In most parts of the world today, thrifting isn’t just about buying secondhand; it’s a lifestyle, a sustainability statement, and even a form of creative self-expression.
Globally, thrift stores and curated vintage boutiques have become cultural landmarks, where fashion lovers search for one-of-a-kind pieces with stories woven into every seam. Yet in Sri Lanka, this thriving global trend seems to have only brushed the surface.
The world of thrifting
Locally, the word ‘thrift,’ or more commonly ‘pre-loved,’ still tends to evoke images of used household items exchanged on Facebook Marketplace, especially when families are moving abroad or clearing space in their homes. It’s common to find great deals on furniture, fridges, or beds, items with plenty of life left in them.
When it comes to clothing, however, Sri Lanka’s thrift scene is far more subdued. While a handful of Instagram-based thrift stores are beginning to emerge, particularly among young, sustainability-conscious consumers, the culture of buying pre-loved fashion has yet to fully take root.
Many Sri Lankans remain hesitant about wearing clothing that once belonged to someone else. There appears to be a cultural sentiment, often unspoken, that used garments carry personal histories best left untouched, and at times even considered unhygienic or something that is simply not done. It’s a perspective that has kept the practice of thrifting somewhat niche, despite the global movement towards sustainable fashion and waste reduction.
But as the world shifts towards conscious consumerism and as fashion cycles faster than ever, there is a growing realisation that thrifting is more than just secondhand shopping; it is a form of environmental and economic empowerment. Around the world, thrifting is seen as an antidote to fast fashion, helping to reduce textile waste, lower carbon emissions, and support circular economies where clothing is valued for its longevity, not its disposability.
In Sri Lanka, the early signs of a shift are visible. Young creators, small online sellers, and sustainability advocates are beginning to spotlight thrifting as an accessible, creative, and planet-friendly alternative. Whether it’s an old leather bag with character or a reworked saree turned into a skirt, these small movements hint at a future where pre-loved might just become the new trend.
The Sunday Morning Brunch reached out to some of our readers to explore what thrifting could mean for Sri Lanka and why some may feel reluctant to adopt it as a practice.
A matter of culture
For many Sri Lankans, thrifting isn’t yet second nature — largely because cultural traditions have long linked ‘new’ with ‘pure.’ Buying fresh clothes for Avurudu, weddings, and religious ceremonies is deeply rooted in our sense of renewal and respectability. The idea of wearing something previously owned by another still feels foreign to many, especially older generations.
Venessa Chandrasekaran shared how this mindset shaped her own upbringing.
“To be perfectly honest, I come from a very traditional Hindu family and my mother would lose her mind if she ever found out that I wore clothes that weren’t brand new,” she said. “For every event, we’d buy new clothes, for the New Year, for festivals, and I think it also ties into this religious idea of cleansing and new beginnings.”
She explained that while her friends enjoyed thrifting abroad, she was hesitant to try it herself. “When I lived with my mother, I was reluctant to buy secondhand clothes, even when I travelled. My friends loved thrifting in places like Japan, Singapore, and even Canada, where vintage clothes are beautiful and affordable, but I never bought anything.”
Now, however, living independently has shifted her perspective. “I absolutely adore thrifting,” she said. “There’s so much fabric waste in the world and fast fashion is a real menace. I think it’s important to buy secondhand clothes and give clothes the life they deserve until they can’t be worn anymore.”
A conditioned mindset
Similarly, Brunch spoke to Ranjan Weeraratne, who offered a candid take on the cultural hesitation surrounding thrifting.
“I am perfectly okay with buying thrifted or pre-loved items; in fact, I’ve actually furnished my entire apartment that way,” he shared. “But I don’t think I’ve ever in my life purchased clothes that are secondhand. I think it might be an internalised thing. I wonder if it’s a bit of classism as well – like, ‘why should I wear old clothes or someone else’s clothes?’”
Ranjan reflected that this attitude might not be personal but cultural. “I think it’s a mindset,” he explained. “If more people started doing it, if it became common practice, I think more and more people would lose this little shame they have.”
His observation highlights an important truth: for thrifting to become part of Sri Lanka’s mainstream fashion culture, it needs not just awareness but normalisation as well. As with most social habits, once it becomes visible and widely accepted, the stigma tends to fade.
Gender plays a part too
Harshana Wijesinghe offered a lighthearted but insightful perspective on how thrifting habits differed by gender.
“I think women have adopted this quite nicely because they already share clothes among each other,” he said. “My girlfriend borrows clothes from her friends all the time, sometimes they even buy things together so they can both wear them.”
He added: “I can’t think of a single time I’ve borrowed clothes from a friend. It’s definitely a mindset thing. Hopefully, we can make it more normal because the amount of fabric waste in the world is alarming.”
Harshana’s comment reflects a broader truth, that thrifting often comes easier to those already comfortable with sharing and reusing. As sustainability becomes more urgent, breaking down these old habits and gendered norms might be the next big step in helping Sri Lanka embrace a truly circular fashion culture.
Not ready yet, but halfway there?
Thrifting, by and large, remains a niche habit in Sri Lanka. While many countries celebrate secondhand fashion as a cultural norm, local attitudes still associate ‘new’ with purity and respectability. Most Sri Lankans are comfortable buying used household items but hesitate to wear pre-owned clothes due to cultural beliefs and hygiene concerns.
However, exposure to global thrift culture and awareness of fast fashion’s waste are shifting perspectives and younger generations are beginning to challenge these ideas. Some see the resistance as tied to class perceptions, while others highlight gender norms, with women more open to sharing and reusing clothing.
Though still small, Sri Lanka’s emerging thrift movement suggests a slow but steady shift towards sustainability, creativity, and cultural change in how fashion is valued.