Okay, so I need to confess something that might sound absolutely ridiculous coming from someone who regularly drops $300 on Theory blazers: I am completely obsessed with charity shops. I mean, genuinely addicted to the point where my colleagues think I’ve lost it when I tell them about scoring a pristine MaxMara coat for eight pounds in some random Oxfam in York during business school.
That coat find happened during what was supposed to be a serious research trip – you know, the kind where you’re meant to be focused on academic pursuits and building your professional network. Instead, I spent my lunch break wandering around charity shops because, honestly, the library was depressing and I needed retail therapy on a student budget. This elderly volunteer took one look at my Harvard ID and basically gave me the friends-and-family discount on what turned out to be a 1970s Jaeger wool coat that I wore until it literally fell apart. Eight pounds. For something that looked like vintage Max Mara and kept me warm through Boston winters for the next five years.
That find basically ruined me for regular shopping. I mean, why pay full price when there are treasures hiding in plain sight? And once you develop an eye for it – which, trust me, is a learnable skill – charity shopping becomes this weird treasure hunt that’s way more exciting than scrolling through Net-a-Porter at 2 AM after a particularly brutal day at the office.
Here’s what I’ve learned after basically touring every decent charity shop from London to Edinburgh: these places aren’t random jumble sales. They’re like… ecosystem reflections of their neighborhoods. Rich areas equal better donations, obviously, but it’s more complicated than that. You’ve got your affluent commuter towns where finance people like me dump barely-worn workwear. University towns with their vintage goldmines from students clearing out. Retirement hotspots where people are downsizing decades of accumulated quality stuff. It’s actually fascinating from a demographic standpoint, which probably says something about how my brain works.
Farnham in Surrey is basically the holy grail of charity shop towns. I’m not even exaggerating – the ratio of charity shops to regular shops is almost perfect, and the local demographic is wealthy commuters plus retirees with excellent taste. Found a Mulberry Bayswater bag there for forty pounds last year. Forty pounds! Do you know what those retail for? Nearly a thousand. My friend Emma (also in finance, also slightly unhinged about charity shopping) found a complete Denby pottery set for twenty-five pounds. The trick is hitting all eight shops in sequence because each one has developed its own specialty somehow.
Bath knows what it’s doing, which is both good and annoying. The charity shops there are way too savvy about designer labels, so you’re not getting the insane bargains you might find elsewhere. But the vintage selection? Incredible. Especially for 1960s and 70s pieces from older residents clearing out decades-old wardrobes. I found this perfect Aquascutum trench for thirty pounds that I still get compliments on. The Julian House shop on Walcot Street is my go-to, though you need to venture away from the tourist areas for the real finds.
Totnes in Devon is completely unexpected. It’s this tiny alternative town that somehow has charity shops filled with barely-worn Barbour jackets and handmade pottery that would cost five times as much in London boutiques. The demographic is ex-Londoners, artistic types, and locals with surprisingly sophisticated taste. Their Oxfam bookshop is dangerous – I’ve found fashion photography books there that sell for over £100 online.
Harrogate sits in my personal top five because it has this perfect storm of wealthy residents who value quality over trends. The Save the Children shop regularly has cashmere from Brora and Johnstons of Elgin for under thirty pounds. Under thirty pounds! That’s less than what I spend on lunch most days. Their St Michael’s Hospice shop is amazing for occasion wear – perfect when you need something for work events and don’t want to drop $400 on something you’ll wear twice.
Edinburgh deserves its own category entirely. Stockbridge has charity shops so good they literally run organized tours, though I prefer wandering around myself because half the fun is the discovery process. The Stockbridge Shelter Scotland shop is probably the most carefully curated charity shop in the UK – it’s like shopping at a boutique except everything costs under twenty pounds. Found a Margaret Howell blouse there that I wear to client meetings regularly.
Oxford obviously benefits from the university connection, but it’s the mix of international students, academics, and affluent locals that creates this perfect donation storm. The famous Oxfam bookshop on St Giles gets all the attention, but the smaller shops in Jericho are where the real treasures hide. My friend Laura – who literally tracks her charity shop finds in a spreadsheet because we’re all slightly obsessive – found her wedding shoes there. Jimmy Choos, unworn, fifty pounds.
Leamington Spa punches way above its weight for charity shopping. The British Red Cross there has incredible menswear – my boyfriend found an unworn Paul Smith suit for sixty pounds, which is less than what he usually spends on dress shirts. The local animal charity shops have amazing homewares, probably from all the affluent empty-nesters in the area.
Here’s my dark horse recommendation: Burnham Market in Norfolk. It’s literally just one Sue Ryder shop in a tiny village, but it’s legendary among serious charity shop people because of all the wealthy second-home owners donating their London castoffs. You’ll be competing with actual dealers though, so timing matters. I’ve learned to check their Facebook page for new stock announcements.
The wealthy London suburbs can be incredible but they know their worth. Wimbledon Village’s charity shops are notorious for barely-worn designer pieces, though they price accordingly. The Mary Portas Save the Children shops have basically elevated charity shopping to boutique level, which is both impressive and slightly defeats the point if you ask me.
Whitstable in Kent rewards dedicated hunting with amazing vintage kitchenware finds. I’ve built most of my entertaining collection from their charity shops – 1950s Midwinter pottery, perfect condition Le Creuset, all for fractions of retail prices. The Pilgrims Hospice shop has the best clothing, while Cats Protection excels in books and homewares.
My true sleeper pick is Beverley in East Yorkshire. Six excellent charity shops within walking distance, mix of affluent professionals and country estate types, and barely any competition from London weekenders. Found a perfect 1980s Barbour there for twenty-five pounds that would have cost ten times that in a Shoreditch vintage shop.
The real magic isn’t just the bargains though – it’s the unexpected discoveries. Things you never knew you wanted until you see them sitting there for three pounds. I’ve accidentally started collections of vintage fashion books, Victorian silver pieces, mid-century ceramics, all because something caught my eye in a charity shop somewhere. There’s also something satisfying about the sustainability aspect that appeals to my practical side, even while I’m still buying full-price Theory blazers for work.
My apartment now contains treasures from charity shops across the country. That original Jaeger coat finally gave up after five years of Boston winters. Vintage silk scarves from Bath and Edinburgh that I wear to work meetings. 1960s coffee cups from Totnes that make my morning routine slightly more elegant. None cost more than twenty pounds, all bring me disproportionate joy, and each has its own story attached.
Look, I know this probably sounds slightly unhinged coming from someone who works in finance and can afford to shop normally. But there’s something addictive about the hunt, the unexpected finds, the stories behind the pieces. Plus, honestly? Some of my best conversation starters at work events have been vintage charity shop finds. Clients love hearing about the eight-pound coat or the fifty-pound Jimmy Choos.
So next time you’re traveling around the UK, consider factoring in some charity shop reconnaissance. You might discover something that becomes a wardrobe staple for years while supporting good causes. And if you see someone with multiple tote bags speed-walking between charity shops with a slightly manic expression, that’s probably me. Feel free to say hello, but understand if I seem distracted – I’ve just spotted a promising Shelter shop and there could be cashmere calling my name.
By day, Jasmine works in finance. By night, she writes about making corporate fashion actually interesting. Her Boston wardrobe proves office-appropriate doesn’t have to mean boring, and that investment dressing can be both powerful and personal.
