One day last month, I had an extra half hour before dinner with a friend. It was in a part of town I didn’t frequent very often. You know the situation.
You end up at your destination twenty minutes early because you overestimate how long it takes to transfer trains (uhm, hi, I chronically run ten minutes late, myself) and suddenly find yourself standing awkwardly on the sidewalk outside of a thrift store. You haven’t been window shopping for clothes in years but you don’t want to look like you have nothing to do with your life either, so you trot inside. I found myself in this exact situation recently.
Rather than braving the shirts and pants racks full of discarded fast-fashion sadness, I wandered into the home section in hopes of skimming through linens and bedding to score a cool vintage t-shirt. (It’s true what they say about vintage tees—retail therapy instantly morphs into DIY therapy the second you step into a thrift store.) As is often the case with linens and textiles in thrift stores, it was not very exciting. There were crappy old shirts from Abercrombie that nobody wants to touch, let alone sleep on, throwback “vintage” fleece blankets from the nineties (I refuse to believe the nineties are “vintage.” That makes me vintage-aged.
And I will not have people thinking I am ready for assisted living.) and the obligatory stained mystery-object-that-smells-that-someone-thinks-might-technically-count-as-a-quilt.
I was about to leave when something colorful peeked out from under a pile of what appeared to be floral queen size bedsheets. I tugged on the flash of indigo and pulled out…well, look for yourself. Yes, folks.
This beauty was hanging out at Goodwill sneaking its authentic Shibori awesomeness into my sweaty little shopper hands for the low price of $4.50. Me, whose Etsy shopping habits tend to break the bank despite my commitment to “basics.” Somebody lost a seriously valuable thrift store treasure out here, and I found it. But wait!
There’s more! Okay, maybe just one more but swear it’s the good kind of.more. As I dug through the fabric stack I found that my lucky thrift store dive had literally tons more where that came from.
Literally. Look at all this goodness. Vintage batik textiles from god knows where in Southeast Asia.
Handblocked Indian cotton with gold detailing. Embroidered fabric that might actually be silk. Thrifting tip 101: when you find a goldmine, dig it all up. (I really did dig this all out of one bin.
Literally. Don’t @ me.) It was right then and there, in that pile of vintage textile treasure, that it hit me. I’ve been thrifting wrong my entire life.
At least when it comes to clothing, I’ve got this process down to a science. Nothing new-to-me hides on those racks unless I’ve conquered it twice already: once with my eyes, and again with my extremely skilled shopping hand. But for some reason, I had never thought to mine the textiles before.
Until now. Let’s just dig into what you can find shopping secondhand textile sections, shall we? You can find vintage silk scarves from high-end brands, buried deep in piles of polyester window treatment samples.
Hand embroidered tablecloths from another decade (or country) that make amazing wrap-skirts or wall hangings. Vintage kimono fabric that can be cut up to make the most beautiful kimono-style jackets. Expensive vintage Indian saris that can give you upwards of five yards of some of the prettiest fabric you’ve ever seen for less than $10.
Hand woven wool blankets that make fantastic oversized scarves or shawls. “There’s so much incredible history and craftsmanship in fabrics people wouldn’t think to look at twice,” said Mei Lin, who owns Threadbare Studio and makes gorgeous custom garments by repurposing thrifted fabrics. “They’re scouring the clothing racks for things they can wear without another thought. If you’re at all creative, thrifting textiles can open up a whole new world of fashion.” My friend Emma found this pile of vintage wool blankets from Peru at her local Goodwill. “These are sooooo cool,” she texted me alongside a pic of what I later learned were vintage Peruvian weavings. “ZERO F*%)&ING WASTE ART FASHION!” She made herself the most incredible oversized wrap coat using the original weaving patterns and fringe as decoration. Total cost: less than $15 plus time. “It’s like this massive wool sweater that happens to work as clothing too,” she said.
It sells for $600 at Reformation, where it’s called a Zero Waste Hemp Crop Top and labeled “artisanal.” “I don’t know what came over me,” Emma laughed. “But I kinda-sorta see all clothing as fabric now?” Same, Emma. Same. Vintage textiles are the new black, folks.
But there’s a method to my fabric madness. Vintage sheets and blankets are made from cotton with incredible thread counts that are nearly impossible to find today ( seriously, who makes luxury sheets with 200 thread count anymore?). Most vintage silk is of a much higher quality than what you’ll find wandering through the contemporary clothing departments at stores like Anthropologie.
Spend twenty minutes digging through the textile section and you’ll understand. (Pro tip: hit up the sheet sheets first. They almost always have better cotton.) Take my beloved Japanese cotton featured at the top of this post. That print is faded, yes, but it’s still cotton with a substantial hand and a weight that makes me actually enjoy wearing lightweight summer clothes.
Linen tablecloths from yesteryear are thicker and heavier than what you’ll find at Ikea these days, even if they’ve been loved a bit. Vintage doesn’t always mean perfect, people. It also means thorough. “When you start looking closely, you realize that a lot of modern ‘luxury’ fabrics aren’t actually luxurious at all,” explains Maya Kingston, a designer focused on sustainability and ethical production. “They don’t hold dye like vintage silk does, or they’re made with synthetic blends that will age like crazy once they’re washed a few times.
Vintage textiles often surpass anything being sold in high-end retailers today.” I purchased this Hermes scarf (yes, that Hermes) from the textile section of a church thrift store in Queens. Image via @RareNYC_ That’s no misprint. I scored an authentic Hermes scarf for…wait for it… Listen, I know what you’re thinking. “Hermes sells those new for $600!” Which is true!
But also not true! There are countless replicas and outright fakes being sold as the real deal on Instagram these days. And honestly?
It’s easy to spot them. Real vintage Hermes are usually a lot more worn than what you’ll find marketed as new vintage on Instagram. This scarf had a little stain in the bottom corner, which is likely why it ended up in textiles and not covetously guarded by the sweaters at my local thrift store.
When I got it home I threw it in the wash with some gentle detergent made for silk and bye-bye stain! Most thrift store workers simply aren’t trained to recognize a vintage luxury textile. “They price for movement,” says Sam Rivera, who formerly managed a thrift store chain on the East Coast.
“If we can’t identify the brand name on it, or if it’s stained or torn, into the textile section it goes. Linens and designer clothes go through these crazy assembly line sorts where people are literally throwing items into bins. They don’t have time to discern much else.” This works in our favor.
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Thrift store clothing sections, especially at larger chains, can feel extremely picked-over to me these days. Larger thrift stores often aggressively curate their clothing sections, pulling the best pieces for monthly boutique sales or high-end resale online businesses. What’s left are the clothes that don’t sell; the ones you really have to dig to find.
Most thrift store textile sections, however, remain largely untouched. “It’s like feeding birds at a patio cafe,” Mei Lin says. “You’d be surprised how often people will come in and ask me where I find these cool textiles, and then wander right past the bins without so much as a glance.” Vintage textiles are also where it’s at from a sustainability standpoint. So much of fast fashion these days is focused on finished garments rather than material goods. We’re taught to think of clothing as discrete items to be purchased, worn, and discarded—rather than as material we can reimagine and reshape into something new.
The textile section trains you to think differently. “There’s something really wonderful about giving new life to a piece that was otherwise destined for the landfill,” Emma said to me as we marveled over her new dress. “This blanket was somebody’s shit for like, 20 years before they donated it. Now look at it!” Yeah. Clothing may not last forever, but fabric can last decades—maybe even longer—if it’s cared for properly.
By shopping the textile section, we are not only bypassing the need to create more fabric waste—we’re rolling back the clock on production timelines. “For every vintage textile that someone repurposes into clothing, that’s one less thing that needs to be produced on a massive scale,” Maya says. “There’s also something to be said about the quality of vintage textiles versus what’s being produced today. Most mass-produced clothing today, even from so-called ‘luxury’ retailers, is made with poorer quality materials than something you’ll find hiding in a bin at Goodwill. The dying techniques alone are usually much more vibrant and don’t fade as badly over time.” Experts estimate that the fashion industry is responsible for up to one fifth of global wastewater, 85% of aquatic pollution, and produces more carbon emissions than all flights and maritime shipping COMBINED.
So yes, shopping the textile section is better for the planet than buying new clothing—but taking that one step further and shopping secondhand textile sections is exponentially more impactful. “You have to think about how much work goes into creating textiles,” Mei explains. “If you’re sewing your clothing from vintage textiles yourself, you’re bypassing almost all of the polluting parts of garment production!” Unless you’re talented enough to sew your own clothes (I’m jealous of these people, honestly), there’s good news. You can put literally all of these textiles to use with minimal or zero modification. Let’s dig into some easy thrift hacks that take advantage of the goldmine hiding in your local thrift store’s textile section.
Scarves. They’re the gateway drug of thrifted textile shopping. Pinpoint silk squares hiding amongst the polyester.
Learn to identify Vera Neumann scarves (they always have the designer’s signature stitched into one corner). Even if it’s not authentic Vera, there are tons of legitimately vintage designer scarves to be scored from decades past hiding in textile bins everywhere. The biggest hack?
Scarves don’t always have to be worn as scarves. Emma pointed out that you can totally sling a scarf on your purse handle as decoration, use vintage fabric as beach cover ups, or even frame them as art. Scarves are versatile, easy to work with, and come in all shapes and sizes.
Vintage tablecloths can be the next best thing to actual clothing, thanks to the magic of fashion hacks. Round tablecloths become instant wrap-skirts or capes with zero modification required. Cut a rectangle in the middle and you’ve got yourself a poncho.
Curtain panels can be hacked into simple dresses or tops with a couple strategic cuts. Natural fiber fabrics like cotton and linen breathe like crazy, making them ideal for warmer weather (or ladies with active wardrobes). And if you don’t feel up to sewing your purchases yourself, chances are there’s a good tailor literally blocking customers in your neighborhood.
Bid farewell to boring vintage clothing and hello to one-of-a-kind style thats truly yours. I found this vintage Japanese linen tablecloth in the floral sheets section of Goodwill and decided to keep it in cloth form. As soon as I threw it over my shoulders, I literally got stopped on the street by someone asking where I got it (true story).
Sewing aside, even just draping yourself in unique vintage textiles is a totally acceptable and.Zero.Modification required. “A lot of people don’t realize fabric is fabric,” Anita Chen, a vintage dealer with a passion for upcycling textiles, told me. “They see a tablecloth and can only conceive of it hanging on a table. Take thrift shopping textiles to the next level and you start looking at materials as materials.” Best of all? Since textile sections aren’t nearly as trafficked as thrift store clothing racks, prices tend to be way lower.
I’ll be honest: thrift store clothes shopping isn’t the mega-bargain it once was. Thrift stores are popping up on every block (seriously. Stop asking me to donate to youretsy.com shops already. ), meaning more competition and driving up prices as thrift store brands become more and more mainstream.
Textile sections, however, are still a bit of a forgotten land. “My whole job is pricing things to sell,” Sam says. “Guess where most textiles sit on the shelf?” “In case your’re wondering,” I typed back. “YES.” Come hang with me in textile section hell/ heaven. Shopping secondhand textiles is how I stumbled into making FriendsWithThrift store, believe it or not. The only downside to my newfound obsession is that there are always more textiles than me (or my closets) could possible love.
But here are some of my favorites for when you’re ready to start digging: Another one of my favorite tips? Learn what different natural fibers feel like by touch. You may not know your silk from your wool immediately, but with a quick google (or perhaps an investment in lovely books like Native textiles or Ethnic Textiles from around the Globe) you’ll be chatting with the best of them.
Silk is cool to the touch and very smooth. Cotton will feel softer and more matte. Linen is thicker and has more of a “slug-y” feel to it.
Wooly feeling? Probably wool. Look for natural fibers, and when you find them, buy them. “But Suze, what about when shopping thrifted textiles?” you may ask. “What about all those amazing rayons and polyester blends I’ll never wear again?” Fair question.
My advice is to simply avoid them at all costs. Resist the polyester sister garments lurking behind curtains and tablecloths and stick to all things natural when diving into textile shopping. Textiles often carry the stories of the lives they’ve previously lived woven into their very threads.
This gold-printed vintage Mexican tablecloth that Maeve discovered on a trip to Guatemala and ended up wearing to our wedding last fall was thrifted from her mom’s closet. “My mom used it as a tablecloth growing up,” Maeve says. “She moved it to her closet when we got married and said she wanted me to use it for something. Guess I took that pretty literally!” While thrift store clothing will only ever speak to the life it lived while on someone’s back, thrifted textiles can carry decades of story within their stitches.
Who knows—perhaps that vintage tablecloth hiding in your closet was once slept on by rockstars.
Or even THIS dress. Follow Some half-assed advice I read once and stuck with ever since: one in, one out. If you thrift something new, donate (or sell!) something old.
Taking care of vintage textiles is one of the single best ways to make sure they stick around for future generations of clothing remixers. Thrifting textiles isn’t just better for the environment—it’s better for your wallet. Every week I seem to discover another ridiculously-designer vintage textile hiding out incognito at thrift stores around New York.
I recently found enough gorgeous silk floral fabric to make myself a dress, a scarf, and small top—all for $6.99. Help a girl out and share this post. Your friends will thank me when they find out you have the BEST textile shopping hacks of all time.
P.S. Thanks to some truly killer thrifting finds, these textiles just might be my new favorite way to upcycle secondhand clothing, too. (Yes, I’ll let you down that easily.)
