May 2, 2025
SINGAPORE – Trust me when I say that no one is more delighted about the arrival of 2nd Street in Singapore than me.
A loyal fan since my first trip to Japan in 2023, I have structured entire holidays around thrifting at the store and other popular reuse chains.
When I came down with food poisoning on a four-day trip to Taipei in 2024, I dragged my medicated self out of bed to continue crossing off every 2nd Street outlet I had bookmarked in the city. It was well worth the queasiness because I left with prized finds, including a vintage Prada bag for under $300.
And I am not partial to any one chain. Since I was a teenager trawling flea markets at *Scape, I have loved the thrill of the hunt when it comes to shopping pre-loved goods, to add something unique to my wardrobe.
So, I have had mixed feelings about the rise of thrift stores, particularly in Singapore.
Like any phenomenon that starts with good intentions, the growing interest in thrifting has been double-edged. In theory, having more people value second-hand goods helps undo some of the pollution caused by the fashion industry, as it extends the life cycle of an item and keeps it relevant in the market for longer. But the reality is hardly this simple or rosy.
Thrifting does not slow down the appetite for consumption, especially when it is seen only as an “in” thing to do. In fact, as it gains popularity for novelty or perceived coolness, many simply tack a visit to the thrift store on top of existing negative patterns of consumption.
2nd Street’s buy-and-sell policy, which it is relying on to make up the stock in its Singapore store, is also worrisome.
Fast-fashion culture and easy access to marketplaces like Taobao and Shopee have shaped how a lot of people – particularly the younger generation now interested in thrifting – have grown up. A $3 top is just a tap away; online hauls can now arrive in the same day and be returned the next.
As such, many local shoppers still treat second-hand stores as dumping grounds for unwanted goods, to clear out their wardrobes and refill them with newness.
It is why charity shops like Salvation Army have had to turn away donations; why pre-loved stores like Refash – a home-grown thrift shop player that once led the charge in buying and reselling used clothing from shoppers – have become choked with fast-fashion and blogshop brands.
Few can claim to truly uphold the values behind second-hand shopping – which is to keep fashion circular and reduce new items unnecessarily entering the loop. It seems almost sacrilegious to shop at a thrift store and go home to a wardrobe full of clothes from Shein and Shopee.
Compare this with the Japanese, who, on top of valuing good brands and local designers, are known for taking good care of their clothes. It is a big factor in why the stock you see in Japanese reuse stores is still often in pristine condition.
Moreover, human nature rules that the majority of people will end up competing for the best of the best – which, in a thrift store, is the same small pool of treasured items, designer or not. And how sustainable – pun unintended – can a business be when everyone offloads his or her poor-quality pieces in the same place expected to give gems?
Hours before 2nd Street’s opening day at 313@somerset on April 29, a regular Tuesday morning, winding queues wrapped around the first local outpost in anticipation. I would bet that those in line were there for the debut drop of bargain luxury goods, which many believe will be the best.
No second-hand store is exempt from these woes. Mr Raye Padit of swopping platform The Fashion Pulpit (TFP) notes that despite healthy numbers, 30 per cent of its inventory does not get swopped out.
“It’s stock that is hard to move. Everyone assumes that because our business is about swopping, everything will circulate, but no,” he says.
To cope, he funnels this 30 per cent to TFP’s sister label PlayDate, a more Gen Z-focused thrift store, or upcycles them into custom pieces under his label PeyaRework.
TFP may have found a workaround, but the same cannot be said for all second-hand stores.
There is a reason they have had a hard time shaking the stigma attached – thrift stores started out as places for underprivileged or lower-income groups to enjoy shopping without strain on their finances. Now that thrifting has evolved into a trend, not only do we rob those who need them of decent finds, but we also capitalise on the system to fill it with junk.
Of course, that is not to say that people cannot buy fast fashion or cheap first-hand clothing. Rather, it is about adopting the right mentality towards shopping.
Ask yourself these questions before you troop down with a bag of discards. Are you selling your clothes at flea markets and to stores like 2nd Street and Refash only because they have gone out of style, and to make space for more? What made you buy the piece in the first place if you did not see it lasting in your wardrobe for longer than a year? Will this drop-off be the last?
When you truly buy into the lifestyle of thrifting, you consider every new piece in front of you more consciously, because every new addition feels like a burden.
Growing your wardrobe is an individual responsibility people cannot take lightly – if not for the sake of the planet, then at least to maintain the quality and variety in the thrift stores.
- Amanda Chai is a style correspondent at The Straits Times, where she covers all things fashion, beauty, luxury and retail.