The term ‘influencer’ has sort of lost its meaning. That’s not to say that influencers have strayed from their objective, but as is characteristic of words, specifically those thrown around relentlessly in popular culture, it has become vague. It seems the online community has collectively evaded that which separates influencers from celebrities, the deliberate distinction between the moniker ‘influencer’ and some other unchosen ‘social mediator’ or ‘internetista.’ The influencer’s job is, shockingly, to influence. Entertainment is an added bonus. What pays the bills is persuasion, encouraging followers to make designed decisions, typically the decision to purchase something.
There are endless breeds of influencers dictating the social media landscape — restaurant recommenders, book sellers, makeup artists, style savants — and though many of them raise red flags, it would be pointless and repetitive to rant into the void about my general frustrations with social media’s greedy foundations. Today, I will express my grievances with one specific subculture that I have dubbed the ‘thrift-fluencers’
They typically appear before the backdrop of a Goodwill or Salvation Army, or some other local thrift shop, brandishing their unbelievable finds and throwing around the word ‘vintage’ like it doesn’t have a dictionary definition.
A quick aside.
Remember the app Flip? Around October of 2023, there was short-lived commotion about an app that gives you ‘free’ money to spend on real, trendy products. The catch? Once that sign-up bonus is spent, to earn more money you have to post product reviews. And to post product reviews, you have to buy products. Technically, you get free shit, but at the cost of having to actually own a fuck-ton of shit you don’t need and tell everyone else to buy it.
This resembles the work of an influencer. To make money, you need followers, and to gain followers, you have to post consistent content. So if your content is thrifting, you have to go to the thrift store a lot.
Something about perpetuating this cycle of overconsumption with second-hand shopping as the subject matter doesn’t sit right with me. I’m sure it wasn’t the goal of most thrift-fluencers to promote a binge-like approach to shopping. In fact, I bet it was the opposite. But regardless of intention, to keep the followers, likes, and comments coming, they have to keep thrifting.
Sure, you could argue that shopping excessively from a thrift store is better than shopping excessively from a fast-fashion retailer. Maybe I’d agree. But I’m not here to compare the merits of Goodwill versus Urban Outfitters. What’s better than shopping excessively is not shopping excessively. That is the harsh truth. An indisputable fact. On an individual level, the problem with shopping isn’t where you shop, but how you shop. And I have a problem with people who preach the second-hand gospel while consuming like it’s their full-time job (because it is).
Hypocrisy aside, thrift-fluencers advertise unrealistic thrifting experiences. Contrary to what their content reveals, it’s not guaranteed you’ll strike out at your local Salvation Army with $25 Frye Campus boots or a mistakenly underpriced authentic Coach purse. This offers false hope to many who plan to use thrift stores as their first point of action before running to the full-priced retail stores. It shrouds the complex process of thrifting, which takes time, energy, patience, and open-mindedness. It’s often not easy or glamorous. It’s hours of swiping through dusty clothing racks filled with itchy sweaters that haven’t been washed since before they were moved from their hangers to a trash bag in the garage.
I will admit that not all thrift-fluencers are equal. There are many second-hand shoppers that I follow who, in my opinion, succeed in promoting thrifting as a means of discovering personal style, or who thrift for the purpose of upcycling, or who shop intentionally for their curated vintage stores. I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about people who fill multiple huge plastic bags (like seriously bring a fucking tote) with ‘vintage’ Brandy Melville and Free people to either hoard or resell at a higher price.
This brings me to my next point, which might be controversial. I’ve noticed a subculture of ‘thrift-fluencers’ that have this, dare I say, sorority-girl energy. I guess this comes with the territory of something becoming popular — what was once the stomping grounds of a more indie culture (and of course people who thrift for financial reasons) has opened its doors to the mainstream. People are posting hauls littered with pre-worn Edikted, Zara, H&M, etcetera. And the issue isn’t that they’re buying these things, but that they’re proudly encouraging others to do the same.
These pieces aren’t made of high quality, long-lasting fabrics nor are they representative of timeless styles — both of which are easy to find at thrift stores when you know what brands and textiles to look for. In actuality, these second-hand fast-fashion purchases are more dangerous because (a) low-quality pieces that have already been worn and washed will deteriorate faster and (b) low prices lead to more impulsive purchases and, subsequently, impermanence. You know what feels worse than donating something you never wore? Bringing something you bought at Goodwill back after you never wore it.
So forgive me if I’m out of place, but I think if you are going to base your internet persona on ‘sustainable shopping,’ either do it in a way that’s actually sustainable or don’t do it at all.
Great stuff