Why Can't We Trust Our Own Taste Enough To Shop Secondhand?

Fall always feels like the highest stakes season when it comes to shopping for fashion, maybe as a latent form of back to school nostalgia that gets reactivated every year by retailers pushing alllll the new things we need to buy to be on-trend (you will spend all of your money on this sweater that’s actually last year’s sweater in a new color bwahahahahaha).

In the last month I’ve seen several chat threads trying to influence people on the best new things to purchase for fall and others trying to figure out what the viral items will be this fall to buy them before they sell out. The second one makes me slightly sadder because it means we’re acquiring things not necessarily because we like them, but because we want them for the image their trend virality projects. Buying clothes for a sense of belonging isn’t a new concept and it’s something I’ve done before. But seeing this written out jolts me into remembering how the hyperconsumption of rigidly following trends has sucked some of the joy out of fashion.

Instead of blindly buying new things because other people are wearing them, we should be thinking about the things we’ll be rewearing this fall because they speak to our personal style. The straight leg jeans you love haven’t magically become less cool since last autumn, that beautiful and expensive minimalist winter coat you wanted so badly in 2023 isn’t over because coats are erring on the maximalist side in 2026, and your red sweater is going to work just as well as a pop color today as it did when you bought it 12 months ago. You can still wear all of these things and look incredibly stylish instead of buying the slightly different new thing trending this season that will be ousted by the slightly different new thing trending the season after that.

I love fashion and have an eternal case of the shoppies that’s kicked up several notches when I see a really great outfit. I try to rein this in by restyling my wardrobe, reducing my firsthand consumption, sticking with mostly circular shopping, and letting the things I want sit in my cart for so long that they get bought out from under me. If you’ve been reading along for the last 100 posts, you’ll know I credit this mindset to prioritizing secondhand fashion.

I know that secondhand is daunting for a whole list of reasons: it’s way less convenient, it requires a larger time investment upfront, you have to know your measurements, sizing is what it is, item conditions are subjective, product images aren’t appealing, you can’t easily figure out how something will fit when it’s on a hanger or mannequin, many rabbit holes are involved, there isn’t the visual repetition of new clothes that leads to trend recognition, pricing is all over the place, and you have to trust your gut instead of what a bunch of other people are wearing.

Out of all of those reasons, I believe that hesitancy towards secondhand boils down to the first and last points of friction and social proof. We’ve gotten entirely too comfortable with overnight shipping, buying multiple sizes to try on at home, impulse shopping, panic buying, walking into a fast fashion store and coming out with five new outfits, and seasonally purging the contents of our closets with an ‘it’s okay, I’m donating it’ mentality.

Even more so, we’ve gotten too hung up on the groupthink of brands and social media showing us what to wear and not stopping to ponder if it’s something we actually want to wear. The rapid climb of several specific fashion items on Substack in the two years I’ve been on here is wild. These are things we might not give a second glance offline, but put them on a hundred stylish people projecting enviable lifestyles and suddenly pants that cost almost $1,000 seem reasonable and vital to our self-actualization.

Which leads me to the title of this post: why can’t we trust our own taste enough to shop secondhand? I’m not talking about the ideas of universal good taste, cool girl taste, or chic taste floating around the internet right now. I’m talking about individual taste for things that make you go ‘ooh!’ when you see it. There have always been innovators and early adopters leading the way in fashion to influence others, but this 24/7 access to brands and creators has blunted our understanding of and confidence in what we like without the conduit of seeing it on someone else. The best way to get this back is by shopping secondhand because there’s usually no aesthetic to speak of unless your aesthetic is sad hanger or mannequin.

I’ve found over the years that secondhand drastically reduces the role that other people play in your shopping habits. When I was swayed by the new things everyone else was wearing, my closet was a mess. Nothing went together and I felt like I never had anything to wear because mashing together different trends from different influencers made my outfits look chaotic. It made me feel chaotic and I kept buying more new things in the hopes of finally creating the fashionable version of myself I envisioned every time I hit place order.

Then I came across The RealReal. At first I used it to find the expensive fashion all over my Instagram feed at a price I could afford. Over time I shopped secondhand to find items that spoke to my personal style and growing eco values1. I stopped taking wardrobe cues from influencers who looked amazing in an endless array of gifted outfits and found items that spoke to me even though no one else was wearing them. I developed a critical eye for things I liked to put on my body instead of cosplaying someone else’s aesthetic. I’m still inspired by what creators are wearing, but now I know how to adapt looks I like without shopping my way into them. And when I do shop, I find unique things that are hard to replicate firsthand. I get so many more compliments on my outfits today, but more importantly I buy less and feel confident in what I’m wearing because the main person inspiring how I get dressed is me.

I’m sharing a handful of things I bought preloved because they fit my personal style. I hope this energizes you to make a change if you’re:

• trying to escape getting dressed in a social media echo chamber

• sick of buying clothes you don’t really like

• in the process of developing your own distinct style

• looking at the things you already own with fresh eyes

• getting deeper into secondhand

• trying to reduce your fashion footprint

I’m not part of the Tibiverse, but I appreciate the brand and have several of their skirts and dresses on my secondhand wishlist. As I was scrolling my beloved The RealReal last year, this pink Tibi dress caught my eye for its asymmetric hem and deep v-neck. I’m mostly a modest dresser and somewhat delusionally bought this to wear to a wedding, realized it was too low cut for my comfort the minute I tried it on, and have been happily layering it ever since.

After years of oversized longline blazers, I was ready for a cropped jacket. I bought one firsthand exactly two years ago that I’ve worn 90 times and these secondhand versions followed. Cropped blazers have gained traction in the trend landscape and you might be tempted to buy one firsthand this fall. I’m here to confirm that there are so many options available at resale if you can commit to a little more time and patience to find the jacket that fits your style.

I’m primarily a neutrals person, but this Utex vintage wool/cashmere blend red fringed jacket on eBay caught my eye this winter. I waffled over buying it because the red is so vibrant compared to my army of gray jackets, but the color and fringe detail (and the fear of someone else buying this when I got a great offer from the seller) pushed me over the edge. This is the most complimented item in my closet after my Ganni shoes, the one where I get to say, “thanks, it’s vintage” over and over again.

I used to be a maximalist who never met a print she didn’t like. Case in point: every printed dress and skirt pictured below. My style skews minimal today, but I still wear these because classic animal prints are neutral staples imo. We’re about to be catapulted headlong into an animal print fall, so consider the fact that none of the prints I’m wearing were designed in this decade as your sign to restyle what you own or shop secondhand instead of buying something brand new.

This skirt is an example of seeing a trend on many fashionable people and still knowing it reflects my personal style. I’ve been on a highkey search for a preloved white lace maxi skirt since last summer and the absolute joy when I finally found this one last month was unparalleled. Even more so that it cost $9.74 compared to the almost $300 price tag I’ve seen this type of skirt going for firsthand this summer.

Closing out today’s post with a few lessons I’ve learned since I started shopping resale in 2014. I’d love to hear how secondhand has changed your outlook on fashion consumption, or consumption in general, in the comments.

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