My favourite leather jacket was passed down to me by my dad almost 6 years ago. My association, however, to this jacket and the word ‘favourite’ wasn’t always the case. Aged 16 years old and whole-heartedly against the concept of wearing anything that wasn’t fresh off a fast-fashion rack, my dad’s 60’s Gulf number hung firmly in the back of my closet, neglected for the first two years by its new owner. During that period, the concept of anything pre-loved/ second hand/ vintage to me, only meant one thing: the garment was, quite simply, another person’s discarded trash.

 It wasn’t until the run-up to my second year at university amidst the ritual pre-move-out wardrobe ‘sift’ that I stumbled upon the jacket again. Now, looking back, it must have been my increased awareness surrounding the perils of the fast fashion industry, alongside my slim student budget, which injected a sense of allure into this garment that once was never there. Almost a reflection of Victoria Beckham’s 90’s leather Motocross jacket era, the idea of adopting a disgruntled ‘biker chic’ look seemed more appealing during that ‘stage’ in my life.

During my first term of second year, I initially opted to parade my new leather piece at several student affairs: from pub outings to house parties to lecture events, I was not only bewildered by the versatility of my dad’s old glad rag but most crucially, how frequently I was picking it out to wear. Whilst I’d be the first to admit that this sense of gratification also stemmed from the fact that I’d paid absolutely nothing for the jacket, it was this very jacket that prompted the start of my era of ‘second-hand shopping.’ Though I’d previously turned my nose up to that ‘signature’ smell accustomed to second-hand charity shops, I figured that it wasn’t so bad if I could pick out pieces that made my style feel a touch more ‘personal.’

There’s no question that recently, vintage has emerged as a much more robust fashion trend, with this movement plastered across social media platforms- Instagram belle, Camille Charriere, has been a pioneer in exposing the gems that can be found in London’s vintage scene, referencing her Notting Hill neighbourhood as one of her top locations to find the crown jewels of her closet. This trend has also exploded in recent fashion weeks, with a wave of social media influencers focusing their channels on this evolving sector: Kofi, founder of ‘the unknown vlogs’ series and Verona Farrell, the name behind the Instagram account ‘Second-hand Huns’ are two stand out names within this scene, with their content capturing people’s authentic style across a wave of ‘aesthetics’ and price-points.

Perhaps it’s the very yearning to both personalise and differentiate our style that prompts so many of us to switch from days browsing shopping centres to scouring out second-hand pieces. It’s no mystery that our clothes play a fundamental role in dictating the way that we feel and hold immense psychological power in elevating our sense of self. In my eyes, vintage fashion has almost unveiled itself as a form of escapism, allowing consumers to not reconnect with time passed.

Long gone are the days when the pre-loved scene was stigmatised and associated with the smell of must and morbidity. Instead, the digitisation of the fashion scene has prompted a whole new shopping era where vintage clothing items can be snapped up for just a few pounds, or rather, at premium prices. Last month, eBay decided to get a piece of the ‘premium’ pre-loved pie, investing £7.5 million into London Based ‘VIP’ start-up, Cudoni. Founded with the aim to “simplify the luxury re-sale process” eBay’s latest investment brings its investment total to £14.3 million since its founding in 2017. With the luxury retail market estimated to be valued at $31 billion and projections for 2023 set to hit $61 billion, it seems that this deal is set to be a sweet one.

Fundamentally, however, second-hand clothing does not need to break the bank, nor should it. I’ve found that some of my top second-hand purchases have been the product of swiping through racks of clothing at my local charity shops or finding myself in a ‘rabbit hole’ after aimlessly searching through Vinted. In the case of clothing, your crème de la crème items do not need to be the ones that you purchased most recently, or even for the largest amount of money. The cliche saying ‘one man’s trash is another man's treasure’ perfectly encapsulates the pre-loved scene. In the case of my father’s old jacket, I’m glad I saw a tint of treasure amidst my timidity.