Something Old,something New

I remember playing dress-up with my grandmother’s chain-strap purse and drapey sari,soft with age,but way more glamorous to me than my mother’s handlooms.

Things get more complicated when you’re giving away clothes to people you know,but are not family. Is it acceptable to give lightly worn things to domestic help,as so many people here do? Clothes are such an intimate thing,they sit right there between your skin and your ­social self — so it feels weird and disrespectful to expect someone else to wear your discards. I’m comfortable with clothes being charitably sent over to others who might have some use for it — but I’d prefer it to be an ­abstract transaction between strangers.

Used clothes have long moved down the class ladder,and from the metropoles to the margins. It used to be hemmed in by trade laws and tariffs,but the flow of clothing from the US and Europe to the developing world has grown hugely since the mid-’90s. When there are societies of glut and societies of scarcity,sending stuff from one to another may make sense,and be kinder on the environment,but it’s still a bit troubling. When first-world consumers feel sated and sickened by their things,they clean them out to Goodwill or Salvation Army stores,which then sell them to recyclers and dealers who sort and export them to less lucky places around the world. Where they become new again,in a fresh context — sought after,exclaimed over,worn by new people.

The more disposable fashion becomes and the more trend cycles speed up,the greater the volume of such throwaways. (According to a George Packer piece in The New York Times,the categories at recycling factories include “premium”,for Asia and Latin America,“Africa A”,“Africa B”,and “wiper rag”.) Haiti,where bales and bales of used US clothes are sent every year,and made over to their own specifications,is the most fashion-forward nation in the Caribbean — and has a complicated take on second-hand clothing culture. They call it “pepe” or apparently even “wearing Kennedy”,because the government programme to donate began in JFK’s term. In Uganda,it’s called mivumba,in Zambia,it’s salaula. In the Philippines,it’s ukay-ukay. There are many who revile the pointlessness of many such items,the absurd costs of shipping and storing,and the fact that it snuffs out local industry. Others claim that the presence of donated clothes should not deter their own enterprise — there’s rarely a connection between the two.

Some people just can’t ignore the humiliation of wearing someone else’s cast-offs,the structural inequality of it — that some get to wear pristine,store-bought clothes,and others have to make do with the soiled and imprinted and made-over. For others,it’s a non-issue —clothing can be reused,improvised with,enjoyed,no ­matter where it’s from.

In India,it’s still unthinkable for the middle class to wear vintage. Export surplus is fine,but the idea that your clothes could have a past is not romantic,it’s revolting. But if you’re not terribly squeamish about the idea of other bodies,used clothing is a world of marvel and whimsy,far away from the lockstep of the high street. You can root around and find something distinctive from other times and places,‘60s beaded dresses or ‘70s fringed jackets or whatever you fancy,put together a vivid,memorable look from fashion flotsam. It’s also about thrift — if you’ve been priced out of the first retail cycle,then second-hand retailers and eBay are a way of accessing what you covet.

Ultimately,it’s about the judgements you make — old clothes scramble the categories of junk and treasure,intimate and tradable,upset the values first set by the market. An old dress may be worth more to you than anyone else would ever understand.

amulya.gopalakrishnan@expressindia.com