Is Gen Z killing vintage fashion?

Alicia Siemens puts her arm back in the sagging bag of flannel and graphic tees to pull a periwinkle something< /em> out of the stack. She holds it to her chest to reveal a floral-print peasant dress from the 1970s. "There are stains," she says, touching a yellowing lace collar, "But we should be able to do something with it."< /p>

Siemens throws the dress in a nearby basket along with a dozen other items that she and her colleague Amanda Sanchez have set aside: a worn t-shirt that says "It's not who you are, it's what you...WEAR", a crinkle cashmere cardigan, cargo pants from the 90s. Behind her, dozens of piles of used clothes from six feet tall, tightly wrapped in tattered blankets and bound with thread, waiting to be released.

As a vintage buyer for Reformation, it's Seimens' job to scour public and private rag houses like this for find unique pieces. She visits several unmarked warehouses on the outskirts of Los Angeles each week, spending four to five hours going through bales of various clothes, sometimes sorted, sometimes unsorted, usually dirty.

Most warehouses have no air conditioning or heating. Today, in the scorching heat of mid-August, the piles were moved outside under a tarp. A manager checks on her, while another warehouse worker uses a forklift to stack the bales. Each package is not labeled. They don't tell Siemens where they get their supplies from, and they don't ask.

vintage shoppers in a rag house

Alicia Siemens (left) and Amanda Sanchez at a rag house near Los Angeles.

Courtesy

Between these private shopping appointments, Siemens will visit thrift stores, shop at friends' vintage stores, or call contacts with niche specialties - her denim guy, her sunglasses guy (Sanchez's shadow-tinted glasses are a few of hers: "Gucci, bay-bee!").

Reformation resells almost anything its vintage buyers can find. Some of them are sold as "one of a kind", the brand's word for true vintage, either online or at one of its dedicated vintage stores in Los Angeles, New York or London. It also sells “upcycled styles” – items cut from existing clothing that the vintage team transforms into new pieces. Next is “remade,” where rolls of unsold fabric are used to produce popular Reformation designs or vintage-inspired silhouettes. Occasionally, the team stumbles upon loose basics — a few hundred vintage tank tops or sweatshirts — which they sell as a "dead bundle." Each of these items are hand purchased by Reformation's vintage buyers. They are a team of three.

Siemens again pulls from the pile, this time a worn graphic t-shirt. "See, it's old." She runs her fingers along the hemline, emphasizing its unique point. The front features an armadillo on two legs, casually smoking a cigarette, and reads: "From the heart of Texas." "So am I," she says, and just like that, it's in the cart.

Siemens and Sanchez move quickly, often without looking at clothes. They go by touch and feel, recognizing the cashmere or cotton twill of muscle memory.

"Alicia is the queen of textiles", says Sanchez.

"I can do denim without thinking", says Siemens, "t-shirts slow you down, though. You have to stop and read them ."

It's 10 a.m., and they're already halfway there with their first bullet. The goal is to clear at least three more to reach their monthly goals (while she won't be giving hard numbers...

Is Gen Z killing vintage fashion?

Alicia Siemens puts her arm back in the sagging bag of flannel and graphic tees to pull a periwinkle something< /em> out of the stack. She holds it to her chest to reveal a floral-print peasant dress from the 1970s. "There are stains," she says, touching a yellowing lace collar, "But we should be able to do something with it."< /p>

Siemens throws the dress in a nearby basket along with a dozen other items that she and her colleague Amanda Sanchez have set aside: a worn t-shirt that says "It's not who you are, it's what you...WEAR", a crinkle cashmere cardigan, cargo pants from the 90s. Behind her, dozens of piles of used clothes from six feet tall, tightly wrapped in tattered blankets and bound with thread, waiting to be released.

As a vintage buyer for Reformation, it's Seimens' job to scour public and private rag houses like this for find unique pieces. She visits several unmarked warehouses on the outskirts of Los Angeles each week, spending four to five hours going through bales of various clothes, sometimes sorted, sometimes unsorted, usually dirty.

Most warehouses have no air conditioning or heating. Today, in the scorching heat of mid-August, the piles were moved outside under a tarp. A manager checks on her, while another warehouse worker uses a forklift to stack the bales. Each package is not labeled. They don't tell Siemens where they get their supplies from, and they don't ask.

vintage shoppers in a rag house

Alicia Siemens (left) and Amanda Sanchez at a rag house near Los Angeles.

Courtesy

Between these private shopping appointments, Siemens will visit thrift stores, shop at friends' vintage stores, or call contacts with niche specialties - her denim guy, her sunglasses guy (Sanchez's shadow-tinted glasses are a few of hers: "Gucci, bay-bee!").

Reformation resells almost anything its vintage buyers can find. Some of them are sold as "one of a kind", the brand's word for true vintage, either online or at one of its dedicated vintage stores in Los Angeles, New York or London. It also sells “upcycled styles” – items cut from existing clothing that the vintage team transforms into new pieces. Next is “remade,” where rolls of unsold fabric are used to produce popular Reformation designs or vintage-inspired silhouettes. Occasionally, the team stumbles upon loose basics — a few hundred vintage tank tops or sweatshirts — which they sell as a "dead bundle." Each of these items are hand purchased by Reformation's vintage buyers. They are a team of three.

Siemens again pulls from the pile, this time a worn graphic t-shirt. "See, it's old." She runs her fingers along the hemline, emphasizing its unique point. The front features an armadillo on two legs, casually smoking a cigarette, and reads: "From the heart of Texas." "So am I," she says, and just like that, it's in the cart.

Siemens and Sanchez move quickly, often without looking at clothes. They go by touch and feel, recognizing the cashmere or cotton twill of muscle memory.

"Alicia is the queen of textiles", says Sanchez.

"I can do denim without thinking", says Siemens, "t-shirts slow you down, though. You have to stop and read them ."

It's 10 a.m., and they're already halfway there with their first bullet. The goal is to clear at least three more to reach their monthly goals (while she won't be giving hard numbers...

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