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Nothing New, A History of Second-Hand
‘Given the way we live now,’ writes Robyn Annear, ‘it would be easy to suppose that newness has always been venerated.’ But as this wonderfully entertaining short history makes clear, modern consumerism is an aberration. Mostly, everyday objects—from cast-off cookware to clothing worn down to rags—have enjoyed long lives and the appreciation of serial owners.
Nothing New is itself an emporium: a treasure store of anecdotes and little-known facts that will intrigue and enlighten the devoted bargain-hunter and the dilettante browser alike.
Nothing New is itself an emporium: a treasure store of anecdotes and little-known facts that will intrigue and enlighten the devoted bargain-hunter and the dilettante browser alike.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published November 5, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews
December 11, 2019
“Second-hand means different things to different people. To some it’s an abhorrence, to some a necessity, to others a curiosity, a business, an aesthetic, an obsession, a mode of time-travel. It is all but ineradicable: things don’t just disappear because our use for them has ended.”
Nothing New: A History of Second-Hand is the sixth book by award-winning Australian author, Robyn Annear. Who has never been into a second-hand shop, or never op-shopped? Those who raise a hand are surely missing out! Robyn Annear takes us there. But not just in today’s world. Annear takes us back, way back, to show us that second-hand is no recent phenomenon.
As she looks at both the many different commodities and the myriad of sources from which they are obtained, she steers us through the changing rationales and attitudes about second-hand.
“In Europe, second-hand persisted as the unremarked norm from antiquity until the late eighteenth century, during which time industry lacked the capacity, or the demand, to produce new goods for everybody. ‘Making do’ was how people lived and all that they expected.” So it was the necessary norm until “… conspicuously new became fixed as the desirable norm, did second-hand come into focus as a distinct category, inferior by definition” giving it a stigma.
When affluence and leisure time allowed for the idea of collections, that stigma disappeared and retro/vintage with patina became sought after. Want became more important than need, and op shop were finds bragged about.
As Annear guides the reader through the wealth of information, the what, who, how and why of second hand, she adds some surprising snippets: while clothing, household goods, books, building materials and cars are common items for reuse and/or repurposing, people of today may be surprised that in earlier times:
Cooked food scraps from wealthy kitchens were sold (or sometimes given) to the poor: that era’s fast food.
Kitchen fat was saved to convert to candles and soap and wartime nitroglycerin.
Used tealeaves were mixed with new, an adulteration (like shoddy mixed with new wool), creating an inferior product.
Bones were converted to a host of products: toothbrush or cutlery handles, buttons, glue or gelatin.
Rags were used for paper manufacture, shoddy (wool) or flock (stuffing).
The rag and bottle shop were the recyclers of their era: truly, nothing new under the sun.
Scrap wool was an ingredient of Prussian Blue dye.
Military attire and livery often found its way to third world countries to outfit despots and their militias.
It was common practice for servants to be given clothing cast off by their masters, their perks (from perquisites; see, you just learned something!), which were sold for cash to clothing brokers (fripperers).
Old clothing was also exported overseas: the poor Irish needed it; the Australian colonists disdained it; modern-day African countries clamour for it.
Where did the goods come from?
Whether it be children earning pocket money, or on an industrial scale: “Collecting, sorting and scavenging not only kept valuable raw materials in steady circulation, but spared civic authorities from dealing with refuse…. Waste wasn’t waste while a use could still be found for it.”
Historical sources included: War looting, mudlarking, pawn shops and auctions, Army surplus.
Rummage or jumble sales led to the genesis of the opportunity/thrift shop.
Sales of lost (or, really, found) property (umbrellas being the most ubiquitous item), storage unit auctions, flea markets and garage sales.
Exchange marts morphed into online sites like eBay, Gumtree, Freecycle, so now, sources are legion.
Annear still finds the physical shopping most attractive: “Serendipity. Never knowing what you’ll find. Sometimes nothing, sometimes gold; most often, fool’s gold. Expectations are worthless when op-shopping, and so it is the perfect sport for a glass-half-empty person… the gonzo X factor, the inscrutable hints of past lives, the bargains.”
Annear’s extensive research (to which the sources and further reading list attest) is apparent on every page. With her many (always interesting and often funny) footnotes, this makes an utterly fascinating read.
This unbiased review is from a copy provided by Text Publishing.
Nothing New: A History of Second-Hand is the sixth book by award-winning Australian author, Robyn Annear. Who has never been into a second-hand shop, or never op-shopped? Those who raise a hand are surely missing out! Robyn Annear takes us there. But not just in today’s world. Annear takes us back, way back, to show us that second-hand is no recent phenomenon.
As she looks at both the many different commodities and the myriad of sources from which they are obtained, she steers us through the changing rationales and attitudes about second-hand.
“In Europe, second-hand persisted as the unremarked norm from antiquity until the late eighteenth century, during which time industry lacked the capacity, or the demand, to produce new goods for everybody. ‘Making do’ was how people lived and all that they expected.” So it was the necessary norm until “… conspicuously new became fixed as the desirable norm, did second-hand come into focus as a distinct category, inferior by definition” giving it a stigma.
When affluence and leisure time allowed for the idea of collections, that stigma disappeared and retro/vintage with patina became sought after. Want became more important than need, and op shop were finds bragged about.
As Annear guides the reader through the wealth of information, the what, who, how and why of second hand, she adds some surprising snippets: while clothing, household goods, books, building materials and cars are common items for reuse and/or repurposing, people of today may be surprised that in earlier times:
Cooked food scraps from wealthy kitchens were sold (or sometimes given) to the poor: that era’s fast food.
Kitchen fat was saved to convert to candles and soap and wartime nitroglycerin.
Used tealeaves were mixed with new, an adulteration (like shoddy mixed with new wool), creating an inferior product.
Bones were converted to a host of products: toothbrush or cutlery handles, buttons, glue or gelatin.
Rags were used for paper manufacture, shoddy (wool) or flock (stuffing).
The rag and bottle shop were the recyclers of their era: truly, nothing new under the sun.
Scrap wool was an ingredient of Prussian Blue dye.
Military attire and livery often found its way to third world countries to outfit despots and their militias.
It was common practice for servants to be given clothing cast off by their masters, their perks (from perquisites; see, you just learned something!), which were sold for cash to clothing brokers (fripperers).
Old clothing was also exported overseas: the poor Irish needed it; the Australian colonists disdained it; modern-day African countries clamour for it.
Where did the goods come from?
Whether it be children earning pocket money, or on an industrial scale: “Collecting, sorting and scavenging not only kept valuable raw materials in steady circulation, but spared civic authorities from dealing with refuse…. Waste wasn’t waste while a use could still be found for it.”
Historical sources included: War looting, mudlarking, pawn shops and auctions, Army surplus.
Rummage or jumble sales led to the genesis of the opportunity/thrift shop.
Sales of lost (or, really, found) property (umbrellas being the most ubiquitous item), storage unit auctions, flea markets and garage sales.
Exchange marts morphed into online sites like eBay, Gumtree, Freecycle, so now, sources are legion.
Annear still finds the physical shopping most attractive: “Serendipity. Never knowing what you’ll find. Sometimes nothing, sometimes gold; most often, fool’s gold. Expectations are worthless when op-shopping, and so it is the perfect sport for a glass-half-empty person… the gonzo X factor, the inscrutable hints of past lives, the bargains.”
Annear’s extensive research (to which the sources and further reading list attest) is apparent on every page. With her many (always interesting and often funny) footnotes, this makes an utterly fascinating read.
This unbiased review is from a copy provided by Text Publishing.
February 1, 2020
‘Second-hand means different things to different people.’
When I was a child, second-hand was a sign of poverty, of not being able to afford new. Later, as a new mother, second-hand was a sensible way of recycling baby clothes and the multitude of accoutrements that very young children require. Very few of these items wear out: they are grown out of quickly and sharing makes sense. And now? In my senior years I visit op-shops regularly, rescuing fabric, long out of print books, craft material and clothing as well as donating jigsaws (complete!) and clothing. And I love second-hand bookshops. Ms Annear could well have written this book for me: a history of one of my favourite pastimes.
‘There’s nothing new about second-hand.’
Indeed, there is not. And the history is fascinating. We’d all be aware of second-hand clothing, household goods, books, building materials and cars. But what about food scraps? I remember ‘the pig man’ visiting my school to take away food scraps for the pigs. Not these days, I suspect. But unused food was also sold (or given) to the poor and is donated to charities.
‘Opportunity shop. How brilliant. Who wouldn’t prefer an opportunity shop to one trading in charity, salvage or thrift let alone waste products?’
I was reminded of the use of rags in paper and learned about ‘shoddy’ and ‘flock’. I was reminded of ‘dripping’ (I never liked bread and dripping), and the manufacture of candles. My grandparents, adults during the Great Depression, were great at recycling and repurposing.
If you enjoy op-shopping or have ever wondered about the history of second-hand and the reuse of items, this is a book to read and enjoy.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
When I was a child, second-hand was a sign of poverty, of not being able to afford new. Later, as a new mother, second-hand was a sensible way of recycling baby clothes and the multitude of accoutrements that very young children require. Very few of these items wear out: they are grown out of quickly and sharing makes sense. And now? In my senior years I visit op-shops regularly, rescuing fabric, long out of print books, craft material and clothing as well as donating jigsaws (complete!) and clothing. And I love second-hand bookshops. Ms Annear could well have written this book for me: a history of one of my favourite pastimes.
‘There’s nothing new about second-hand.’
Indeed, there is not. And the history is fascinating. We’d all be aware of second-hand clothing, household goods, books, building materials and cars. But what about food scraps? I remember ‘the pig man’ visiting my school to take away food scraps for the pigs. Not these days, I suspect. But unused food was also sold (or given) to the poor and is donated to charities.
‘Opportunity shop. How brilliant. Who wouldn’t prefer an opportunity shop to one trading in charity, salvage or thrift let alone waste products?’
I was reminded of the use of rags in paper and learned about ‘shoddy’ and ‘flock’. I was reminded of ‘dripping’ (I never liked bread and dripping), and the manufacture of candles. My grandparents, adults during the Great Depression, were great at recycling and repurposing.
If you enjoy op-shopping or have ever wondered about the history of second-hand and the reuse of items, this is a book to read and enjoy.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
November 2, 2019
Nothing New, a History of Second-Hand is a beaut book, perfect for Christmas gifts or a present at any other time. It is a comprehensive history lightened by quirky details and fascinating trivia, and Robyn Annear's off-beat sense of humour will have you chuckling over all sorts of things while you wonder about a story you were never told before. But if someone doesn't give the book to you this festive season, then you will have to buy a copy for yourself because it is also an insight into how we have created our current waste problem. It took the ABC's TV program
War on Waste
coupled with China's refusal to accept imports of Australia's waste for us to realise that our buy-now-throw-away economy has created a massive problem that we have to solve. If the system could manage waste in the past, then we with our superior technologies can surely manage it now. But what it will take, as Annear shows us, is not merely for individuals to take responsibility for their own domestic behaviours, but for corporate Australia to redesign its processes so that nothing is wasted. And that involves a much bigger change in attitudes and values.
As well as all that, Nothing New is also an indispensable reference for writers of historical fiction. Read it from cover-to-cover to catch the atmosphere of domestic life in past times, and to discover not just the minutiae of what Robyn Annear rightly describes as the circular economy' but also the values of the times, and how nothing—nothing!—was wasted.
There's just so much here that's interesting! For example, people had no problem with the idea of second-hand until the discovery of germs. Germ theory was a game changer. It is for me too. I can come at the idea of items that couldn't possibly still be hosting germs, but then there are bugs: I know that you can come a cropper with second-hand furniture if it's got woodworm in it.
And then there's a fascinating discussion about the role of charities. Annear is a social historian, and she's alert to all kinds of patronising kinds of charities such as the missionaries who were only willing to help the 'deserving' poor with their second-hand gear. Prior to the rise of consumer culture, barter was how many people got along, but now charity shops are part of the waste collection system and in many places they sell 'vintage' clothes at high prices to people who consider themselves 'custodians' of the article. The charity then uses the profits to supply the needy with food and other services rather than make the goods available at low prices.
Did you know that there are over 2500 Op Shops in Australia, one in nearly every suburb?
For those of us with nostalgic memories of the ABCTV program Collectors there's a whole chapter called 'The Antiquarian Thicket'.
Then the middle classes took it up, even inventing the whatnot, a spindly stand with shelves specially designed for the display of bijou ornaments. But however modest, collecting was a still a luxury until it became popular in the 20th century. Annear says that the rise of collecting in the 1920s and 30s gave value to second-hand goods, and may have been a reaction to the soullessness of the times.
(I'm not sure that the books I collect are a symbol of glamour... more a sign of nerdiness, I suspect!)
The chapter about clothing is a real eye-opener.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2019/11/02/n...
As well as all that, Nothing New is also an indispensable reference for writers of historical fiction. Read it from cover-to-cover to catch the atmosphere of domestic life in past times, and to discover not just the minutiae of what Robyn Annear rightly describes as the circular economy' but also the values of the times, and how nothing—nothing!—was wasted.
There's just so much here that's interesting! For example, people had no problem with the idea of second-hand until the discovery of germs. Germ theory was a game changer. It is for me too. I can come at the idea of items that couldn't possibly still be hosting germs, but then there are bugs: I know that you can come a cropper with second-hand furniture if it's got woodworm in it.
And then there's a fascinating discussion about the role of charities. Annear is a social historian, and she's alert to all kinds of patronising kinds of charities such as the missionaries who were only willing to help the 'deserving' poor with their second-hand gear. Prior to the rise of consumer culture, barter was how many people got along, but now charity shops are part of the waste collection system and in many places they sell 'vintage' clothes at high prices to people who consider themselves 'custodians' of the article. The charity then uses the profits to supply the needy with food and other services rather than make the goods available at low prices.
Did you know that there are over 2500 Op Shops in Australia, one in nearly every suburb?
For those of us with nostalgic memories of the ABCTV program Collectors there's a whole chapter called 'The Antiquarian Thicket'.
As the past—or a romantic ideal of it—was commodified by consumer culture, the antique endowed status on its acolytes. With the exception of a few parson-antiquarians who dug up their own treasures, it was the moneyed and aspirational who were the collectors to begin with. (p.170)
Then the middle classes took it up, even inventing the whatnot, a spindly stand with shelves specially designed for the display of bijou ornaments. But however modest, collecting was a still a luxury until it became popular in the 20th century. Annear says that the rise of collecting in the 1920s and 30s gave value to second-hand goods, and may have been a reaction to the soullessness of the times.
Religion was on the wane and urbanism on the rise, while mass consumerism promoted homogeneity and change for the sake of it. Collecting things 'old and beautiful', on the other hand, satisfied 'a deeply held need for enchantment, glamour and poetry in everyday life.' And by valorising the old over the new, the collector was asserting nonconformity, rejecting the easy and the ordinary in favour of self-expression. (p.173)
(I'm not sure that the books I collect are a symbol of glamour... more a sign of nerdiness, I suspect!)
The chapter about clothing is a real eye-opener.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2019/11/02/n...
September 18, 2020
This was a very interesting and accessible history of the second hand - pawnbrokers, rag pickers, op shops, jumble sales, buy, sell and swap sites, antique markets, lost property depots and more. Very enjoyable read.
Read
December 7, 2023This is a fairly broad ranging potted history, though that sounds like a contradiction. Annear looks at second hand as a lover of op shops, and much of the history she sifts through is about recycling clothing before it became a sustainable movement to save the planet, but she looks at all the many and eclectic things that people have reused and repurposed throughout history also.
She writes:
“Waste was’t waste while a use could still be found for it. In later chapters we’ll see how the idea of waste would change as economies came increasingly to rely on accelerating the obsolescence of things. There *is* such a thing as waste, it turns out, and affluence produces it.” p. 90
For much of the book Annear focuses purely on the history of how things have been collected, swapped or sold, used and reused. She gives examples predominantly from Britain, the United States, and Australia. Linked with this is of course the story of industrialisation and how our consumer habits have changed. Towards the end of the history Annear looks at how we are now using recycling and reuse, this time with an eye on the environment and more sustainable life on this planet.
She writes:
“Waste was’t waste while a use could still be found for it. In later chapters we’ll see how the idea of waste would change as economies came increasingly to rely on accelerating the obsolescence of things. There *is* such a thing as waste, it turns out, and affluence produces it.” p. 90
For much of the book Annear focuses purely on the history of how things have been collected, swapped or sold, used and reused. She gives examples predominantly from Britain, the United States, and Australia. Linked with this is of course the story of industrialisation and how our consumer habits have changed. Towards the end of the history Annear looks at how we are now using recycling and reuse, this time with an eye on the environment and more sustainable life on this planet.
February 29, 2020
A love letter to thrifting and op-shopping, it was like this book was made for me. It had some fascinating titbits about the historical context and present politics of op-shopping, and it provided a lot of textual references from sources I wouldn’t have dreamed of existing! I love that this is a ringing endorsement of op-shopping and lauds it as the community effort that it very well can be, although it doesn’t examine some of the darker side of the organisations (like the Salvation Army). With that being said, items found in op-shops do indeed carry history and are far more human than anything I can pick up at the generic department store.
May 23, 2020
Loved it! Fascinating, well researched, informative and so relatable. For anyone who loves a good op-shop hunt for treasure and for those who are concerned about the ever-increasing mountain of cheap clothing dumped in landfill this is a book to start conversations. I love that I found this book in an op-shop.
January 20, 2021
A fascinating look into the history of how "one man's trash is another man's treasure." Learning ab0ut the origins of the op shop, mudlarks and the eventual transfer of unwanted goods to third world countries in "bales" and sold by the kilogram. Annear also mentions the "Melbourne Trading Post" (some students at my school played a prank where they put the school buses for sale in there- long, long story) and loads of references to "second hand" in popular culture too.
March 27, 2020
Super lovely! The history of second-hand and recycling, in particular of clothes, is quite incredible. Up until recently (last century, really), humans used to recycle everything – even dust gathered from your home would be collected to make bricks. I'm delighted that somebody chose to write this book, and that someone else chose to publish it.
December 17, 2019
Historian Robyn Annear is a long-time afficionado of second-hand. Right up front she admits that "Other people's detritus calls to me. And from that siren song this book was born." (3). Her opening chapter is titled 'Nothing New' and her closing chapter is titled '...Under the Sun'. In the intervening chapters, she embarks on a digressive history of second-hand, told with her trade-mark giggle in the narrative voice. The book is roughly chronological from 1700s to the present day, and it jumps around the Anglosphere, with Australia considered quite naturally and unselfconsciously among Britain and America, with occasional additional reference to France and Africa....
Written in a quirky conversational tone, 'Nothing New' wears its scholarship lightly, but the references at the back reveal the research that has gone into the book. Where footnotes appear at the bottom of the page, they are jokes and comments, rather than references. It's a quick, fascinating read that will have you looking up and saying to anyone listening "Hey, did you know?.......)
Written in a quirky conversational tone, 'Nothing New' wears its scholarship lightly, but the references at the back reveal the research that has gone into the book. Where footnotes appear at the bottom of the page, they are jokes and comments, rather than references. It's a quick, fascinating read that will have you looking up and saying to anyone listening "Hey, did you know?.......)
May 6, 2020
This was a super interesting read as it charts the attitudes to, and use of, all things secondhand. I like the fact it is written by an Australian and so has more of an Aussie focus but Robyn Annear takes us all over the world and through history to look at how waste, reuse, recycling, and new have changed over time.
There are interesting, sometimes scary, facts about what our consumption is doing to the planet, however what intrigued me most was the shifts in attitudes through society toward old and new, the influence of advertising on consumption and the pervasiveness of our driving need for new, new, new.
There are interesting, sometimes scary, facts about what our consumption is doing to the planet, however what intrigued me most was the shifts in attitudes through society toward old and new, the influence of advertising on consumption and the pervasiveness of our driving need for new, new, new.
November 7, 2025
I really enjoyed following the progress of attitudes toward second-hand through the years, primarily concentrating on the 1800s to about 2015. It was interesting seeing how second-hand clothing progressed through being considered as something to be disdained, to the vintage phenomenon, to being considered more genuine and desired than new clothing in some African countries, where used clothing arrives in huge bales and shoppers bend down to the ground to sort through it. The author is Australian, so many of the references are from that country; while some terms, like “op shops,” were unfamiliar to me, it was easy to catch on, and she does include many US and British examples as well.
June 21, 2020
Well I found this fascinating, reckon Robyn Annear could be Australia’s answer to Bill Bryson. Don’t expect a focus on eccentric collections, this traces the history of secondhand/recycled items over the centuries and from land to land. Who knew op shops have such a world view. The shift from shame to satisfaction in the use of ‘not new’ is something for which I’m grateful. I enjoyed it a lot, found out a lot too.
On the other hand, the inveterate collector in my household was uninspired by it.
Lisa at ANZ Litlover has a great review on it.
On the other hand, the inveterate collector in my household was uninspired by it.
Lisa at ANZ Litlover has a great review on it.
March 7, 2021
Full of interesting facts and written in a lively, conversational tone, this is a fun read. But my training as an art historian made it hard for me to look past the lack of conventional referencing, etc. I know this is pitched at a general readership, but I still found it hard to reconcile - some asides are made here and there where footnotes would appear and endnotes for each chapter are rather short. There are suggestions for further reading but I confess to wanting a more comprehensive record of sources. But overall, an entertaining book!
June 24, 2020
Such an interesting delve into parts of historic textile and general recycling that I have not heard about before, and the social changes that led to the rise of the 'second hand' industry in Aus, the US and UK. While I was initially expecting more analysis of the current 'fast fashion' consumerism that is so prevalent, I was easantly surprised that I got exactly what the title said: a history.
March 22, 2023
This book was great. I’m so glad I read it. It was interesting and full of facts and information. I enjoyed the topic very much.
However I found it hard to come back to it when I put it down. It took me almost a month to get through it. I don’t know exactly why. I found it interesting and well written but didn’t feel drawn to reading when I had time on my hands.
However I found it hard to come back to it when I put it down. It took me almost a month to get through it. I don’t know exactly why. I found it interesting and well written but didn’t feel drawn to reading when I had time on my hands.
April 29, 2020
Exactly what it says on the cover - a history of second hand with a focus on Australia. A good examination of the former value of items now considered low-value, the birth of the op shop and the rise of "vintage."
January 4, 2020
Never actually challenges the consumer culture that led us to our current climate crisis. Rather, by the end she is praising consumption, albeit a different version of consumption.
January 24, 2020
A very readable popular history of secondhand. Adam Minter’s Junkyard Planet will always be my favorite, but this one is very good too. The focus on Australia is its point of difference.
Read
May 26, 2020I learnt a lot from this - fascinating to see the waxing and waning of the recycled clothing industry across time.
November 27, 2019
A fascinating, witty and engaging emporium of historical facts and anecdotes about all things second-hand from "devil's dust" to what happens with used clothes now we're in fast-fashion territory.
December 27, 2020
A delightful series of insights into the joy of the 'rummage', the jumble and the second-hand. I had no idea there was so much to learn from what is old but Annear does a wonderful job of steering the reader through the creation of 'op-shops' and, by default, the continuation of a long tradition of re-using rather than discarding. The book is meticulously researched with many, many fun facts and details that are interesting and varied. An engaging read.
Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews