As you may recall, one of my goals for the year was to shop more intentionally. I want to focus on pieces that are high quality and meaningful in the context of my personal style journey; this is the only way to bring real value to my already highly-curated wardrobe. I have been working to identify some of these pieces, and part of my focus has been dedicated to curating a Ralph Lauren “capsule” that embodies those aspects of the RL ethos which most resonate with me. I’ve been looking over the collections from the past 20-30 years (and re-reading my favourite book about Papa Ralph) and homing in on looks and trends that align with my avatars, then identifying the key pieces required to translate those looks into outfits for my own life. These are the kinds of pieces I want to include in my capsule.

But that was only part of the process. Over the last few years, I’ve added a fair bit of RL clothing to my closet. (This comes from a number of brand lines under the Ralph Lauren umbrella, including blue label, Polo Ralph Lauren, LAUREN Ralph Lauren, Denim & Supply, and Chaps; for convenience, I refer to all of them as RL.) So the other part of the process involving going through those clothes and picking out the “key pieces”, so I could map out what the existing capsule looked like.

Here is how things stand:

Wool tweed blazers and sweater vests are cornerstones of my Historian avatar. I am obsessed with my RL ones:

As far as blazers go, I have enough for my outfit needs. That is not to say that I’ll never buy another RL blazer again — if I come across one at the thrifts, I probably will — but I am not adding this as an item on my intentional shopping list. When it comes to sweater vests, I’m a bit on the fence; I would like one or two additional ones in different (brighter) colour palettes, but this isn’t a high priority because I already have a decent selection to work with. I am leaving this off my intentional shopping list for now, but may revisit later if/when other, more meaningful items have been found.

Next, we have a bit of a mix: another sweater vest, a classic oversized men’s shirt, patterned sweater, and a selection of southwest-inspired pieces.

Based on recent observations, I know I need a similar oversized shirt but in white. Now, this doesn’t have to be RL specifically, and because it’s a fairly generic item, I am going to focus on sourcing it at the thrift store. Chunky, patterned sweaters are a different story. Ralph Lauren is famous for his knitwear, and there are several pieces I would like to add to my capsule, including a Polo bear sweater, and some Victoriana-style knits similar to his 80s collections (a floral intarsia sweater, a lace-trimmed cardigan, etc.). I say “similar” because, while I would love to own some original 1980s pieces, I would also be happy with latter iterations of those styles; the brand is well-known for referencing its own history, so there can be multiple versions of a particular trend from different eras.

Last but certainly not least, we have the skirts.

I think you all know how I feel about skirts. Ralph Lauren skirts, in particular, are some of my favourites (and I have a lot of amazing skirts in my closet!). I wear them a lot and they are a backbone for all 3 of my avatars. I have been editing my skirt collection for months now, to make room for the ones I love the most. And also room to add a few more, because I’ve had a couple of specific pieces on my radar for a while now. (The good news is that my daughter now fits the same size as me, so I am passing a few of my older faves on to her. Her style isn’t the same as mine, but I am hoping there’s some common ground when it comes to skirts, haha!).

Which brings me to my first intentional purchases of the year.

The first one was, what else, a skirt — from Ralph Lauren’s short-lived Country line.

Quite apart from being vintage RL with a prairiecore vibe, it is a very “me” skirt in many other ways. The silhouette is one of my faves: a full, ankle-length skirt with cinched waist and lots of volume. (My other fave skirt silhouette is the long column, like the brown tweed RL skirt above.) I have an obsession with patterns of pink cabbage roses on blue backgrounds; highly specific and totally unexplainable — I don’t even like chintz that much, generally speaking! The fabric is a linen-cotton blend, and there is so much of it! The twirl factor is off the charts. I fell in love with this skirt last summer, when my friend Josh wore it to my clothing swap. I knew immediately that it was RL, and I also knew that finding it would be a challenge. I spent months meticulously trawling Poshmark and eBay for listings, and in all that time, I only ever found one.

Luckily, it was in my size. Not so luckily, it was kind of pricey. The listing was set as Buy It Now, with no offer option. I watched the listing. And then re-watched it, 3 or 4 times, as it went unsold and relisted. The seller never dropped the price, and never sent me any offers on it. I hemmed and hawed for MONTHS. In fact, in the process of hemming and hawing, I ended up buying a different RL floral skirt I found on eBay while waiting for this one to either drop in price or pop up in another listing. You may remember that story; it’s the brown, pink and blue patchwork number in the photo above. While I have no regrets about buying that skirt — it’s amazing in its own way, and patchwork-style skirts are another RL category I would like to expand in my closet — it didn’t fill the hole in my heart for the rose floral skirt.

Eventually, in the game of chicken between me and the seller, I blinked first. A week into the new year, I decided to pull the trigger. By then, I knew that I would feel pretty devastated if the skirt sold; the chances of another one popping up again soon in my size — not to mention for a lower price — were relatively low. The price was an important consideration, actually. The market for vintage RL is hot right now, and I don’t see any signs of it cooling off. That patchwork skirt? The same style in a slightly different colorway popped up in a new listing a couple of months after I purchased mine; it was almost $50 more than what I paid for mine. The price of the rose floral skirt was also higher than what I paid for the patchwork skirt (which was already higher than I’m using to paying for, well, any clothing these days). With shipping, it was $130CAD. But, with the concept of intentional shopping in mind, I decided it was worth it.

So, almost 8 months after I first saw it, I finally bought the skirt. And you know what? I have no regrets. (Even though I got burned on customs … but that’s a story for next week.) It is a beautiful piece I know I will treasure for a long time. I’ve already worn it. I couldn’t wait for summer.

Another recent additional to my RL capsule was, strictly speaking, a 2023 purchase but I am adding it here because it fits the intentional shopping criteria.

This piece is vintage blue label RL, likely from the 80s. It’s 100% cotton and has a cozy, almost flannel-like feel. And it has that Victorian vibe that I want to have represented in my capsule. This blouse will work well, I think, with quite a few of my skirts. I paid $25 for it, which is frankly a steal these days. I got it from a local vintage reseller I met through Poshmark a while ago, who has a great eye for vintage boho pieces and who always offers amazing deals. As she travels to the US and visits flea markets and thrift stores there, I’ve asked her to keep an eye out for me for RL pieces. It’s good to have a network!

Come back next week for part 2 of my intentional shopping diaries, and a kinda epic eBay story.

Details: Mexx shirt (Poshmark), Uniqlo sweater, Ralph Lauren skirt, Anne Klein belt (all thrifted)

Thoughts: What happened here was, I loved the skirt/shirt combo, but I also liked how the green looked with it, but couldn’t decide whether to wear it or not, so I split the difference. Maybe it’s because I’ve been finally listening to the Articles of Interest exploration of Ivy style, and the whole preppy thing has been on my mind more than usual. I never thought I’d be the kind of person who wears a sweater over her shoulders, but here we are. It does have possibilities as a styling trick, I have to say. LOL!

Details: Bonnie Strauss dress, Banana Republic sweater & necklace (all thrifted), Ralph Lauren belt, Lena Bernard necklace (both Poshmark)

Thoughts: I love the richness of the chocolate brown velvet and wanted to pair it with something that complemented it. This plum-ish purple was perfect, as was turquoise as an accent. I used one of my fave styling tricks, of “tucking” a sweater into a wide belt over a dress to create the appearance of separates. This is a simple outfit formula, elevated by a fantastic colour palette.

Details: Tommy Hilfiger shirt, Mexx vest, Ports International blazer, Esprit belt, CoH jeans (all thrifted)

Thoughts: Another much-used formula, and I decided to create visual interest with a bit of subtle pattern mixing. Florals (shirt) and stripes (vest) are always a good combo. And I am loving brown as my default “neutral” these days; a big change for me, as I used to be a “black all the way” girlie. Brown is softer and suits my current aesthetic better, I think — it doesn’t call for as much contrast as my previous ones.

Details: no name turtleneck, Ralph Lauren sweater, Issey Miyake skirt (all thrifted), vintage belt (Poshmark)

Thoughts: Back on the Ralph train with another big skirt/big belt moment. Instead of a jacket, I stuck with a statement sweater, layered over a contrast (thin) turtleneck for an extra pop of colour. I could have (should have?) gone with a more subdued black belt, but I picked this white one because I thought it would be fun to extend the stripe pattern. Sometimes, you have to take a little risk and see what happens.

Details: Joe Fresh shirt, Eaton vest, Cartonnier pants, Escada blazer (all thrifted), Steve Madden shoes (retail)

Thoughts: Doing the villain colours again, this time with plum purple (my usual) and a bright kelly green (not my usual). I was inspired to try this because I thrifted, in quick succession, this older Joe Fresh shirt and this even older Eaton vest; the greens in each piece match, and the vest also has purple in its pattern so … idea born. This preppy take on my villain colours was an interesting departure for me; the combo didn’t feel badass per se, but did feel jaunty and fun.

Details: vintage sweater, Ralph Lauren skirt, Oak & Fort coat (all thrifted)

Thoughts: After an unseasonably warm winter, it was a struggle to adjust to a cold snap — including when it came to dressing. I had to pull out the closest thing I have to a winter coat, which is getting a bit tired after several years; I have been putting off replacing it because (a) finding a heavy-duty coat that is versatile and at least a little stylish is hard, and (b) the weather didn’t make it a priority this year. I guess this is a sign to start looking. Anyway, to make up for the coat, I had to come up with a fun but still extra-warm outfit. Stripes on stripes (and many layers) it is!

Editor note: This is a guest post from my best friend, Jenni. A (self-described) policy nerd currently pursuing study at McGill University in Montreal, she is also an intrepid traveler and fellow thrifter, two hobbies that inspired this post.

Did you know that, in North America, an estimated 13 million tons of textile waste is created each year? Some of that ends up in landfills, some of it in thrift stores. Repurposing discarded items through thrifting is an eco-conscious solution, contributing to waste reduction, a smaller carbon footprint, and the continuation of a circular economy. Nevertheless, the fate of thrifted goods once they outlive their usefulness in the thrift store raises questions. Thrift stores only sell about 10% of the donations they receive. 

Have you ever wondered what happens to unwanted items after that? What does life after the thrift store look like? 

Various fates await these goods. If we focus on clothing specifically, unsold items can end up being sent to landfills – which means their donation to thrift stores was only a temporary diversion – transformed into scraps or recycled into new textiles, or shipped to be sold overseas. A recent trip to Morocco shed new light on the latter outcome, and made me reconsider a lot of things. 

As a seasoned traveler with a deep passion for thrifting – credit goes to my best friend, who introduced me to this hobby years ago – I’ve explored secondhand markets in various corners of the world, from Kenya and Uganda to Ghana and Cambodia. My experience in Morocco bears striking similarities to what I saw in those other locations. My general observations of thrift markets in these countries indicate a widespread presence of secondhand goods. I have consistently come across thrift markets during my travels, and I’ve noticed varying types of sellers depending on the country. In Eastern Africa, for instance, it appeared that there were many small, individual shops focused on specific items such as ladies’ dresses or mens’ pants. In most countries, though, I found large format markets selling secondhand consumable goods purchased through overseas trade. 

Tiflet is a small town in Morocco with a population of around 80,000, about one hour away from the capital city of Rabat. It is small, semi-prosperous but not overly important and definitely not a tourist destination. Every night in Tiflet, there is a sellers’ market. The market is located in the downtown area and offers everything from custom-made new clothing, to fresh produce, to household cleaning products and everything in between. It’s a vast array of sights, sounds, and smells, full of families and commerce. It’s loud and overwhelming, but also charming; it’s one of my favourite places to visit and participate in when I travel to Morocco. 

As an avid thrifter, my favourite section of the market is where secondhand goods are sold. These items are not marketed as new to Moroccan consumers, but as overseas secondhand or recycled items. It is not a particularly large area, but it is usually covered in tarps and has basic lighting. Inside, there are around 8-10 tables where the secondhand clothing is displayed. Other secondhand items, such as household goods, are usually sold in front of the tents, laid out on the ground and organized according to their purpose — electronics, storage items, or other accoutrements bundled together. The clothing is also usually divided into some basic, and often pretty loose, categories: women, men, children, babies, pajamas, sometimes outwear (though not all the time). 

On my most recent visit to Tiflet, there were 3 tables for women’s clothing, 3 tables for men’s clothing, 2 tables each for babies and children, and one table for pajamas. In the past, I have seen larger sections, sometimes with a full tent for each category. In other countries, I have seen large areas for just women’s clothing, where items were separated into categories such as tops, bottoms, skirts, or pants.

What is in these piles and piles of clothes? 

Basically, everything that wasn’t sold at thrift stores in the Global North. My friends in Morocco told me that the vendors at their market claim that they buy items from the United Kingdom, which makes sense from a shipping / location point of view. While I have no reason to doubt their statements, as I was looking through the piles of clothing at the Tiflet market, I couldn’t see much that would help to identify where the clothing originated. It could just as easily have been Canada or the U.S. as the U.K. or other parts of Europe. I have never looked into the logistics of buying large freight containers of secondhand clothing for sale in overseas markets like Morocco and other African countries, so it’s possible that certain locations get more goods from, say, Europe than the U.S. and vice versa. 

The piles I ended up looking through contained women’s clothing, which came in various sizes, styles and conditions. The experience was very reminiscent of thrifting at the Goodwill “bins” back home in Canada, which are, essentially, the thrift version of outlet shopping. Everything that doesn’t sell in a regular Goodwill store will end up at the “bins” before it goes to the landfill or to an overseas market such as the one I visited. The “bins” are totally different from regular thrifting: a wild mish-mash of different clothing (and sometimes other types of) items, which require you to dig through everything if you want to have any chance of finding something worthwhile. The same was true at the Tiflet market. I was surprised, though, that there were a lot more “good” items than I was expecting – good being a relative word. I was expecting primarily no-name or generic brand name clothing, but there was a surprising amount of “nicer” fast fashion such as H&M, Zara, etc. I even saw more than one pair of 7 for All Mankind jeans! There was also a lot of de-tagged clothing that was in good or adequate condition, especially knit sweaters, as well as a lot of vintage items which I could tell were good quality even though I didn’t have an inkling as to the designers. 

Speaking of vintage, there was one thing in particular that caught my eye on this particular night: a mint condition Gap “The Holiday is Here” chunky turtleneck sweater. Even from a distance, across piles and piles of clothes, I could see that this sweater was amazing and in perfect condition. The thrift gods must have been smiling on me because it was also my size. You have probably heard Adina rave about her love of pre-2008 Gap, including her obsession with their striped holiday sweaters. Well, I get it now too; I love mine so much and cannot wait to wear it! Here is an article about it.

Speaking more generally, here are some of my observations based on my visits not only to the Tiflet secondhand market, but also similar markets in other countries. The quality of most of the clothes was adequate, but there were a lot of synthetic fabrics, such as polyester and nylon, which would not be great for the desert climate of Morocco. Such fabrics are typically not as breathable as natural fibers like cotton or linen. In hot, dry climates, breathability is crucial – fabrics should allow sweat to evaporate from the skin, thus helping to cool the body. Simply put, cheap fast fashion synthetics are not conducive to this cooling, which means a lot of the clothing that ends up in countries like Morocco cannot be used by the local population. 

In Tiflet, I saw some items with a lot of wear, including things such as shrunken wool sweaters that were felted into oblivion. I am not sure that many Moroccan consumers would have the knowledge or resources to unshrink a wool sweater, or much desire to put in the time required to do so. Illiteracy and/or unfamiliarity with English also hampers some Moroccan  consumers’ capacity to comprehend washing instructions, especially for delicate fabrics like wools or natural fibers. Understanding how to care for such materials is essential for maintaining the longevity and quality of clothing. Not being able to read care labels can lead to improper washing and care practices, potentially diminishing the value and lifespan of secondhand items.

Illiteracy is a challenge in other ways as well. Women often serve as the primary clothing buyers for many Moroccan families, and the illiteracy rate for women in Morocco can be as high as 45% in some areas. Lack of literacy can make it difficult for buyers to discern between “better” and “lesser” brands in the context of North American or other foreign labels. Without the ability to identify reputable brands, these buyers may struggle to make informed choices when purchasing secondhand items. My Moroccan friends, too, were unfamiliar with many “popular” brands and had to inquire about which clothing tags were considered reputable, relying on my knowledge. For example, my aforementioned sweater find: Gap was not a brand my Moroccan friend was overly familiar with, so they did not know to look for that label or how to judge if it was a good quality item.

Additionally, the mishmash of different sizes within the secondhand clothing market presents a significant hurdle, especially considering the lack of private changing facilities in these settings. Consequently, my Moroccan friends frequently find themselves disappointed when shopping in the secondhand clothing market, as they are hesitant to purchase items that may not fit them properly. This sizing uncertainty can deter them from making investments in clothing that may ultimately prove unsuitable for their needs or preferences. 

As I contemplated the underlying dynamics of secondhand markets in countries like Morocco, it became evident that these markets predominantly favor individuals from more affluent backgrounds. My own experience serves as a case in point, whereby my successful engagement with the market was heavily dependent on my knowledge and privilege, which gave me the means to navigate and benefit from it. This raises a fundamental concern regarding the accessibility of and equitable distribution of benefits derived from such markets. 

Since my visit, I have been thinking a lot about the disparities that exist between those who possess the necessary resources and knowledge to derive benefits from these overseas secondhand markets, and those who may be excluded or unable to fully take advantage of its offerings. My experiences have also made me question whether it’s even worth it for these markets to exist given that their benefits to the people who live in countries like Morocco may not be as great as we would like to believe. A lot of things sent to the second hand markets like the one in Tiflet cannot be sold there either, and at that point they become the locals’ problem – even though it was another country (most likely in the Global North) whose overconsumption resulted in the production of those goods in the first place. What obligations do we owe to people in Morocco – and Kenya, Uganda, Ghana, Cambodia and so many other places around the world – when we ask them to accept our unwanted clothing?