shifted: we are helping a handful of economic players while marginalizing a multitude of consumers.
    Solidarity must not be selective. Upgrading the secondhand clothing market cannot come at the expense of social justice. We urgently need to rethink this model so that the pursuit of profitability does not confiscate the only alternative left for those who have nothing else.

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    1. Don’t overthink. I never heard about a shortage of second hand clothing.

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    2. Nowhere I have lived - 7 countries over 40 years on 4 continents - have these tiny shops where used clothes are cleaned up and sold on hangers - has this ripped the rug out from under the poor. the large open market with mountains of tangled up used clothes did not go away anywhere I lived. the huge market still existed - and people with lower budgets spent their precious time wading through the clothes to find stuff they could afford the small shops - which are not trendy shops for the rich ( I am not talking about charity shops in Sidney or London or Chicago) - I am talking small family run shops in Monrovia, Tirana, and Islamabad or for less poor people who want to shop with dignity. Dignity was my whole point here - why is that wrong?

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  2. Sent by Salima Haloui

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  3. This is a highly compelling article and outlines exactly the right approach. However, during my posting in Uganda, President Museveni publicly questioned the population, asking, "Do you want to wear a dead person's clothes?" His goal, of course, was to promote local manufacturing—even though very few, if any, local factories existed at the time.

    In a broader sense, I strongly advocate for textile recycling, especially since the fashion industry is a major polluter and a massive consumer of water, which is a scarce commodity in many nations. That said, it is vital to strike a balance by supporting local manufacturing to build self-reliance, provided the core focus remains on affordability.

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    1. Museveni was not alone: It is easy to condemn import of used clothes (or dumping) and much harder to incentivize the building of a factories to produce textiles (with a reliable and affordable source of power), threads, buttons and zippers and clothes design, assembly and distribution to points of sale via a reliable systems of roads.. Re-selling of used clothes is one measure to pursue while all the infrastructure is put in place - should be a bridge - but this goes back to governments being accountable to their own people. What has Museveni done to make all those things happen so the clothing industry can thrive?

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