One afternoon last month, I found myself waiting for a friend before dinner in a neighbourhood I don’t frequent very often. You know the struggle; you misjudged the time it takes to travel via public transportation and find yourself with 20 unwanted minutes to kill before your date (ok fine, probably more like 10 minutes; I’m always sprinting to meet friends because I’m awful at time management). Anyway.
It was one of those situations where you suddenly realise you look like a creeper just standing around outside a pizza shop for a few minutes too long. SO I DID WHAT ANY AMBITIOUS INTERN DID AND FOUND MYSELF BROWSING ITEMS AT A DINGY THRIFT SHOP I NEVER WOULD’VE ENTERED OTHERWISE. I quickly figured I’d wander up and down the stacks of rejects containing solely fast fashion rejects from god knows when and maybe come across a cool vintage tee shirt I could blog about or something.
Oh how wrong I was. Thrifting properly means skipping the clothing sections entirely The clothing rails were, well, exactly what you’d expect them to be.
Tons of outdated mall-brand tees from three summers ago, some obvious-brand-name stuff that was clearly worn once and thrown in the donate bin immediately after, and “vintage” pieces from the early 2000s that had been chemically treated to look older than they are (I know, what’s the deal with calling the 90s vintage already?).
Anyway, lots of cotton, some polyester, and nary a scrap of unique textile to be found.
Except……wait. What’s that sticking out behind that rumpled pile of granny florals? “A glorious unicorn jumps out of my closet!” is not what I screamed when I spotted the telltale denim scrap peeking out from between two flat sheets.
But only because I was in public. I pulled out the gorgeous indigo expanse of fabric and realised I was holding a hand-dyed textile with possibly the coolest shibori pattern I’d ever laid eyes on. Anthropologie would charge $200 for that as a home decor piece, but there it was in my hands.
Price cheque: $4.50 Mind. Blown. “How could I have missed this?” I thought, already rifling through the rest of the linen pile. Five minutes and $20 later, I walked out with that scarf and three other textiles that rivals it in quality: A vintage Indonesian batik print, an Indian cotton block-print with gold accents, and something else with embroidery so detailed I initially thought it was silk (it wasn’t, but hey! ).
It was only then, greedily pawing through polyester bedding and cotton tablecloths, that had my ah-ha moment: I had spent my entire thrifting life looking in the wrong place. Sure, you’ll score the occasional vintage Levi’s denim jacket or Cadillac Records-approved graphic tee, but the hidden gems are hiding out in plain sight, mixed in with the groceries at your local thrift store. If you know where to look.
The Textile Section, Thrift Edition Since that fateful afternoon, I’ve been religiously hitting up textile sections at thrift shops all over New York. You know the ones; they always seem to be located in the dingiest corner of the store, usually just after you pass the stale-smelling curtains but before you reach the slightly rusty pots and pans. Maybe it’s an entire rack or maybe it’s half of a bottom shelf, but there’s always a section labelled something like “LINENS & TEXTILES” in dry erase marker on a piece of cardboard.
It’s where the stained tablecloths go. Where you’ll find grandma’s crocheted bedspread from the 70s that she refuses to part with until it literally falls apart (but like, who are we kidding; when’s the last time you hung out in your grandma’s house? Donate these blankets, people).
It’s also, quite possibly, the single best thrift-shopping destination you’re ignoring. Vintage silk scarves from luxury brands tucked inside bin after bin of polyester curtains. Hand embroidered tablecloths from decades past that can be transformed into maxi skirts or wall hangings.
Wide swaths of kimono fabric that can be made into statement jackets. Indian saris with real gold zari embroidery that give you yards upon yards of the prettiest fabric known to mankind for a fraction of the price of new “artisanal” quilt fabric. Wool blankets that look like they can be worn as oversized scarves or shawls.
Linen tablecloths that feel like butter in your hands and will make you rethink everything you thought you knew about clothes. Seriously. Stop what you’re doing and cheque your local thrift store’s textile section right now. “I think part of the reason people skip over textiles when they thrift is because they’re not looking at fabric as fashion,” said Mei Lin, who owns Threadbare Studio in Brooklyn and upcycles thrifted textiles into one-of-a-kind clothing in her shop. “They see homegoods and think, ‘Oh, I don’t need anyone’s old tablecloth.’ Or they walk past curtains because they don’t understand that these pieces can be garments too.” Her mantra is one I’d heard several times over the course of my week of textile hunting: Look closer.
Learn to love linens Here’s the thing. If you don’t know a JOANN roll of sheet Fabric from real honest-to-goodness vintage silk, you’re probably going to walk right past the textile gold mine without even realising it. That vintage tablecloth in the “BOTTLINES” bin might not look like much on the surface, but flip it over and examine the edge.
Hand rolled hem? Good chance you’ve stumbled onto something handmade. That faded curtain could be natural linen you just can’t feel by running your fingernail along the edge.
That funky looking “decorative pillow” could be part of a kimono. “A lot of it comes down to using your sense of touch,” says Juana Rodriguez, a textile artist who also teaches DIY fashion classes on upcycling textiles. She instructs her students to rub fabrics between their fingers to determine what they’re working with. Silk often feels cool to the touch; wool usually has more heft and thickness to it. “You have to train your fingertips to recognise these fabrics,” she says.
Which brings me to my prized find of the past few weeks. The “decorative scarf” that I somehow talked my boyfriend into buying at Goodwill for $2 was in fact an authentic Hermes scarf; authentic as in from France and made in the 19 sixties authentic. Sure, it had a funky mustard-yellow colour that had clearly faded with age, and sure, there was a small wine stain in the corner (hence the likelihood it got tossed in with the towels and sheets instead of marked up as a luxury vintage find).
But I literally had a scarf made by Hermès in my hands for $2. “I wouldn’t know an Hermes scarf if it hit me in the face,” shrugged Josh, my ever-patient boyfriend who indulged me while I dug through Goodwill’s textile section for hours. He learned quickly, though. An honest q xTextile Sections Are Thrifter’s Best Friend Aside from my ever-growing vintage scarf collection, I now own vintage Hermes. “One of the biggest issues with thrift store employees is they typically don’t know about luxury brands,” says Sam Rivera, a former thrift store manager in New York who now runs Sew Give NYC, where he teaches sewing to kids.
Most people who work at thrift stores, he says, are sorting through large volumes of clothing and home goods as quickly as possible to price, tag, and get on truck. They’re not scrutinizing every shirt or linen for potential luxury finds; most donations that come through aren’t sorted by brand at all. They come in, they get sorted by category, and they head to the sales floor.
It’s not necessarily anyone’s fault; most thrift stores are operating on razor thin margins as is. That means pieces that aren’t obviously clothing get tossed in the textile section. That silk blouse your ex-boyfriend wore once and is now too small for?
Textiles. That vintage Chanel jacket your neighbour found at a flea market in Morocco and now wants to get rid of because it doesn’t fit her “throwback Thursday” aesthetic? Linens. “A lot of times people don’t realise what they have,” Mei Lin says.
Her favourite recent textile dept score? An Ikea duvet cover from the 90s that she turned into a pair of high-wasted wide leg jeans and a top. Beyond the occasional Hermès scarf snafu or Chanel jacket worthy of your own bespoke denim reincarnation, there’s a bounty of textiles just waiting to be turned into clothing.
And because textiles don’t often require alterations to fit (scarves into maxi dresses, curtains into shirt dresses, sheets into skirts, etc) the potential for really wild creativity here is limitless. “I taught this older woman once who found this huge vintage quilt in the shape of a house,” says Juana. “She cut it up, and with very little sewing we turned it into this amazing jacket!” Emma, a friend of mine who learned about my newfound textile love from me helping her clean out her parents’ closets for spring, was similarly inspired. She found a stack of vintage Peruvian hand woven wool blankets at her local goodwill and saw not blankets, but fashion. Fast. “I’m trying to get into zero waste fashion, so this really appealed to me,” she says of her firstTextile DIY project, a dress made from dismantling one of the woven blankets.
She used the original hem and fringe at the bottom of the blanket as design details on her wrap coat, looping it around her body rather than just leaving it hung down at the bottom. “Most people seeing this don’t realise it was actually a blanket.” Emma’s zoom-worthy wrap coat was made from scrap fabric other people donated to Goodwill. hers.Emma KenderlineOther people’s trash. Another huge bonus of thrift shopping the textile section? Sustainability.
Don’t get me wrong, thrifting is sustainable. Buying used keeps millions of pieces of clothing out of landfills every year. But what about all those clothes already in the landfill?
Textile recycling (which is different from donating because most textiles can’t be resold) is growing, but it’s not enough to handle current demand. According to the EPA, only 15% of all textile waste was recycled in 2018. When you shop the textile section, you’re doing more than just skipping ahead of the throngs of people rifling through the Junior’s racks for that perfect vintage Levi’s.
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You’re combating centuries of built-up textile waste by giving these materials new life. Hell, your textile turned clothing might one day be someone else’s vintage garment score! Look before you lease! “But not everyone has sewing skills,” you cry. hear you!
Trust me. Sewing machine? I own one but can barely operate it, let alone use it for anything that requires actual stitching skills.
Curious what you can do with zero sewing experience? Here are a few of my favourite no-sew finds from browsing the textile sections at thrift stores: Scarves: Scarves are literally worn as scarves! Look for silk scarves, wool scarves, linen scarves.
You name it, you can wear it. I’ve literally found Vera Neumann scarves (looking for her signature embroidered stamp on the corner!) dozens of times in random textile piles throughout NYC. They make great neck scarves, or you can wear them as headscarves, knot them onto purse handles, even frame them as wall art.
Scarves can be garments too, people! Tablecloths: Speaking of garments, wrap an oversized tablecloth around your body and boom: instant maxi dress! Round tablecloths can make beautiful wrap-skirts (or “capes” if you’re feeling particularly adventurous).
Do it up with a fancy belt and you’ve got yourself one of a kind piece that looks like it cost you way more than thrifting fees. Curtains: Drape a beautifully textured curtain panel around your shoulders and you’ve got yourself a gorgeous oversized shirt or dress. Best of all, you don’t need to know how to sew to do it!
Take a curtain panel to your local tailor and have them make simple adjustments to turn it into a garment. It’ll cost you less than buying new (and supports a local small business while you’re at it! ). Sheets: Speaking of buying new, vintage sheets often have WAY higher thread counts than even high-end “luxury” sheets you’d find at Target.
Since I’ve started shopping textile sections I’ve scored cotton sheets that feel so soft, they’re like wearing a giant silky shirt. Turn them into actual shirts! Dresses!
Nightgowns! Matchy matchy set with matching vintage pillowcases. The possibilities are limitless.
Hell, even if you don’t modify these textile finds at all you’re still getting some serious mileage out of your dollars. Use vintage tablecloths as oversized scarves. Drape beautiful blankets around your shoulders as shawls.
There are tons of ways to incorporate found textiles into your wardrobe, even if you don’t plan on altering them yourself. Again, it’s all about seeing past the intended use. “I feel like people these days see clothes as these finished products they have to purchase as-is,” says vintage dealer Anita Chen, who resells vintage textiles on her Etsy shop (many of which have been upcycled into clothing by Mei Lin). “You look at a tablecloth and all you picture is ‘Oh, I need a tablecloth for my table.’ But I look at that tablecloth and think jacket. Or skirt.
Or pillow.” Prices also tend to be way lower in the textile section One thing I will say about clothing versus textiles: Prices have Increased dramatically over the past few years at my local thrift stores, in part thanks to popularization of secondhand shopping (hello, hype dressing*) and rampant reseller culture. People aren’t messing around when they’re roaming the thrift store racks looking for that vintage Levi’s jacket to flip online. Textile sections, on the other hand?
Still a steal. “One of the reasons we price things so low in the textile section is because honestly, no one buys them,” laughed Sam Rivera, who started drastically reducing the prices on textiles when he worked at his Brooklyn thrift store and saw nothing but dust collectors on the shelves. “We price things to move here. Take that tablecloth that’s been sitting on the shelf since forever? It’ll probably never sell if we mark it $5.
Someone’s gotta actually fight over that Levi’s jacket!” Indeed. The weeks I spent solely hunting textiles at thrift stores has yielded enough potential projects that I’ve had to enact a strict “one in, one out” policy with my vintage textiles. I recently scored a vibrant peacock pattern block-printed Indian cotton bedspread from the 1970s that I’m planning on turning into a dress, skirt, and maybe two tops.
All for $6.99. That’s right. Nearly $7 bucks for enough fabric to make THREE articles of clothing I would’ve otherwise bought new.
If you’ve been inspired to start digging through those “LINENS & TEXTILES” aisles at your local thrift store, here are a few tips to help you get started: Natural fibres only. Trust me, you’ll know when you find them. Natural fabrics have a different hand (feel) to them than synthetic textiles.
Silks and linens feel cool and smooth to the touch. Cottons and wools are often thicker and heavier than man-made fabrics. When in doubt, flip the fabric over and run your fingernail along the edge.
Natural fabrics have texture you can feel; synthetic fabrics slide right off. Inspect the finishing work. A lot of old textiles still contain signs of the work that went into creating them, even if they’re secondhand drapes you found for cheap.
Look for things like hand rolled hem on scarves, french seams on linens, or handmade embroidery on crazy pillowcases. It’s OK if it’s damaged. Maybe that vintage silk scarf you’ve been coveting has a small wine stain on it, or that Indonesian batik print tablecloth you love has a small hole.
Don’t sweat it! Most vintage silks and linens are easily washed at home (more on how to properly wash vintage textiles without destroying them here), and if you’re careful about how you cut your new DIY clothing item you can easily design around damaged areas. The scarf I turned into a kimono style jacket?
Had a huge rip near one end of it.
Sure I had to cut it off, but that just made my jacket have fun, unique detail nobody else’s will have!
Educate yourself on different textiles and origins.
I’m still fairly new to the whole textile hunting game, but there are certain patterns and prints I can spot a mile away and know they’re likely high-quality pieces of vintage cloth. Batik prints from Indonesia, traditional block printing from India, Shibori from Japan, Ikat from Central Asia; each region has distinct textile art that you can learn to identify by taking a quick Pinterest dive. One of my favourite textiles related books is Anita’s own Vintage Textiles of Japan guide; packed with interesting photos and information on Japanese textile arts fromkimono to zokin.
Bring a tape measure. Or, like me, just keep one in your purse at all times for occasions such as this. I always know exactly how much fabric I’m dealing with when I dig through textiles because I measure, mid-shopping trip, everything I think I could possibly turn into a garment or accessory.
That remnant looking like so much fabric might only be yard and a half, which isn’t quite enough to make the kimono style jacket you were imagining. That’s right folks: scrolling through racks of unwanted bedding and vaguely staining tablecloths has officially become my new favourite hobby. Hell, that same indigo dye Japanese cotton jumper vest now resides in my closet, and it makes an appearance as my go-to “artist wrap scarf” in at least half of my Instagram photos.
Hell, the vintage Pucci scarf I unearthed from my closet o’ polyester nightmares is now hanging in beautiful decadence above my desk, regularly prompting fashion editor friends visiting my home to ask where I got it. Thrifting textiles has changed the way I look at clothes, and now that you’ve read this far into this incredibly TL;DR blog post, it can change yours too. “There are so many possibilities when you start digging through textiles,” Mei Lin said to me one day as we hunched over bins of old lace and crocheted swatches. “You just have to look close.”
