The political economy of Depop: Exploring the gentrification of thrifting
The world is burning fast and furious. The environmental crisis we have created for ourselves is seeing its effects play out on a global scale like no other, a planet of ravaged rainforests and dying species defining the 21st century. It is no surprise then that a desire for sustainability has entered the public imagination, where owning a re-usable straw or two and making the weekly farmer’s market excursion has become, in a sense, trendy. Industries have not been one to miss out on this opportunity.
One industry which joined the epic movement for sustainability has been the business of fashion. In 2018 alone, the second hand business and trade made up to $24 billion, its revenue expected to nearly double in the coming years. Big department stores such as JC Penney and Macy’s have broadcast their plan to partner with online secondhand businesses like ThredUp, their aim being to stock their various US locations with pre-loved women’s clothing. More than anything, this appeal to kill fast fashion and introduce ethical practices has seen the greatest engagement in terms of the digital world.
Meet Maria Raga, CEO behind Gen Z’s most popular shopping app: Depop. Starting small as a mobile platform, the company has since taken the internet by storm with more than 140,000 secondhand articles listed daily. One report even found Depop to have amassed more than $500 million of gross merchandise value since its launch in 2011. And it hasn’t stopped there. The endless scroll of pre-loved Ralph Lauren jumpers, worn Prada handbags and scuffed Nike sneakers have become part of an international resale market which has taken over pop-up shops, fashion partnerships, campaigns and more. While similar to other shopping apps like Poshmark and Thredup, Depop in particular has done a good job catering towards a younger demographic. From its 15 million users, around 90% are in their mid-20s or under, a marketing ploy of no accident. Hoping to rouse that spirit of entrepreneurship in its users, the platform encourages successful enough sellers to launch merchandise lines, secure brand deals, and helps generate clout on other sites like Instagram or Youtube.
However, this platform (like many others), so bent on selling and purchasing articles in high vogue, has held damaging repercussions for the apparatus of secondhand recycling. Notorious for marking up prices beyond their recommended retail price (RRP), the Depop economy has completely reconfigured the concept of accessibility. This Wild West secondhand economy is depicted in the following case where one user, hoping to purchase a second cheap pair of tracksuit bottoms, found the item of clothing marketed out for nearly a hundred pounds. To add insult, the user had originally purchased the exact same pair from TK Maxx for only 16 pounds. As more charity shops tread into the digital arena, such as Cancer Research collaborating with Depop to target the young and trendy consumer, the ethos of low-priced, inexpensive rates gets lost in translation.
Thrifting cheap prices found at your local Goodwill, Oxfam or Barnardos, only to mark up these items in pitches of ‘y2k’ or ‘vintage’ trends, is nothing short of a practice of privilege and exploitation. What may be one person’s overpriced clutter could easily be another individual’s means of survival. Gentrification is becoming a lifestyle choice, and its consequences are being felt by the community’s most vulnerable, by those who have fallen behind in the cracks of capitalism. Moreover, as more thrift stores are being accused of raising prices to profit from the success of secondhand retail, a sinister motif emerges: To love thy wallet or thy planet more?
As the world enters a new normal in the context of the coronavirus pandemic, the situation has not fared well for those who rely on charity shops and the non-profit sector on a day to day basis. Early in the pandemic, with a sudden drop in employment affecting millions, food banks became a lifeline to many. Images of mile long car lines wrapping the highways of America as they queued for food collection and other basic necessities is symbolic of COVID-19’s toll. In a quick turnaround, notes chief executive of National Council of Nonprofits Tim Delaney, “people who used to donate to nonprofits are now standing in line to receive services, which tells you while demand is soaring the resources are plummeting.” The need for accessible and cheap goods has never been more prevalent, and yet this will not stop businesses from taking whatever means necessary to squeeze out a few big bucks.
While secondhand sellers can be tied to this growth of gentrification, it would be an unfair trial if we did not turn a critical gaze upon the fashion industry’s shocking waste problem as well. Around 85 percent of textile waste in the US, much of which is synthetic and non-compostable, goes straight to landfills or is simply incinerated. This doesn’t even include the waste that is dumped into fresh waters, seas and oceans. Dana Thomas, author of “Fashionopolis”, sheds light on the devastating system of exploitation which marks multi-million companies such as H&M, Zara and more; From Bangladeshi child laborers to low-paid immigrant workers in Los Angeles, Thomas reminds us of the horrific working conditions which accompany the textile industry. Much of fast fashion has morphed into a business which runs on the sweat, blood and tears of the voiceless and powerless, a system that cannot continue to be unaccounted for.
The question then remains: Does the negative impact of thrift shop gentrification outweigh the environmental benefits that come with second hand retail? Like most secondhand platforms, Depop started with the hope to challenge a huge, institutionalised body of fast fashion which held hegemony on the market. To a certain extent, they have also popularised the practice of going vintage, which effectively mitigates our contribution to fossil fuel production. However, it is equally important to take into consideration the power relations and complex of privilege which often characterizes these sites. Only when advocation for both marginalised communities and the planet takes place can we start to see a move in the right direction.
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