meIt’s a crisp Sunday morning in south-west London. The elementary school’s playground, located within a row of terraced houses, has been transformed into an outdoor treasure trove. The table is filled with books and board games. Clothes hang on metal racks or are stacked in boxes scattered over hopscotch. Balham Car Boot Sale opens at 10am. A decent queue of families, pensioners, fashion influencers and TikTokers pass through the entrance.
Three friends – Dominique Gowie, Abbie Mitchell, both 25, and Affy Chowdhury, 26 – arrived an hour early to get ready. They are selling them in car boots for the first time, driven by the hype spreading on social media. “I think going out and saying, ‘Oh, I bought this from the boot of my car’ is cooler than actually saying I bought it from Asos,” says Dominique.
“You go to Zara and H&M and it’s the same, but I think you can find something really unique here, especially in this store,” Affy said, pointing to a third bedroom’s worth of barely worn clothes thrown on a picnic table.
Like pub roasts and unnecessary apples, car boot sales are a classic British pastime. It’s a major weekend activity for those looking to get out there at 6am and grab an old DVD from the boot of their car for 50p. But like others across the country, Balham organizers have rebranded the British car boot to represent something a little more. popular.
Owner Steven Lopes, 36, who first set up Balham and its sister car boot in Peckham in 2019, runs the vintage store in east London with his partner Erin Murphy, 34. “It’s different from the traditional markets in the sector, which are full of tools and stuff,” he says.
“I’ve always been buying and selling clothes to wear since I was little, and there was a bit of a gap in south-east London,” says Murphy. The pair envisioned a car boot that would represent urban style while maintaining a family-friendly, nostalgic vibe.
The unfashionable start (car boots typically start at the crack of dawn) feels typical of this new type of sales. “It’s chilly on Sunday.” Lopes said. “Go and meet your friends and spend some time together. You might get hungover, but it’s not a big deal.”
Murphy estimates that about 20 people showed up during the first few months the drive-in started six years ago. Now she estimates between 1,000 and 2,000 people attend every other week.
Manchester car boot sale Rummage in the Range has seen a similar surge. “At 10am there are about 300 people queuing down the street,” says organizer Andrew Newens, 43. The luxury brand’s rebranding of “car boot style meets flea market” is something Rummage has also embraced. “We think of ourselves as a car boot, but not so old-fashioned that people are used to it. You can get it for 50p or £50. I think it brings together different demographics,” he says.
Card machines are barely visible. One of the joys of car boots is that they offer a unique and attractive alternative in an increasingly cashless society. Lopes believes this is conducive to more mindful spending habits. “It feels good to have cash in your hands. You have a limit and it’s more fun,” he said, while admitting he occasionally makes PayPal transactions.
“It has an urban feel,” Lopes says of his London iteration. “There are some cool things.” It’s this “coolness” factor that has attracted the Salomon-wearing crowd typically seen at pop-ups selling designer samples. On the surface, the luxury of the British car boot appears to usher in a revolving door of fashion-focused resellers and influencers.
As many buyers and sellers will attest, the growing interest in selling car boots is directly related to the younger generation’s preference for second-hand shopping in general for a number of reasons: the cost of living crisis, the increasing quality of vintage fabrics, the thrill of the “hunt” and the desire to find something unique.
Secondhand shopping has surged in recent years as reselling apps like Depop and Vinted have grown in popularity. According to the study, the second-hand market grew to £4.3 billion this year (including “open box” items and refurbished products, where products are returned in unused condition). The average UK individual spends £124.80 per month on second-hand goods, compared to £58.40 five years ago.
However, like other social media platforms, reselling apps based on algorithmically delivered content often encourage overconsumption rather than prudent and sustainable shopping discipline. Emily Jenkins first opened a store on Depop 10 years ago when she was a teenager. But now she’s shut down the app and is only selling in markets and car boots. “I can get a little bit of excitement from Vinted. I think it’s quite addictive,” she says. “People want to buy clothes they will actually wear. People seem to be quite conscious of what they buy.”
Much of the increased interest is also due to the work of second-hand fashion influencers who have put Britain’s car boot on the digital map. Becky Chorlton, 27, a fashion reseller and car boot content creator from Cheshire, travels the country to find the best bargains and documents her journey online. “I’ve definitely noticed an increase in popularity,” says Chorlton, who has turned his hobby into a full-time job and has amassed more than 30 million likes on TikTok.
Freddie Stoten, 25, a vintage clothing reseller who has been selling from car boots in and around London for seven years, has seen demographics change and popularity grow, which has helped him greatly in his business pursuits. “There’s definitely been a surge,” he says. But there are also disadvantages. “Seven years ago it was easier to buy better stuff. Now there’s a lot more competition,” he said, dealing with customers haggling to get a vintage Nike jumper down to five points or less.
“From a sales standpoint, it’s 10 times better because people are aware of it,” Stoten says. “There are more footprints.”
Another factor is “basically the lowest rents you can get compared to stores or other markets,” he says. A drive-in stadium in Balham car boots costs up to £35 and a walk-in of £10 is a small price to pay for the elite status of Portobello Road, where internal political power plays and money appear to be necessary to secure a stadium. Up to £50 on Saturdays.
Jenkins, 26, who frequently sells car boots, is moving inventory of Y2K fur coats and vintage Vivienne Westwood crop tops. “First we go to Portobello and then if we don’t get there we come down here,” she says. “Starting from £5 and going up to £25. It’s nice to get rid of things cheaply. It means everything is a lot less wasteful.” Chorlton says of his favorite car boot, Skirlington Market in East Yorkshire: “It’s like a community and it’s really fun.
Mother and son Balham, Andrea, 51, and Dash Bradley, 15, who have been in car boots for many years, echo these sentiments. “A lot of people are interested in buying used clothes and using apps like Vinted, but they don’t get the details of the actual person-to-person interaction with the products they’re buying,” says Dash.
“We like car boots.” Andrea says: “But we were going to get to them before they cooled off.”