the second hand trade in 19th-century london and dublin
In the 19th-century United Kingdom, clothing consumption was shaped by social class and industrial advancements. The contrast between the upper and working classes was reflected in their wardrobes: while the wealthy could afford bespoke tailoring or the latest ready-to-wear fashions, the working class relied heavily on the second-hand clothing trade or handed-down clothing. Second-hand garments passed through multiple hands, moving from the affluent to the impoverished and undergoing transformation, reuse, and reinvention at every stage. This recycling economy not only dressed the poor but also revealed a form of sustainable, localised consumption in an era long before fast fashion.
This essay explores the central role of the second-hand clothing trade in shaping working-class fashion during the 19th century, particularly in London and Dublin. It also examines how this trade influenced not only the quality and style of clothing but also the shifting social meanings of garments throughout the period. It will examine the networks of Jewish and Irish traders, the emergence of trading hubs and the ways clothing signified both poverty and aspiration.
The Trade in London
The trade in old clothes had been a long-standing practice in England, dating back to at least the 16th century (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.171). By the 17th and 18th centuries, large markets began to pop up; they then developed into more formal exchanges known as Rag Fairs. Rag-and-bone men were the clothes brokers of the time, but they usually collected unwanted clothing to recycle into new fabrics rather than resell it. During the 19th century, the high cost of fabrics and the limited availability of new garments made second-hand clothing an accessible resource for working-class and impoverished Londoners to clothe themselves. While wealthier individuals could buy the latest fashion, the working class could turn to second-hand markets, which offered a more affordable way to obtain clothing. This practice also allowed for the reusing and recycling of materials that might otherwise have been discarded.
Much of the second-hand trade in London was concentrated in the East End, particularly around Houndsditch and Rosemary Lane, as Ginsburg writes, “clothes brokers [...] had clustered around Houndsditch and Rosemary Lane, on the East side of the City” (1980, p.121). These areas became hubs for “clothes brokers” or “salesmen” (Campbell, 1747, p.284) who played a key role in circulating used garments. Jewish and Irish immigrants were integral to this trade, with many of them turning to the old clothes business as a means of economic survival upon arriving in England. Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews arriving from Spain, Portugal, Poland, and Russia were often excluded from established guilds and other forms of formal employment, which forced them to find alternative work (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.171).
Some Jewish immigrants, in particular, had a long history as peddlers in their countries of origin and, upon arriving in London, continued this trade. Many of these immigrants started their businesses with small communal loans that allowed them to purchase garments from the wealthy, which they would then hawk to the working class. As Mayhew writes, “The trades in which the Jews most affect [...] are those in which ‘there’s a chance’” (1985, p.193). The Jewish old clothes sellers (fig.1), often depicted carrying bags filled with garments, would roam the streets of London, calling out “Clo’ Clo’ Clo’” or “Old Clo’” to attract buyers and sellers (1985, p.199). In some other depictions, like the one in Figure 2, they appear to be saying full sentences such as “Old Clothes! Any Old Clothes to Sell!” Although the representation of these sellers is often riddled with antisemitic stereotypes, they played an essential role in the commerce of second-hand clothing.
The sellers began their days early, scouring London’s streets and markets for second-hand garments to buy and resell later the same day. The men would prioritise small streets where middle-class families lived, as they were most likely to trade old clothes for items such as glassware and crockery (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.175). In the 18th century, there was a notable attempt to formalise this trade by setting up fairs and markets. One such example was the Rag Fair in an old dealing district near Whitechapel; however, due to local people’s petitions, the fair was shut down. This ultimately led a Mr Lewis Isaac, “a leading merchant in the old clothes line” (Ritchie, 1859, p.117), to open the Old Clothes Exchange (fig.3), where old clothes brokers could buy and sell their findings to the public and amongst each other (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.178). After scouring the streets for clothes, most sellers would end up in markets looking to sell or trade their findings.
The Old Clothes Exchange was where much of this trade took place. In order to enter, you had to pay a small entrance fee: “you had better pay [...] as the toll-collector is an ex-prize fighter [...] you would come off second best.” (Ritchie, 1859, p.121). Thousands of pounds of clothing changed hands there, as traders bought and sold garments ranging from fine lace silks to patched workwear. By 1849, the exchange featured cheap food and drink vendors, making it a bustling social market (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.180). In the engraving from the Illustrated London News (fig.3), we see this crowded market in full action, with many sellers holding up shoes or sheets to attract customers. There are also some younger boys; we can assume they are there to learn the trade so that they can join the industry later on.
Child labour played a crucial role in the trade, especially within these Jewish immigrant families: trading knowledge, sales techniques and street routes were passed from father to son. Children as young as eight or nine began working and learning how to identify valuable garments, haggle with buyers and avoid areas already “claimed” by other traders (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.172). These children would sometimes work alongside other adults under arrangements known as “Half Rybeck”, where profits were split in exchange for mentorship and shared street territory (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.172). Mayhew observed that this early labour was essential not just to a family’s survival, as they could double their profit, but also to sustaining the broader trade ecosystem that relied on trusted networks and knowledge (1985, p.193).
Many dealers in the market also engaged in international trade, exporting used clothing to Belgium, France, Holland and even South America (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.181). The exchange included garments of varying quality: from discarded clothing of the wealthy passed on to their servants, who then sold it to brokers, to patched and mended workwear. Some dealers even specialised in purchasing cast-off military uniforms, as the gold and silver lace used in the garments was very valuable: “They frequently walked the mews behind barracks, because the gold torn from uniforms was greatly prized” (Naggar, 1988–1990, p.174). The markets were particularly active on Sundays, as most if not all of the Jewish traders would take Saturdays off for Shabbat.
Despite its success, the market also gained a reputation for being linked to illegal activities. Charles Dickens in Oliver Twist describes the area as: “Here the clothes-man, the shoe vamper, and the rag merchant display their goods as signboards to the petty thief, and stores of old iron [...] fragments of woollen, stuff, and linen rust and rot in the grimy cellars.” (Ritchie, 1859, p.117). While it is true that some of the goods were stolen, most were properly acquired. Much of the information we have about these sellers is indeed riddled with antisemitic dialogue. For example, in A History of the Cries of London (Ancient and Modern) by Charles Hindley, he refers to the sellers as “Jew-Fagin”, a direct reference to Fagin in Oliver Twist, who runs the gang of pickpockets, and explains that a stranger “could have his hood stolen at one end of the town and see it exposed for sale at the other” (2011, p.9).
The Trade in Dublin
In Dublin, the reliance on second-hand clothing mirrored the trends in London. Ireland at the time was going through the Great Famine, which lasted from around 1845 to 1852. The famine forced many Irish people into extreme poverty, making second-hand clothing a necessity for survival. Unlike in London, where second-hand clothing was seen as a necessary but sometimes stigmatised choice for the working class, in Dublin the practice was far more normalised. Many destitute individuals relied on charity, while others sought clothing in the bustling second-hand markets such as those at “Cole’s Lane, Cumberland Street, and the Daisy and Iveagh markets” (O’Connell, 2020, p.133).
Charitable clothing initiatives played a crucial role during this time, as organisations like the Nourishment and Clothing Society, associated with Sir Patrick Dun’s Hospital, distributed garments such as flannel petticoats, waistcoats, stockings and even “cholera belts” during the outbreak. Their 1832 report records the distribution of over 500 items, often provided free of charge or sold at reduced prices, helping to clothe the sick and the poor while maintaining some sense of dignity (2020, p.131). Likewise, the Dorcas Society supported poor women and children by providing sewing work and garments for school attendance (2020, p.132).
Irish immigrants in London, whilst having escaped the pangs of the potato blight and thus not as destitute as their brethren back home, were mostly employed in low-wage work. They were also heavily discriminated against, much like their Jewish counterparts: the anti-Irish sentiment forbade Irish immigrants from accessing most employment and housing; the phrase “No Irish Need Apply” featured in ads in newspapers and further pushed the prejudice faced by Irish immigrants seeking work and places of residence. Thus, they turned to the second-hand trade to increase their income or cut costs. However, many were more likely buyers than sellers.
Dublin’s second-hand market saw an influx of garments from London, particularly silk, cashmere and muslin dresses (O’Connell, 2020, pp.126–128). The locally sourced stock was brought by the Irish “female tuggers”, who would travel to the suburbs to gather old clothing, then patch it up and sell it in the markets (2020, p.133).
Dublin’s second-hand markets were characterised by little stigma around using old garments, as most working-class individuals were in similar economic situations and dressed in used clothes. As O’Connell writes: “For clothing, tenement dwellers dressed in the discarded garments of the better classes. Men and women ordinarily had a respectable second-hand outfit for Sunday Mass.” (2020, p.132), highlighting both the normality and the dignity with which second-hand fashion was worn. The only exception was the poorest, who could not even afford second-hand clothing and, as a result, were issued police-provided garments.
These clothes, stamped with a mark to indicate their origin, became a symbol of public shame for those who wore them (O’Connell, 2020, p.133). In contrast, London’s working-class population often faced some social shame when wearing second-hand clothing.
The Effect on the Quality, Style and Meaning of Clothing
The second-hand clothing trade profoundly affected the quality, style, and meaning of garments during the 19th century. For many working-class individuals, second-hand clothing was not only an affordable solution but also a way to access garments of better quality than they could afford new. As noted by an anonymous dealer in Street Life in London, “coats were worn till their owners tired of them, and they went down the scale to dress the labouring classes” (Thomson, 1969, p.47).
This recycling and passing down of clothing meant that working-class individuals could wear garments discarded by wealthier families—garments that were high quality when first made. While second-hand clothing allowed access to better-quality fabrics, the decline in overall garment quality as the century progressed became evident. With the rise of cheaper, mass-produced clothing, the same anonymous dealer also exclaimed, “Such articles were all honest wool when I took to collecting; but now [...] cotton and dye and shoddy’s all the rage” (1969, p.47).
Shoddy was created by shredding old fabrics and re-spinning the fibres into new yarn, a process invented in 1813 by Benjamin Law of Batley. By the late 19th century, cheaper materials and ready-to-wear clothing further changed the second-hand trade, leading to a general decline in the quality of available garments.
Second-hand clothing consumption also fostered a culture of repair and reuse that made the clothing economy of the time surprisingly sustainable by modern standards. Garments were rarely discarded; instead, they were patched, darned, re-stitched or entirely reworked into new items. Old garments were adapted for children, broken garments turned into workwear and scraps of fabric were saved for future mending or embellishment. Small items such as buttons and fastenings were salvaged for later use; this domestic repair culture not only prolonged the life of clothing but also reduced waste.
Second-hand clothes dealers also participated in recycling efforts, shredding worn fabrics into fibres or using old materials as rags, stuffing, or insulation. In this sense, the second-hand market operated as an early form of circular economy. As Ritchie aptly described, “Even those bits of waste leather will be carefully treasured up and converted into a dye that may tint the rich man’s costly robe. Now you need not wonder why you find suspicious-looking men and women bargaining with your servants for left-off clothes, or rags, or plunder of any kind, and you are not surprised when you hear even out of this dirty trade riches are made, and the gains are great” (1859, p.121).
Beyond the physical quality of the garments, the trade also influenced the social meaning of clothing. In the 19th century—and for as long as clothing has existed—clothing was not merely a necessity but also a symbol of status. For the working class, second-hand clothing provided a way to participate in the larger consumer culture and access fashionable garments typically reserved for the wealthy.
This is reflected in the growing desire of working-class individuals to emulate the dress of the upper classes. The same dealer from Street Life in London commented, “labourers now ape their masters and buy at first-hand” (Thomson, 1969, p.47), underscoring the working class's growing aspiration to mimic the fashion trends of their wealthier counterparts, as well as the rise of ready-to-wear fashion.
Moreover, the second-hand clothing market also highlighted the economic value of garments as tradable assets. Many individuals would pawn their clothes during times of financial hardship, only to repurchase them once their circumstances improved. This system of exchange linked clothing to economic survival, and clothing became a valuable currency. Garments became economic instruments that were traded, repaired and reused, extending their life and value in ways that would not be possible with the rapid consumption of new, mass-produced clothing.
The second-hand clothing trade in the 19th century played a vital role in shaping working-class fashion, particularly in London and Dublin. It provided an accessible way for impoverished individuals to obtain clothing while also reflecting broader economic shifts and social attitudes toward consumption. Markets like the Old Clothes Exchange in London and those in Dublin became hubs for garment exchange, highlighting the working class's ingenuity and resilience in the face of economic despair.
However, as the century progressed, garment quality began to decline due to the increasing use of cheaper materials and the rise of mass consumption. Shoddy fabrics and fast turnaround production increasingly replaced the rich wools and tailored fabrics of the earlier period of the century. This transition marked a turning point, foreshadowing the rise of fast fashion in the 21st century, with similar concerns about quality, environmental impact, and consumerism.
What is most remarkable about the 19th-century second-hand trade is how sustainable and resourceful it was by necessity. Clothing was circulated, patched, remade and reused: nothing was wasted. The garments carried not only the physical traces of their previous owners but also complex layers of social identity and class experience as they moved down the hierarchies of the time.
Second-hand clothes dealers, menders and brokers formed an early example of a circular economy, long before the term was coined, demonstrating that fashion could be both economically viable and ecologically mindful.
The second-hand clothing trade of the 19th century, therefore, stands not only as a reflection of social class and economic conditions but also as a precursor to the modern fashion industry and the issues surrounding sustainable consumption that we face today.
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Hindley, C. (2011) A History of the Cries of London (Ancient and Modern), pp.9.
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O’Connell, M. (2020) ‘Prudence Brice and the Clothes Brokers of Dublin’, Dublin Historical Record, vol.73, pp.105-135.
Naggar, B. (1988-1990) ‘Old-clothes men: 18th and 19th centuries’, Jewish Historical Studies, vol. 31, pp.171-191.
Thomson, J. (1969) Street Life in London, pp.40-45.
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