From “Absolutely Not!” to Addicted: My Charity Shop Love Story

“We're going into a charity shop?? Absolutely not!”

A much younger me would whine relentlessly as my mum dragged me into a local one. Fast forward to today, and the idea of stepping into a charity shop fills me with excitement and that little thrill for a hidden gem waiting to be found.

Since leaving Leicestershire in 2019, I’ve grown to truly appreciate the charm of a good old village charity shop. I definitely took them for granted. Now, whenever I visit family, I’m the one dragging them into every local shop I can find. It’s funny how things flip—I’ve started to understand why my mum loved taking me. These days, I totally relate to her dislike of busy shopping centers: the harsh lighting and queues in Primark, or the sensory overload of seasonal sales... no thanks.

Charity shops are different. There’s a quiet joy in not knowing what you’ll find, who you’ll meet, or how a single item can inspire an entire outfit. Even the bric-a-brac gets me—handmade ceramics, quirky collectables, vintage oddities. Sometimes I wonder if the donors knew what they were giving away! A vintage fur coat? A hand-crocheted poncho? Even if I wouldn’t wear them, they’re irresistible impulse buys—whether to resell, gift, or just admire. And the price? Where else can you find something so unique for under £5?

What started as a solo hobby has become a social ritual. More of my friends now share the thrill, and just like that—boom!—we’ve got a full day out planned. It’s cheap, cheerful, and always full of laughter, whether we’re elbow-deep in a basket of scarves or hyping each other up between the rails. And the haul at the end? The haul. Nothing beats laying it all out afterwards like a dragon admiring its treasure.

Even when I go alone, there’s a mindful rhythm to it. On a day off, you’ll find me out the door, bags-for-life in hand, headphones on, podcast queued, ready to rummage. Then there’s the post-shop ritual: the show-and-tell, the laughter when others don’t quite see your vision (“trust the process!”), and that little thrill of googling how much something originally cost. I’d love to say I always buy with the intent to resell—but truthfully, I usually wear the pieces myself. 

Just look at the red handbag I picked up the other day. Do I sell it? Or just admire it and wait for the perfect moment to use it? I know the answer should be to sell it... but it's just too beautiful. I'll wait and see. 

Yes, the Vinted pile is growing. One day I’ll sort it. But for now? I indulge in the joy of the hunt and let charity shopping carry me through the chaos of everyday life. 

Wish me luck on my next rummage through the local treasure. 

L. Griff