When I was a penniless student studying in England, I used to regularly trawl the Oxfam charity shops. It was, back then, still an alien concept to me, for, a couple of decades ago, there were no actual charity shops in Malta where you could buy second-hand stuff. People simply donated clothes to convent nuns, who would then pass them on to families in need.

But in the 1990s, in the UK’s main cities, charities were already organised enough to turn cast-off clothes, books and bric-a-brac into a form of fundraising. These shops did not look like the bażar tal-Knisja: they were not a hodgepodge of synthetic items, sad or worn-out shoes plonked over two planks of wood resting on chairs. Nor did they look like high-street shops. They were something cosy in between, with little shop windows and neat display and always full of students foraging for bargains.

The last time I was in the UK I noticed a drastic change. Charity shops – be it Oxfam, Red Cross or Salvation Army – had, I don’t know… poshed-up. The slick makeover included wooden floors, monochrome frontages, new chic websites and one celebrity or other always featuring in their adverts.

Shops were still staffed by volunteers but major charities were now recruiting professionals to manage their shops. The people who previously worked for Mothercare, Next or Marks & Spencer are now running shops which encourage people to donate some of the two million tonnes of clothes disposed of every year in the UK, of which 80 per cent ends up in landfill sites.

NGOs need to start thinking outside the box when it comes to fundraising

Today, charity shops are marketed as places where you can find unusual, interesting and one-off pieces of clothing or furniture; they encourage individuality in a world which is increasingly looking uniform, and even more happily, they encourage a new breed of ethical and fashion-conscious consumers. As a result of this shift, people are actively encouraged to donate items of much better quality, and consequently the charities raise more money from the sales.

What about Malta?

We have started to tread the waters gingerly. New charity shops are sprouting up all over: some try to be arty, others, vintage-y; others organised; others specialised. However, culturally, we are still getting used to the idea that by stepping inside a charity shop you are not making a statement that you are on the poverty line.

There is another thing: we are a nation of hoarders. I blame this on World War II and maybe before that, the centuries of living on tenterhooks lest the corsairs come and take everything away. It is in our nature to hold on to things “just in case jinqala’ xi ħaġa” – even if that thing is your bużnanna’s dangerously malfunctioning spiritiera. This means we are only eager to part with extreme versions of junk.

Speak to any charity shop manager and they will tell you tales of scraps and tatters that they find on their doorstep. Dirty, torn, cheap, items that you would not want in your wardrobe or in the house even if they paid you. “People have this weird concept that charity shops are rubbish kips. Instead of going to the civic amenity sites, they just plonk their rubbish in a bag and leave it behind our door,” one volunteer told me.

Basic don’ts of charity shops therefore are: if it stinks; if it’s got holes; if it makes you want to close your eyes and pretend it’s not there, don’t donate to charity but call tar-radam.

I’m delighted with the surge of these shops in Malta. I have now got into the habit of detoxing my wardrobe and my life items once every two years. Things that I have not used or worn in that time – unless they have special sentimental value – I give away, mostly to the charity shop of St Jeanne Antide Foundation in Tarxien, which is doing a great job of raising funds through sales of donations. I also know that Inspire are setting up their own branches of shops, which includes specialist book, furniture and boutique clothing stores.

This is a very happy step forward. First of all because I think NGOs need to start thinking outside the box when it comes to fundraising: how many telethons can a nation have? How many times can we watch a show with people on stage exhorting us “Ċemplu, ċemplu, ċemplu”?

Secondly, I think it is healthy for a society to have charity shops, and if we can gradually move on to the sleek British model, it can only get better. In this day and age of designer labels here, there and everywhere, it is refreshing to go to a shop where you can be surprised by what you’ll find. I sometimes think that this obsession of ours to show off the labels is making us less creative, and turning us into dull, monotonous beings.

Lastly, I find that when you step inside a charity shop, whether to drop off items or to buy, you will meet people from all walks of life – and that, I find, grounds you and makes you aware of the life of affluence that we tend to be sucked into.

krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @KrisChetcuti