Tag Archives: thrifting

Community and Clothes at The Nearly New Shop

Leave a reply

By Rania S.

I made my way down an alleyway that I might’ve missed without the help of Google Maps and climbed up the black staircase of the New Jersey thrift shop. I couldn’t help but think how creepy this all was. It almost felt like a kidnapping scheme of a ‘90s serial killer. I hesitantly creaked open the door.

Almost instantly, my eyes were drawn to the display at the very front. Three fabric mannequins dressed in Y2K-style clothing, antique teabag tins, a poster of an old Apple ad featuring an image of Albert Einstein, and a coffee table piled high with vintage magazines. This scenery was a complete turn-around in comparison with what I’d previously walked through, and I was compelled to find out more. 

“Hi!” said a woman in a faux-denim dress at the cashier register. We were greeted enthusiastically by Toni Maher, who wore a bright smile on her face.

Maher, owner of The Nearly New Shop in Princeton, reflected on where thrifting was ten years ago. She recalled middle and high school students “turning their noses up” when walking into the store, fearful of the unwritten social consequences that came with being caught shopping at a second-hand clothing store.

Today, thrifting is among the most popular fashion trends, skyrocketing by a whopping 117 percent since 2018 according to Capital One Shopping. Social media has successfully rebranded second-hand shopping as chic and ethical.

The Nearly New Shop has seen substantial growth since second-hand shopping arose as a trend among young people, namely, Gen Z. When COVID-19 hit, the internet came to life as people stuck at home shared their concerns regarding sustainability and began pushing people to switch from fast fashion to second-hand. Thrift stores across the United States saw a significant increase in retail sales and just like that, the store was back in the game.

I decided to discuss the sudden shift in the fashion industry with none other than the owner of The Nearly New Shop. Maher began telling me about what separates her store from the 25,000 other thrift stores in the country. “The store has been here for eighty years,” she says. Considering the mass bankruptcy of small businesses and even large corporations during COVID-19, surviving the apocalypse-like years of the 2020s is impressive. 

Maher went on to describe the changes the store had undergone alongside the shift in trends in order to maintain its success. “My husband’s a contractor, so all the wood that you see, he custom made,” she says, pointing to the renovated wooden floors.  She added that her children started up a social media account for the store and posted consistently on popular platforms like Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook. It was a family effort to advance their marketing technique as the world around them rapidly grew. 

The local thrift shop in itself was like one large family. There was a sense of close friendship — a dynamic you don’t see often in the retail world — between Maher and her co-worker Emily, who was attending to a customer. Local customers seemed to agree. “We came here before we even lived here,” says Kristin Mossinghoff, a long-time shopper at The Newly New Shop who was there with her daughter. The unique collection of items and kindness of the staff kept them coming back. 

Joeleen Corrales, another customer who has been coming for a year, says that the constant “refresh of clothing and organization” of the thrift shop was quite impressive to her. Notable brands like La Perla, J.Crew, Cole Haan, and even Chanel could be seen on the racks. She discussed how after her transformative weight loss journey, instead of replacing her entire wardrobe, she decided to go thrifting and was pleased with what she found. 

For others, what makes the little store so special is the comfort of familiarity among a rapidly changing world. 

Princeton, being among one of the wealthiest towns in the U.S., is home to expensive brands like J Crew, Rolex, Urban Outfitters, and more. The prices at The Nearly New Shop, however, have remained remarkably low, especially considering the increasingly common trend of nationwide gentrification among upper-class neighborhoods. Special discount days highlight the thrift store’s generosity; twice a year, they host something called “Bag Day” where customers can grab a large shopping bag and stuff it with whatever they want, the entire thing costing just $20. On another major discount day, the store offers half off all items.

In a world filled with uncertainty and chaos, The Nearly New Shop offers a sense of calm and collectedness, tight-knit community, and most importantly, flashy deals.

Nearly New Knows Their History, but They Aren’t Afraid of the Future

Leave a reply

By Diego G.

When faced with that narrow alley off of Nassau Street, I knew I could only go forward.  Walking down the dingy path, bordered by a shady fence of pines and a rust-stained brick wall with protruding window AC units, I could only hope a brighter future would lie ahead. And it did. Mecca was the cyan sign and cartoony butterfly icon that read in white serifed letters: Nearly New Shop.

The chic restaurants, designer boutiques, and the cozy liberal arts institution down the road vanished as I climbed a set of rustic black stairs into the charm of Toni Maher’s fashion haven.  A fluorescent orange door opened with a ring, and Princeton itself took a sigh of relief.

“Thrifting” is somewhat of a recent development, according to Maher.  She states–in subtle Jersey twang, complete with a large brunette blow-out and beaming white smile–that fifteen years ago, many teens would just “turn their nose up at thrifting”.  Things were obviously different now as I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the checkout line. 

Long before then, however, adversity was a cornerstone of Nearly New’s identity.  It was previously owned by the Princeton Day School to fund scholarships for low income students.   Maher, whose 4 children attended PDS, combatted the thought of it closing twelve years ago.  In 2012, she assumed ownership with the mission to serve her community and ensure that–while adding a few disco balls herself–Nearly New was still ultimately Princeton’s.  

With the wisdom of 80 years under her belt, Maher likely wasn’t used to explaining her business model in a curated world of color-coded tags and regulars–all of whom she knew by name–but did so gladly:  “We start from scratch twice a year.  Saturday, our $20 bag day, it empties the store.  I can show you pictures.”

I struggled to imagine the torso-height racks behind me–now teeming with an explosion of color-coded suits, jackets, and t-shirts–desolate.  But every February and August, Princeton showed up for Maher the same way she did for them year-round.  In a city where the average home price borders one million dollars, Maher’s devotion to low prices and local charities (who receive excess clothing) is nothing short of admirable.

She extends most of the credit to her support-system, which includes her husband, who had handcrafted wooden shelves and installed a custom floor, and her daughter, Alexis, who was responsible for their formidable social media presence. (I’d never seen a small business with a Snapchat profile before that day.) Her sons helped set up Square Space, upon noticing the rise of contactless payment.  Say what you want, they were with the times!

That day, customers flooded in and out, gawking at the $5 deal that applied to everything save furs and fine jewelry (the week before, everything was half off, Maher explained).  Even for locals, these sales fostered an infinite sense of excitement.  One regular beamed over a pink pair of peep-toe pumps.  Another perused the aisles with a burgeoning basketful of clothes, which Maher had specifically reserved for her.  

But the only person who benefited more than these women, their wallets, and the newly adopted pieces that day was Emily Battle.  Maher’s right hand woman worked in silence for the duration of our interview, except for the moments when her boss was particularly stumped.  “What’s the most unique thing we sell, hmm…Emily?”  The rugged woman jumped in, her quick, baritone speech bouncing off the walls while recalling memorable days at work and the function of what was apparently an antique lamb chop holder.  Her strong posture was framed by a layer of straight dirty-blonde hair; her tough demeanor concealed a certain kindness I struggled to pinpoint.  And while initially reserved, Battle revealed herself to be much more than just an eager, passionate salesperson.  She credits her job for having, quite literally, changed her life.  

She hopes to serve her community similarly.  Battle recalls a particularly vibrant day when a customer really needed something with a parrot on it.  Luckily, they had just that.  The parrot dress hiding somewhere in Nearly New’s infinite vault had fed them both: the customer with her niche request and Emily, who gained a story and a smile from the experience.

“It’s just a good scene.  I’m in the right place,” she stated decisively.

And that’s what keeps people coming back.  Emily Battle was not the kind of woman with a subscription to Vogue.  Toni Maher did not know that the back-aisle La Perla nightgown was probably worth more than the Chanel shopping bags and 2010 Michael Kors glasses in the display.  People like Maher and Battle aren’t in it for the Gucci watch in the big glass case.  They aren’t glued to their history, however many stories a near century of business may bring.  Their ultimate devotion is to the future of their community, whether that entails new friends or new shop improvements like fresh oak wood floors and Square Space; but they’ll never be without window ACs and your mother’s low-rise jeans.  It was a masterclass in modernization.  Beyond the physical realm, Nearly New is a place of community and kindness in its greatest form: from strangers.  However, beware that purchases may lead to membership in Maher and Battle’s thrifting family.

Before I left, I hesitantly checked out a fashion photography book.  Where I’m from, the unique cover–adorned with a giant, risque leg and blunt description reading LEG–would have never made its way to my local thrift store.  Then also, in my small central California town, buying such a suggestive book might be more embarrassing than buying a 30-pack of adult diapers.

“You got the ‘Leg’ book?” Emily beamed. “That’s so cool!”

As I re-entered the real world of downtown Princeton, my hand slowly let down to proudly display the provocative cover: boldly charismatic, old but new, and quirky.  Just like the Nearly New Shop.  I smiled.  Their work was done.