Thrifting At A Bigger Size

I started #thriftweekclub on accident. After five or so years of looking for vintage Levi’s that actually fit my hips and thighs, I finally found a pair by total chance at a Goodwill. It felt like when Glossier launched mascara. Just like I could finally wear a full face of Glossier, I could finally wear an entirely thrifted outfit. So while sitting in my brother’s car driving from Newport Beach to Santa Barbara, I decided to post about my little goal of wearing only thrifted pieces for a week. And shockingly, a lot of my followers wanted to join. And that’s the story of how the #thriftweekclub came to be.

During the first thrift week, I was in a weird place. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about my body or any of the trials and tribulations of being almost plus sized. Cristiana and I recorded an episode of Body Banter a week before, and I was so out of it that we recorded a terrible, unfunny episode and never released it. I was sick of everything being about how I don’t fit in because of the way I look and why things have to be hard for me. So needless to say, I was not in the mood to talk about thin privilege and how it relates thrifting. But not talking about it during that first thrift week still feels like a missed opportunity. One I’m going to make up for now.

There’s a specific look that always comes to mind when I think of “the girl that thrifts”. She’s blonde with tousled (but very done) beach waves that put Jen Atkin to shame. She pairs an oversized wool sweater with her vintage Levi’s in a way that’s effortless but also perfectly draped. She’s the one that goes to Goodwill and finds that perfect 80’s skirt made for a mannequin and actually fits it. She’s able to come up with eclectic combinations that have her answering “thanks! it’s thrifted!” every time a stranger compliments her (which is often). Oh, and she’s a size 2.

I have nothing against this girl. Sure, I envy her ability to find perfect thrifted pieces with ease and pull them off like no other. But I don’t hate her for it. Especially because I think I just kind of described my own sister, and I love her to pieces. The important thing is that I’m not her. Not even close.

There is a tremendous amount of thin privilege when it comes to thrifting, but it is so often ignored. That girl who wears a size 2 can fit into 99% of the pieces at any thrift store. If something is too big for her, it’s tastefully oversized. She can wear all of the dresses and skirts and tailored trousers with ease. The options are endless and it’s simple for her to have an entirely thrifted wardrobe. Sometimes, it even goes as far as that girl judging someone like me for not exclusively shopping secondhand. But that girl doesn’t know what it’s like for someone like me to shop secondhand. And news flash! It’s not easy.

I’m a person who wears a size 12 or 14, and I typically only thrift tops. Why? Because those are the only pieces I can easily find in my size that actually fit my style. My thighs are too big for most pants, even if they’re technically “my size” (tagged sizes are often bs), and there’s just no way a vintage dress with any shape would fit my broad shoulders. I have two thrifted skirts, both technically too small for me, that I barely squeeze myself into. I sold or gave away all my thrifted dresses because they were so ill-fitting and just not my style. This all circles back to the fact that up until maybe 3 years ago, fashion wasn’t for anyone over a size 8. Anyone remotely close to the plus size range was forced into shapeless dresses, thick turtlenecks, and stretchy pants. There were no '“fashionable” pieces available for folks my size. And that means that finding them years later in a Goodwill is rare.

For the most part, my thrift finds are often monotonous and look a lot different from those “high fashion thrifters”. And I’m still tremendously privileged. Why? Well, first, there’s still much more available in my size than in sizes bigger than mine, and I can still fit into smaller sizes occasionally. Second, I have a pretty simple fashion taste. I like solid colors, simple silhouettes, etc. That means I actually might wear the basic pieces that are available in my size at the thrift store. Someone with a more eclectic taste might not. There’s this quote that keeps going around, something about how powerful someone is when they wear an entirely thrifted outfit and are still the best dressed person in the room. Every time I see that, it bums me out. Because I don’t think the combination of my thrifted Lands End turtlenecks and baggy dad jeans will ever make me the best dressed person in the room. I need a few new pieces in there to complete my style. Why does my size limitation make me any less powerful?

I am also limited to where I can thrift. Fancy, curated vintage stores? They never have anything that fits me. And I would know because I lived in Brooklyn and visited those stores often. Depop? Terrifying, because the measurements are so rarely perfectly accurate and there’s no return policy. So I typically stick to traditional thrift stores like Goodwill or online retailer ThredUp. Both are great options, but still limited when it comes to sizing. There’s also great pages on Instagram like @selltradeplus that resell pieces in sizes L and up. But those are really the options. Thrifting isn’t easy for me. Sure, I enjoy it, but it’s not easy. And I think that’s the important distinction.

We have to stop saying it’s easy to thrift certain pieces. And we have to stop shaming people who buy those pieces new. Because when someone says that anyone can easily thrift a piece, that demeans the experience of those who have a harder time finding that piece because of their size. It makes it less exciting for them to finally find that piece after looking for months. And it even invites people (likely people who don’t understand the struggle) to come after that person if they have to buy it new. Don’t believe this would ever happen? Well, I do. Because I’ve seen it (recently!) on Instagram. And it’s not okay.

Here’s what I propose. Let’s all come together to understand our own individual experiences when it comes to secondhand clothing and not label something as “easy” to find. No more judgement if someone buys something new that looks a little bit like something you thrifted. Because what is that really going to do? Let’s celebrate everyone’s personal experience with thrifting and stop the shaming all together. You deserve to show off your secondhand style regardless of if you relate to my imaginary “girl that thrifts” or your experience looks more like mine. Which is, of course, the whole point of #thriftweekclub.