Call it bargain couture with a conscience.
While British model and grunge goddess Kate Moss catwalks her way to fame in expensive designer wear, her contemporaries in London are turning to cheap, second-hand clothing racks with a feel-good factor.
Each week, nightclubbers visit Oxfam, a trendy thrift store in the fashionable Covent Garden area of central London, to buy used clothes to wear to dance club “theme nights.”
When the parties are over they return-you could say “recycle”-the second-hand grunge, ’70s or rave garb they bought for a pittance.
So, in effect, a shirt or a pair of platforms can be sold many times over, better benefiting Oxfam, a 51-year-old international charity that aids and educates people.
What an idea!
Sona Abantu, 30, manager of the Covent Garden Oxfam, says the recycling trend began last year when a group of clubbers requested a lot of women’s underwear, plastic fruit, beads and imitation flowers for a party. After the party, they returned the clothes.
Abantu seized upon the idea.
He began suggesting to customers that they return the clothes they purchased so that they could be cleaned and put on the racks again.
Now, Oxfam’s recycling movement is de rigueur. Abantu estimates the Covent Garden Oxfam raises about $2,100 a week for charity, with about 79 percent of the international charity’s profits earmarked for Oxfam’s oversees programs. About 70 percent of the clothes sold are returned, most are cleaned and some come back with accessories sewn on.
“I put (the recycling trend) down to the recession, without a doubt,” Abantu says. “They (clubbers) have all these theme nights and they cannot afford to go to a (costume store) and get the whole outfit. It’s one night. It’s just not worth spending all that money on it.”
London disc jockey Adrian Pandit, who has hosted theme nights at some of London’s smaller night clubs, says grunge and ’70s music are encouraging the recycling trend.
British youth want bell-bottoms from the ’70s, Donny Osmond-style hats, beads and platform shoes. Ravers want baggy jeans, tennis shoes and items with brand names like Levi’s and Adidas. London’s remaining punks and thrashers want everything in black, maybe with few chains attached.
Londoner Simon Coleman, 25, says he has been shopping at Oxfam for years.
“It’s cheap,” says Coleman, decked out in purple flares. “You get a range of clothes you’re not going to see in other shops.”
Unlike regular retailers who are in charge of their stock, Oxfam depends on donations. There are no aggressive clerks on commission and no flashy magazine advertisements.
To stay current, Abantu and Oxfam volunteers monitor trends and draw the hottest looks out of the goodness of the donor’s heart.
Roger Pereira, a ’70s devotee, says he decided to buy his club clothes from Oxfam after his sister shopped there and was looking pretty “groovy.” Praising the originality of the Oxfam collection, he proudly wears his orange bell-bottom pants, cream-colored vest and multicolored floppy hat and says he loves the way women look in false eyelashes.
Pereira, 21, is convinced the styles from the ’70s have staying power.
“Fashion at the moment is turning to the past for its inspiration,” he says. “I feel the ’70s will carry on. It’s like Coca-Cola really.”
Staffed by volunteers from art, media and business schools, Oxfam faces more competition from other charities and the increasingly popular outdoor junk sales. But, Oxfam is rigorously promoting its hip, sensitive image.
“Why go to Benetton when you can come here for less,” says Abantu, “where money goes to Third World? It’s the recycling for the environment’s sake, but also for the caring sake of your fellow human being,” says Abantu. “We don’t all need those labels.”
