Thrift is circling the drain. I’ve been beating that dead horse drum for a few years now, and I see no signs of things changing for the better. For the worse, yet – incrementally, with every passing year. It is the chickens of fast fashion (and fast everything) coming home to roost. In droves. The thrift stores are as full of stuff as ever. It’s just the stuff there now isn’t the kind of stuff that used to be there 5-10 years ago. The OGs know. To newer thrift shoppers, it might seem like business as usual, especially because the quality of stuff in thrift stores isn’t all that different from what they might be used to from shopping retail. But the OGs? We know.
Since COVID, vintage has been my refuge as a thrifter who remembers the Good Old Days. I remember that when I originally started thrifting, back in the 90s, “vintage” meant stuff from the 60s and 70s, or earlier. As a teenager who longed to shop at the GAP (back when the GAP was bomb), vintage didn’t really interest me. It didn’t represent the aesthetic I was after. That idea of “vintage” stuck with me for decades, to my ultimate detriment. Even into the 2010s, I turned up my nose at “vintage” because, much as with 60s and 70s fashion, I had a very narrow and stereotypical image of 80s and 90s fashion in my mind that didn’t align with my then-style. I couldn’t see past the label to realize that every era has a broad array of trends, and that trends are cyclical. And I was also spoiled. The 2010s were a decade of thrift excess – there were racks full of current designer pieces just waiting to be picked over. Why bother learning to spot good vintage when you’ve got Burberry and YSL and Rick Owens?
Well, you know what happened.
The designer tap ran dry, replaced by a torrent of Shein and similar crap. I was forced to look closer at pieces without fancy labels and discovered the goldmine that is vintage. Not a literal goldmine. A mine of quality and true value. Pieces made from good materials, built to last – if not a lifetime, definitely more than a dozen wash cycles. And when I say “good materials”, I mean it. The fabrics really were different pre-2005. For one thing, natural fibers – cotton, wool, silk – were more prevalent. And I am talking about 100% cotton, wool, and silk versus the synthetic blends that even high-end designers these days try to pass as “wool” and “silk”. For another thing, those fibers were actually better. Take cotton. For a long time, I thought I was imagining this: that 90s cotton had a totally different feel and weight than current day (100%) cotton. Then I learned that I wasn’t hallucinating. Everything about vintage cotton is different, from the type of fibers that were used, to the way they were grown and processed. And this was true of the cotton used in, say, the 90s by mall brands like the GAP. A vintage cotton T-shirt will invariably be miles better, quality-wise, than almost any designer version produced today; it starts with the fabric, and almost nobody is growing and processing cotton the way it used to be done. Vintage cotton is a luxury.
But time marches on. It’s 2026 now, which means that, technically, anything from 2006 and earlier is now considered vintage. Wild, I know. The problem is that, as the vintage “window” continues to roll forward, we are about to hit an enormous pothole … otherwise known as the rise of fast fashion. Now, there’s an argument to be made that fast fashion started earlier, at the beginning of the 2000s, with the expansion of retailers like Forever 21, Zara, and H&M. However, fast fashion undisputably began its meteoric rise around the time and immediately after the Global Financial Crisis in 2008. What that means is that, over the next few years, the category of “vintage clothing” is going to start including more and more of the late 2000s and early 2010s fast fashion. The farther away from 2000 we get, the less pre-2000 clothing will exist to be thrifted. I mean, we’re not making more of it and the existing supply is dwindling because more and more people are trying to source it (and then hang on to it).
So, consider this your warning: get out there and thrift vintage while you can.
I’m already seeing less and less of it than I was even a couple of years ago – and, believe me, it’s all I look for at the thrifts these days. It’s getting pretty disheartening. Every so often, though, I will find a special piece that makes me a believer all over again. Let me show you.
Last week, I found this incredible 80s Laurel wool plaid skirt:

How do I know it’s from the 80s? Well, the biggest clue was the tag:

Made on West Germany: pretty self-explanatory, right? LOL.
I’ve been in the vintage game for a long time now, so I happen to know that Laurel is a good brand. (It was a diffusion brand launched by Escada in the early 80s.) But even if you’d never heard of it before, there are obvious signs that this skirt is fantastic quality. I mean, like, luxury designer quality. (And, yeah, this is a perfect example of what I was talking about earlier. An “accessibly-priced” line sold in the 80s can probably out-compete the current-day pieces made by its parent designer brand today.)
Let’s start with materials. The main part of the skirt is wool.

Thick, swishy, still in perfect condition 40 years later. Ditto the leather waistband. Yes, it’s real leather. Except for some minor rubbing on the inside of the buckle, it looks great. And feels very soft and supple. And check out the grommets:

That’s a detail that makes this a piece to last a lifetime.
Now, let’s look at the inside of the skirt. Checking out seams and hems is one of my fave things to do. I’m not a sewer, but I appreciate quality finishing.


I’m pretty sure that hem was hand-sewn. The last time I saw something similar in a more recent piece was in a dress from Dries Van Noten (that probably retailed for thousands of dollars).
I have no idea how much this skirt would have retailed for in the 80s, but I’m pretty sure that, even adjusted for inflation, it didn’t cost $500 and up – which is a very conservative estimate of what a similar piece would go for these days. I paid $16 for it at the thrifts. That’s higher than it would have been 5 years ago (when it probably would have been under $10), but still an incredible bargain.
And the fit? Incredible. This skirt looks absolutely fire – and it’s timeless. I can’t wait to pair it with a graphic tee and some Docs and rock the hell out of it.
Have I convinced you to give vintage thrifting a try?
















