At the St Raphael's Hospice charity shop in Cheam, south London, an average of 30 to 50 bags of donated clothing arrive each day, sometimes more than 100, and shop manager Colin French describes the floor space as barely enough to walk on tiptoe. Sorting through these donations, a large share cannot be put on the shelves at all: smelly bathrobes, worn-out trainers, pilled sweaters, old socks, even empty jewellery boxes. Commercial manager Caroline Worley calls this "absolutely typical" — during the COVID pandemic people spent more time at home, took their best clothes to Vinted to resell and stuffed the rest into donation bags, and this shift in habits has persisted.

Key points

  • British charity shops sell only about 25% of donated clothing on average; the rest depends on "ragmen" buying it by the kilo, but the recycling price has fallen from 50-60 pence per kilo a decade ago to "you're lucky to get 10 pence" today.
  • The St Raphael's Hospice charity shop has to pay £30,000 a year to dispose of waste nobody will take, and only 10 of its 13 inpatient beds are currently kept open; the British Heart Foundation has announced the closure of 150 of its 651 shops, with its retail arm losing £3.3 million in the last financial year.
  • Writer Tansy Hoskins published Charity Shop World after 16 months sorting clothes in a London charity shop; interviewees in the book widely reported that the quality of donations had "hit rock bottom", and shop managers across the country — in Nottingham, Accrington, Newcastle — told her that "most of what we get is rubbish".

Unsellable clothes become bills for charities

According to Jose Baladron of Traid, which has 12 shops in London, Britons are far ahead of the rest of Europe in clothing purchases: "New clothes consumption is exploding — the UK is definitely the highest in Europe." Overconsumption produces overdonation, and small shops simply cannot cope. Hoskins often finds fast-fashion donations "with the tags still on — clearly people get their online order, think 'what on earth is this', realise they can't wear it and just donate it".

A strikingly high figure is confirmed by research from the University of Southampton: on average only about 25% of donated clothing can be sold, and the rest is carted away by textile recyclers. And according to Merryn Haines-Gadd of the environmental action group Wrap, recycling prices have "plummeted" because the market is saturated with low-quality fast fashion. Charities also have to pay waste-clearance costs for clothes they cannot move. Worley mentions donations that include pans with food still stuck to the bottom, dirty baby sleeping bags and used sanitary products. Libby Gordon, chief executive of Fara, which has 39 London shops, says: "Staff morale suffers when they face donations that can't be sold, and dealing with all of it costs time."

Add rising utility bills and National Insurance contributions, and Hoskins believes the charity shop sector is caught in a "perfect storm". In June 2025 the British Heart Foundation announced plans to close 150 of its 651 shops, and its latest accounts show its retail arm lost £3.3 million the previous year. Cancer Research UK's plan to close 190 shops is under way, and there are reports that Oxfam may close as many as 100 shops (the organisation has denied this).

"Wishful donating" and the knock-on effects for charity retail

Fara has launched a new in-store poster campaign reminding would-be donors: "If you'd give it to a friend, we'd love to receive it." Its online guidance asks for items that are "clean, complete and in good condition". But just as putting unrecyclable items in the recycling bin is "wishful recycling", there is also "wishful giving". This mindset has become even worse after shops close — leaving bags outside shuttered doors is effectively illegal dumping, and charity shops often check CCTV, record number plates and report it to the police. These bags are frequently soiled by foxes or dogs and ruined by rain. Worley says dirty mattresses, broken sofas and old toilets have even been left at the door of St Raphael's, "leaving us with a huge headache".

St Raphael's, as a charity, has annual running costs of about £7 million and provides free end-of-life care to more than 1,000 patients a year. The £30,000 spent each year on waste disposal could have paid for a month of round-the-clock specialist care for one inpatient, and the hospice can currently open only 10 of its 13 inpatient beds. Gordon says: "Public generosity is what underpins our work in Romania, what funds research at the British Heart Foundation, and what makes Mind's mental health services possible."

What people on the ground see

French experienced the value of this care first-hand last year: in the three weeks before his sister died, she received meticulous care at Princess Alice Hospice in Esher, Surrey, and the whole family was supported throughout. "My parents still go back every week" for bereavement support, at no cost. He says: "It's moments like that which make you realise how vital this is to our communities."

When you are facing a wardrobe that needs clearing out, the work of charities can feel remote. But Hoskins suggests trying to "understand why you support a particular charity — whether it's the Red Cross, Cancer Research or an animal charity — and donate to them responsibly... If charity shops disappeared, it would be an absolute tragedy."

For the right destination for old clothes, the original article lists several routes: ordinary old clothes can go to local textile recycling banks (Recycle Now offers a finder), and pairs of old shoes should be tied together with string; old pure cotton clothes can be recycled and remade through Remill; old cashmere can be recycled through The Cashmere Centre for a £10 voucher; underwear that can't be worn can be sent, sorted by material, to organisations such as Smalls for All and Bravissimo.

Source: 'People sell their best stuff on Vinted' – how charity shops became a dumping ground for unsellable clothes · originally published 2026-10-13