No matter where they ended up or who ended up wearing them, though, I was in the privileged position to feel good about donating to a worthy cause, keeping items out of the landfill and perhaps clothing someone who might have less than I do, large stature or not. In effect, my charity-induced geographical imagination was kicking into overtime thinking about the next material and social life that these clothes would be taking up. As I was closing the lid, I distinctly remember asking myself two things: first, where exactly do these items-no longer of value to me and my family-end up? A local charity shop or as rags and repurposed cloth? Or somewhere else? Second, will someone actually like the button down shirts in the bag I was donating? And what would they look like wearing my clothes? I thought, with a happy chuckle, that they had better be large in stature or it would look like they were wearing a ridiculously outsized tent. I found the imposing metal box that supported the RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institution), stuffed my bag into the slot, lifted it up and felt very satisfied as I heard it slide down to the bottom of the chute. Capitalism is Pants: Comments on Brooks' Clothing Poverty Commentary for Andrew Brooks' Clothing Poverty: The Hidden World of Fast Fashion and Secondhand Clothes (Zed Books, 2015) book symposium, Antipode, Edited by Alex Loftus A few months back, I took a bag of old clothes (that we could not 'regift' to friends) to my local recycling centre.
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