Preloved actually: 17 cool people we follow share their secondhand picks on every continent

My mom and I still thrift together.

If we slow down our relationship with stuff, we can think more clearly about what we actually want.

Rather than impulse, shopping is like falling in love; it pays to be selective about who and what you fall for.

The most popular thrift store chain in Hong Kong is called Mee & Gee. They have branches littered throughout the city. Prices for the clothing are cheap — plenty of items sell for less than 50 HKD, or about $6.50, the price some might spend on an expensive coffee. Occasionally I shop there, but more often than not, their patrons are migrant domestic workers from the Philippines, searching for new wardrobe items at a bargain price. I like to think of stores like Mee & Gee as capturing the real purpose of circular fashion: creating value out of pre-loved items and giving access to style to people who otherwise wouldn't have been able to afford it.

On the second floor of Mee & Gee's flagship branch, there's an entire rack of used jackets from the Chinese coast guard. I often wonder who's buying them.

I'm currently splitting my time between France and Senegal — Dakar, more specifically — and I have to say that Dakar is one of my favourite places for the secondhand market.

Many of the treasures in my wardrobe come from hours spent in markets around the city (and even across the country) digging through piles of secondhand clothes sent from the Global North. I'm usually the first to denounce this system, as it is deeply rooted in neo-colonial dynamics. However, you do stumble upon unique and priceless pieces that have aged beautifully. What is unfortunate is that, with the growing circulation of fast fashion, the overall quality of garments has drastically decreased.

What makes the experience truly special is the ambiance. Dakar's markets are filled with unique vendors, each with their own strong personality. It's a social experience, of course, but not only that — it's also a sonic experience, an olfactory experience. Unlike the more formal secondhand shops in the West, the environment plays a huge role in shaping the overall experience, and that's what makes it so unique.

I now have my stands and addresses around the city, so it's a whole journey every time. But the coolest thing I ever found were two Balenciaga City bags. It was more than a year and a half ago, and since then, they've become my go-to bags. They travel with me everywhere.

I love Salon Archive, an independent treasure trove that strictly sells archival Vivienne Westwood, Jean Paul Gaultier, and John Galliano. The owner, Daniel, is a true fashion enthusiast. Their sartorial knowledge is unmatched, and their enthusiasm is palpable.

I loved seeing one of Gaultier's '80s conical bras in the flesh. It truly felt like seeing a piece of history.

My favourite vintage shop in Cedar Rapids is Found+Formed. I truly believe the best treasures are found in Midwestern vintage shops, and I've found so many pieces here over the last decade.  The owner Gail is an absolute treasure and has become a dear friend, and going in there just puts a smile on my face.

It's hard to pick just one find in the world of vintage, but I found my perfect chocolate brown suede fringe jacket at Found+Formed (I’m wearing it here). This jacket came from an older gentleman named Robert who had an incredible collection of leather and suede jackets in every imaginable style, truly a lifelong collection. I'm so pleased to have a small piece of Robert's collection in my own closet, and I love when a vintage piece has a special story and I get to be a part of carrying on its narrative.

The market I love shopping from the most is Gikomba Market in Nairobi because it gives me access to variety as well as choice. If I say I want a cotton t-shirt and go around the market, I'll come across everything in this category ranging from oversized to torn to stained. But I can also get a t-shirt the way I like it: a plain colour, in good condition, and just the right fit. I only have to be patient and try more than one retailer. That's also what makes shopping in a secondhand market interesting; you have to be intentional and take time to buy something you know you'll love and wear for a long time.

There are these women in the market who upcycle mostly oversized sweats into kids' clothing. It's really fascinating because you see them freehanding the designs and sewing them together. No pattern, no size chart — only a pair of scissors and the memory of cutting and stitching the pieces together in fun colours and patterns that somehow work well together.

VON Vintage in Vesterbro. They have a great assortment of styles, some fancier pieces and some more accessible ones (within the context of a well-curated vintage store). The people who run it also seem lovely.

When I moved to Copenhagen from Melbourne last year, I discovered quickly that I simply did not have a winter coat that was going to keep me warm enough. As someone who won't wear any animal-derived materials (even if they're vintage — I don't want to perpetuate the notion of skins as an acceptable material) but also didn't want to buy something new made from synthetic (don't want to fund the fossil fuel industry), coats are hard.

VON was the first store on my list on "operation find a coat day," and I found an excellent, high-quality Danish brand coat that mimics sheepskin, made from a synthetic material. Not perfect, but I'm not machine-washing my coat and it's not a high-shed material. I love it.

This is such a difficult question because Lancaster County is a paradise for secondhand shopping. We have several incredible thrift stores that are part of the MCC Thrift network, plus a wide array of vintage shops, flea markets, and antique malls. And yard sale season (the summer) is my favourite time of year.

My favourite secondhand shop is the State Theatre Vintage Emporium in Columbia. It's actually in an old theatre, which gives the space an interesting layout. It's full of incredibly well-curated booths of vintage clothing, books, toys, and other collectibles. I love that all of the vendors are local microbusinesses. Columbia is also a cute town full of antique malls, vintage stores, and an ice cream shop that has been open for more than a century. There is also an MCC thrift store down the block from the State Theatre Vintage Emporium.

Atomic Tiger Vintage is one of my favourite booths in the emporium. She makes and sells these weird but amazing "ball babies" — doll heads turned into one-of-a-kind decor with midcentury trims and materials. I have one hanging above my desk right now that brings me joy every day.

I should probably gatekeep, but I've been going to Junkie Charity Shop for over ten years at this point — so the cat's been well out of the bag for longer than I know. It was the first thrift store I ever discovered when I started learning about fashion, resale, and sustainability in high school.

Today, they've moved to Linden, Johannesburg, where they were previously working out of a converted house in Melville. They've always been such a staple of central Johannesburg to me, and you always get a sense that they have all of the city's most incredible treasures — from clothing to books to bric-a-brac.

It's so difficult to think of a single thing because I've purchased everything from rare photography books like A Day In the Life of South Africa (which includes hundreds of photographs all taken across the country on the same day in 1982), to leather trunks in perfect condition with secret locking systems, to Indian 100% silk paintings.

But I will pick one: a mint green, circa 1970s Singer sewing machine in working condition (Junkie makes sure to have all donated machines serviced). It looks exactly like if a VW Bug was a sewing machine.

Mercy Vintage in Oakland. It's got incredible curation, especially for artsy fucks like myself. The space is beautiful, the clothes are weird, and there's nothing more I need.

The coolest thing — which a dear friend had the kindness to actually buy for me — was a Saxony sweater with leather details that I can't describe. It has notorious feline scam artist Top Cat on it.

La Lagunilla Market in Mexico City. It's one of the most interesting places in terms of finding antique furniture, vintage clothes, accessories (so many beaded bags and clip earrings!), and upcoming designers working with upcycling. Rumour has it Jeremy Scott and other big fashion personalities have spent some time there.

Honestly, it's such a surreal place — you can find people drinking Kitty chelas (Hello Kitty–inspired beers), browsing for old Singer sewing machines, or meeting the new generation of young Mexican designers cutting their teeth by making pieces with political statements and selling their art.

The Sue Ryder charity shop in Altrincham, south of Manchester, is an absolute treasure trove. The staff put in such a lot of effort to curate an incredible vintage section — true vintage, not ten-year-old Primark. It's full of exactly the kind of stuff I love: '80s/'90s blazers and really good knits. But they've also got '50s gowns, cute little '60s suitcases, and '70s blouses.

And it's not just clothes, shoes, and accessories; there's also a haberdashery stuffed full of vintage sewing patterns, fabrics, yarn, trims, buttons, and threads, which I can (and do) spend a lot of time rooting through.

A gold leather (probably late '90s era) suit that words simply will not do justice. It was too small for me. Sob.

Vintage on High in Fremantle, a tiny port town just south of Perth in Western Australia, where I grew up. It's got a really eclectic mix of pieces that range from kitsch and costume-y (think jazzy '80s ball gowns and cowboy boots) to very wearable staples (vintage tees, silk shirts and lots of denim). They also sell furniture, homeware, books, accessories and handbags, so I pretty much always find something to take home.

It's right in the heart of Fremantle's High Street, a lovely strip of cafes, bookstores and art galleries, and more to spend a sunny afternoon exploring.

Vintage on High has a great array of beautiful old glo-mesh clutches and tiny bags, perfect for weddings and events. I might be a minimalist dresser, but I'm a sucker for a shiny gold bag — especially if it's super impractical and fits almost nothing.

Hola Aida in San Juan is a pop-up and by-appointment vintage shop that I've been buying from for years, usually via DM or at various sustainable fashion events in the city.

Between homewares, jewelry and the clothes, it's hard to say, but I am most in love (perhaps strangely) with the orange men's LL Bean chore coat with a corduroy collar that I got there before chore coats were going viral. I had a sense, and the sense was backed up by the fact that it would always be a very "me" item for fall on Long Island. Oh, and I can't forget the Brooks Brothers tuxedo shirt that I'm holding onto for my next book tour.

Hollywood Vintage, which is in my old neighbourhood and has held up over the years with a regular rotation of weird and nostalgic finds from a lot of different vendors. It's fun to wander and get lost in there, sifting through '80s memorabilia and realising your childhood dELiA*s brochures and low-rise flare jeans are now considered hot vintage items. (I'll never go back!)

I'm not sure if it's one thing that's the coolest, just the vortex I feel I'm falling into whenever I go in. Stores like these are one of the reasons I was so enamoured with Portland when I first came. Think cat paintings balanced on plant stands next to rows of vintage wedges and cowboy boots; rows of VHS tapes and staticky TVs; home goods and clothes from what feels like any era, back when things were made well and to last forever.

My main secondhand wonders are JetRag and the Rose Bowl Flea Market in my adopted hometown of Los Angeles. The Rose Bowl Flea Market is the final boss of all secondhand and vintage, largely because it's a dumping pile for locals — and the world, which is why people fly there to buy and sell.

 Rose Bowl Flea is a particularly special place for picking up vintage notions (some amazing patches to be found here!), along with everything from one-off oddities (I bought an abstract camo coat years ago that I haggled down to $50) to alt-design finds (I once scored a pair of Yuketen shoes, which I sadly sold years ago).

I'm not sure what it is, but Vermont has always been home to some of my favourite secondhand stores. Old Gold in Burlington is a curated treasure trove, but not in that curated-equals-overpriced way. The Goodwill in Bennington will always hold fond memories for me. It's also objectively great.

A wall of vintage Levi's under $100 at Old Gold. These days, that's a spectacle.

I have plenty of secondhand shops in Latin America that are very close to my heart. In Bogotá, I like Closet Up, which has a very good selection of designer pieces at fantastic prices, therefore supporting local economies. If I can add another: my favourite secondhand shop of all is Recicla in Montevideo, Uruguay; it's women-owned, and the customer experience is fantastic. They also have one store with a more conceptual tone, with a variety of items beyond just fashion, which makes it even more special.

What I like most about these stores is finding very unique and interesting pieces that could have been lost in the sea of new clothing in big stores. The curation is done and ready for you to dig into what's most special. Moreover, when the stores are clean, conceptual, and beautiful, the whole experience gains more value.

I adore Hey Cowboy! on Cheshire Street. Founder Ed describes it as a “personal collection gone mad.” He has such an affinity for Western wear and a deep knowledge of it (he's published a whole style guide on the website). It speaks to my own appreciation for Americana, which is hard to come by in good quality and authenticity on this side of the pond. I especially love Ed's approach to outlining the Hey Cowboy! values, too.

A pair of Shania Twain–coded leopard print boots. Alas, they were too big for me. I got a gorgeous Western shirt with silver piping and embroidery on the yokes, and am just waiting for the right party to wear it to.