Facing the charges against second-hand clothing resellers.

In the never-ending blame game that defines internet discourse, second-hand clothing resellers have found themselves cast as villains. Accused of driving up thrift prices, taking clothes from the needy, and “gentrifying” thrifting, resellers have become the target of anger and outrage. But if we’re serious about the sustainability crisis, about ethical consumerism, and about challenging systems that harm both people and the planet, it’s time we redirect our energy.

Let’s be clear: the real enemy isn’t your local vintage seller. It’s the system of disposable consumerism we’ve inherited—and the corporations profiting from it. This is not a new tactic. The plastics industry has been feeding us lies for decades to redirect blame away from corporate waste and unsustainable practices, placing the combined weight of responsibility and guilt on the consumer. Resellers are not the enemy. They are simply individuals making ends meet in an unforgiving economy. They might even be part of the solution. 

A History of Waste

The plastic industry, long aware that its products would only be profitable if made disposable, actively pushed for a culture of throwaway consumption. Plastic People, a 2025 documentary featured on the CBC’s The Nature of Things, explores how companies promoted plastic as a convenience revolution despite knowing its environmental cost. Fast forward to now, and microplastics have made their way into our bodies—our bloodstreams, reproductive organs, and most disturbingly, our brains.

The Myth of Scarcity

One of the loudest arguments against second-hand resellers is that they’re taking away affordable clothes from people who truly need them. This idea is demonstrably false. According to a 2023 study from the University of Waterloo, Canadians trash about a billion pounds—nearly 500 million kilograms of textiles each year. Approximately 85% of these textiles end up in landfills.

There is no scarcity. There is an overflow. The issue is not resellers taking away from those in need; it’s that our system produces far too much to begin with, and the quality of clothing is drastically dropping.

The Rise of For-Profit Thrift

While there is plenty of discussion regarding the ethics of individual resellers, the real threat lies in for-profit thrift chains, like Value Village. Companies like these receive free clothing through donations, only to turn around and price items based on online resale values.

Meanwhile, their CEOs rake in salaries far removed from the minimum-wage workers running their store floors. For example, the CEO of SAVERS VALUE VILLAGE INC, Mark Walsh, raked in over ten million dollars in 2023. These corporations are the ones gentrifying thrift culture, not the vintage enthusiast with a depop shop.

Fast Fashion and the Decline of Quality

Another reality is the sheer drop in the quality of today’s clothing. The dominance of fast fashion means many donations are cheap, poorly made garments that don’t last more than a few wears. This has made quality vintage pieces rarer and more valuable—not because of resellers, but because of industry-wide decline.

What’s disheartening is that many of these fast fashion items are produced under exploitative labour conditions, only to be worn a few times and tossed. Sustainability? It’s become a greenwashed buzzword, used by the same companies responsible for egregious environmental damage.

Who Gets to Profit?

Yes, reselling has grown more commercial. That means you are paying much more now than you would have five years ago at large for-profit thrift stores. However, it doesn’t have to be this way. Let us divert our donations away from corporations. Instead of sending your old clothes to Value Village, take them to the Salvation Army (a non-profit), or better yet, a local, community-run thrift store.

In some communities, aggressive bulk-buying can reduce access to affordable items, but these effects are localized and vastly overstated compared to the real forces driving price hikes: corporate thrift chains and systemic overproduction. Even those motivated purely by economics deserve understanding. In a world of stagnant wages and rising costs, side hustles are becoming increasingly essential. We live in a culture that shames people for needing extra income, then blames them when they find creative ways to get by.

Reselling as Resistance

Resellers often do more than simply flip clothes. They preserve fashion history, rescue quality items from the trash heap, and extend the life cycle of garments, providing consumers with unique pieces. In doing so, they participate in a circular economy. This form of sustainability is real, tangible, and community based.

While resellers don’t solve the problem of overconsumption, they do interrupt it by extending the life cycle of clothing, mitigating the need to perpetually purchase disposable clothing. It’s easy to blame individuals. It’s harder to confront the systems that make survival difficult and ethical choices nearly impossible. But if we’re going to talk about justice and fairness, let’s have the full conversation.

Let’s talk about how corporations weaponize guilt. How they tell us to bring reusable bags while they dump millions of tons of plastic into the oceans. How they sell us the fantasy of “ethical consumption” in a world where almost no choice is free from exploitation.

Resellers are not the problem. They’re a response to a broken system—and, in many ways, a small but powerful part of the solution.

The secondhand market isn’t just an alternative to fast fashion; it’s a community. Flea markets, vintage fairs and local thrifts aren’t just places to shop, they’re spaces for connection, creativity, and shared values.

So next time you feel the urge to refresh your wardrobe, think twice about filling your cart with fast fashion items that will disintegrate after a few washes. Visit your local vintage shop or attend a flea market. Ask the owner where their pieces came from and how they got started. Chances are, you’ll hear a story—about craftsmanship, nostalgia, or a lifelong love for the hunt—that no big box store could ever replicate.