The British magazine The Spectator (spectator.com) recently published a commentary defending the Lithuanian second-hand platform Vinted. The first hard figure the article offers: about 17.4 million Britons use Vinted, making the platform the UK's third-largest fashion retailer, behind only Primark and Next. The author argues that Vinted has achieved what eBay and its peers only dreamed of—making online second-hand shopping the norm.

The article's core argument addresses two recent criticisms of Vinted. The first is the notion of "Vinted Brain," which accuses the app of fueling compulsive shopping, undercutting charity shops, and generating mountains of parcels and packaging. The author concedes that some people do develop an unhealthy dependence on shopping, but this problem is essentially a matter of addiction and should not be used to make everyone who buys a second-hand cardigan feel guilty. In the author's view, Vinted is merely the latest technological form of an age-old British habit: buying, selling, haggling, and making a little pocket money.

The second concerns the environmental benefits. The article notes that Vinted is not automatically green just because it extends the life of clothing—buying a pile of dresses you don't need also carries an environmental cost, especially in packaging and delivery. But the author asks: compared with what? If you genuinely need a coat, not buying it on Vinted won't conjure an extra coat out of thin air; a coat moving from one person's wardrobe to another's at least avoids being discarded, and may also avoid the purchase of a brand-new coat and the resources and energy it requires. The conclusion: the environmental gains are not absolute, but they are not fictitious either.

The author also uses a set of everyday examples to argue for the legitimacy of resale: an Instagram blogger bought a plastic toy at a local charity shop for 50 pence and resold it on Vinted for £10, raising money for a trip to Japan. Some accused her of "ripping off" the charity shop, but the author counters that the charity shop set the price at 50 pence and already received 50 pence; the seller merely discovered that someone elsewhere was willing to pay more. This is arbitrage, and it does not lose its legitimacy just because the item is a plastic toy. Charity shops are constrained by geography; Vinted is not: a buyer in Newcastle can find a seller in Croydon, and a seller in Cornwall can sell an old sweater to someone in Glasgow.

The article also acknowledges that Vinted may siphon off charity shops' best stock, but second-hand retail has always depended on where you hunt: in Chelsea you might dig up a vintage Barbour jacket, while elsewhere in London you might have only seventeen Primark cardigans to choose from. At the same time, those who want to support charities can still donate directly—the two are not mutually exclusive.

On the economic level, the author stresses that a £60 handbag buried deep in the wardrobe is economically useless; sell it for £30 and you can trade it for a dinner, a train ticket, or—as the author herself did—part of the £102 passport renewal fee. With cost-of-living pressures still high, buying something for 50 pence at a charity shop and selling it for double on Vinted is, for some people, a supplement to their livelihood.

The closing judgment is blunt: the British have not suddenly developed "Vinted Brain"; they are simply doing what they have always done—buying and selling, and trying to make a few quid. The only difference is that where they once had to set up a stall at a car-boot sale, now they can do it from the sofa. This "nation of shopkeepers" has gone digital—may it keep trading for a long time to come.

Source: Don't feel guilty for shopping on Vinted · Originally published 2026-09-23