Katie Harris says she is easily convinced that the dress isn’t too expensive and she will be able to wear it to work. Photo / Carson Bluck
Katie Harris says she is easily convinced that the dress isn’t too expensive and she will be able to wear it to work. Photo / Carson Bluck
Opinion by Katie Harris
Katie Harris is the New Zealand Herald's social issues reporter, regularly writing about sexual assault, workplace bullying and harassment, covering high-profile court cases and national media scandals.
Feeling guilty about the impact her shopping habit was having on the environment, journalist Katie Harris explores life without buying brand-new clothes.
If it weren’t for the impending climate doom, or my fear of forever being locked out of the Auckland housing market, I would spend all my moneyon clothes, shoes and handbags.
My targeted ads are so accurate that I just have to think of Lululemon, and the newest tights will appear on my Instagram feed.
I am the perfect mark. An arm so slack it will bend with an ounce of affirmation that actually, the dress isn’t too expensive, and I will be able to wear it to work.
It’s easy to fall into this cycle, the ‘I only need to buy this one thing and then all my problems will be solved, and I’ll look like Dua Lipa’ rut.
In a world of ultra-fast fashion and overnight delivery, it can be the default. The clothes don’t cost much, and if you lose interest, there’s always another pair of shoes to fill the hole.
A pair of shoes Katie Harris purchased from an op shop. Photo / Supplied
I can’t remember the exact date I decided to stop, but after a blowout on a new dress in early 2023, I made a decision to go cold turkey on new clothing.
It’s not the first time I’ve been here, trying to cancel new fashion from my life.
During uni I did it for a year, but cutting out my shopping habit felt easier when I was only working one day a week and spent any money I had after rent on bleaching my hair, petrol and partying.
I think it lasted until the summer, when I started full-time work packing shakti mats in the December heat of a Christchurch factory.
After graduating, my love affair with clothing gained renewed vigour.
Bec & Bridge, Alice McCall, Kookai, I loved it all. And armed with disposable income, I dived in.
I gave myself a budget and mostly stuck to it. So it wasn’t bad, was it?
But this year the guilt got to me again, and the dread of knowing my clothing consumption was not sustainable finally forced my hand to action.
Katie Harris in one of the dresses she purchased this year. Photo / Carson Bluck
While reports vary, it’s estimated the global fashion industry produces between 8 and 10 per cent of global CO2 emissions annually.
On an individual level, buying new clothes has an environmental cost 70 times higher than buying used items.
I know I am only one small fish in a very small pond stuck on a massive rock, and maybe its naive to believe, but if my actions make even the tiniest difference, it’s worth it to me.
However, being able to shop this way is a privilege. As canvassed in this Spinoff piece by Alex Casey, there is a dearth of plus-sized second-hand options out there and trying to buy this way can be unworkable for many. The article outlines how when larger sizes are offered, they are often snapped up by straight-sized people after that oversized look.
Plus-sized second-hand shops remain scarce, but initiatives like the online pre-loved clothes shop Curated Curves are starting to change this.
There are also some items where even I draw the line: underwear, swimwear, socks, stockings, hats. And while I only bought second-hand heels this year, when I eventually do need to buy sneakers, I’ll likely get a pair fitted to my feet from a sports store.
Shopping this way hasn’t saved me money as I still put aside about the same amount for clothing (about $30 per week), nor has it saved me time.
I still scroll for hours looking at clothes online; the only difference is now they’re second-hand and usually better quality.
I still shop in-store, but I only buy things from op shops, or curated second-hand stores like Tatty’s in Ponsonby.
When you commit to halting your new clothing consumption you will be tested. My first real challenge came in the form of Lululemon yoga flares. The kind all the TikTok influencers are wearing.
They were perfect. A tight high waist that didn’t slip down during Pilates, fabric unnaturally soft and a fit that looks good on everyone.
I needed them, but so did everyone else, and in the world of second-hand shopping, wanting something popular is a blessing.
Months passed before the flares in my size arrived on re-selling site Designer Wardrobe and during that wait, I was able to figure out whether I really did want them or if it was a passing phase.
Turns out I love them and have worn them several times a week since.
The clothing Katie Harris purchased this year. Photo / Carson Bluck
Often, though, it can take years.
Exhibit A is long black boots. I’ve wanted them since I was in braces, but have never been able to afford good ones, and haven’t been able to find them second-hand.
By July this year, I still hadn’t found any that were my size and not exorbitantly expensive. I’d almost given up when I strolled into Mercy Hospice op shop in Mt Eden.
The boots were a siren to me, and they fit like a glove. Real leather, knee-high, size eight. I got them.
The vintage jacket from Venice beach. Photo / Carson Bluck
Other times, you just get lucky.
On a travel writing trip to L.A. in November I was drawn to a jacket, or more accurately, my travel mate was. By the time she realised the green number with embroidered sleeves was far too large for her, I was in love.
Due to the poor conversion rate and forgetting Americans add tax at the checkout, the Venice Beach vintage purchase inadvertently turned out to be the most expensive of the year by far, coming in at around $350.
On the other hand, my most successful shop of the year came from a charity store in Whangārei. I went in for a browse and came out with a pair of kitten heels, a dress and two blazers, all for around $30.
Where to shop second-hand?
There’s an art to op-shopping. Patience is needed to scour thousands of Shein crop tops and Supre miniskirts in order to find the low-rise jeans of your dreams. You also need time, a luxury few can afford these days.
If you do have the required skills and spare hours, the best place to get a bargain is SaveMart.
There are 27 of these massive warehouses dotted across Aotearoa, with five in Auckland alone, and the prices are usually better than those in smaller boutiques.
Next you have the charity stores, think the SPCA op shop, the Salvation Army and the Hospice shop.
Personally, I have more luck in these shops but they’re usually pricier and have a limited size selection, so it is a bit hit and miss.
When it comes to thrifting a specific item, or type of clothing, you absolutely cannot beat the ease of online shopping.
Most of my online purchases are made through the Designer Wardrobe app, but Depop and TradeMe also work a treat.
Although I still need to do the math on the environmental cost of shipping or picking up second-hand items, as I write this, a vintage Kate Sylvester slip dress has just found its way into my Designer Wardrobe basket.
I have a long way to go on my climate journey, but I don’t want to go back to how I shopped before. So, at least for the time being, I’m sticking to second-hand.
