Imagine this: You’re shopping at the Goodwill Bins when a group of shoppers decked out in Carhartt jackets, Stüssy fleeces, double-knee carpenter pants (extra points if they’re camo) and Birkenstock Bostons burst through the front door.
You guessed it. Say goodbye to your leisurely Sunday morning thrifting.
Their popular branded garments might be a clue, but these clothing resellers find many ways to make themselves known. The “Bins Demons” — as my brother and I have come to dub them — have a sixth sense for low-priced items with high demand and will stop at nothing to buy as many of them as possible.
Consequently, their practices are actively ruining thrifting as an experience and as a concept.
At places like the Goodwill Bins — where the method of shopping is to pick through various piles of clothing in plastic tubs at a low price per pound — there is an unspoken but established standard. Most shoppers will choose one bin to browse through at a time and those with good etiquette wait until another bin is left unattended before moving on.
Meanwhile, the Bins Demons like to divide and conquer. They rush through each pile as quickly as possible, throwing clothes around and placing whatever catches their eye into their carts so that no one else can snatch them up. If accompanied by fellow resellers, they tend to gather and sort through their hoards like kids on Halloween — arguing over which goods to keep and which to toss back into the nearest tub.
This new influx of resellers is changing the entire thrifting experience. If you don’t adapt, you’re forced to pick through the remains of the Bins Demons’ abandoned territory.
What does this shift in thrift culture do for anyone? Nothing good. The act of thrifting has become a competition of speed and greed when, in reality, it began as the polar opposite.
Thrift stores, such as Goodwill, are meant as a way to provide affordable clothing as well as reduce clothing waste. Charity stores like Salvation Army are a community-based concept founded on values of social justice and human need. They provide jobs and support for lower and middle-income households.
Thrifting is also meant for buyers searching to do their part in being environmentally conscious and counteracting the harmful fast fashion industry.
With thrifting’s rise in popularity, people who can typically afford high-end clothing have started to turn their attention to second-hand clothing options — and resellers have taken it to another extreme.
These resellers are quite literally changing the environment of thrift stores. In recent years, my local Goodwill warehouse has attempted to minimize the rush and chaos created by these invasive resale shoppers through a raffle system to randomly determine what order each person can enter the warehouse. Shopping at the Bins is no longer a convenient excursion for most regular attendees.
Clothing should be a basic right for everyone, not a recreation of Darwin’s “survival of the fittest.”
It’s not just the Bins, though — no one is safe. Bins Demons have a large habitat, having invaded other second-hand scenes: You might find them prowling around your local thrift store or on your Depop explore page.
Depop — an online clothing reselling app — is where resellers list their high-priced finds for target audiences like you. Once again, resellers have changed the conventions of these spaces, as prices on Depop are typically higher than most retail stores.
Proponents of reselling might claim that their methods are no different than regular thrifting because these garments are on their last stop before the landfill — but my reservations lie in the intent of the reseller.
Buying clothes second-hand still means you’re buying more clothes. Resellers go out of their way to buy as much as possible to make a profit, so really they’re just displacing the waste. It’s selfish and inconsiderate of others — especially those who rely on thrifts for affordable clothing. Resellers’ practices defeat the purpose of thrifting by purporting consumerist values.
It’s always fun to find something unique that you wouldn’t be able to buy at a fast fashion store. Thrifting is a way to actively subvert trend cycles and encourage originality through expression. You’re allowed to enjoy second-hand shopping and finding pieces for yourself, but your intentions for shopping matter.
The next time you go thrifting, you might want to consider if you’re buying something because of its value, or because you like it and have plans to wear it often. Resellers have instilled a competitive aspect into the thrifting community, but we don’t have to follow the example they’ve set.
Grace Kim SC ’27 is from San Diego, California. She loves listening to movie soundtracks, eating sour candy and reading Letterboxd reviews.
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