Pick'n'Mix - the joy of the chaz in '26!

Coxy11

https://forums.moneysavingexpert.com/discussion/comment/82112578#Comment_82112578

As someone who is starting volunteering in a CS this afternoon, this fills me with complete dread 😱

Watty1

I think I have that blue dress, bought for a wedding in TJ M the night before the wedding when I realised I couldn't get into my wedding outfit. I found a blue flower for my hat in same shop and a fabulous blue wrap for if it got cold. The dress has been to many a posh "do" but dressed down it works in winter with a polo neck under it and boots.

Brie

https://forums.moneysavingexpert.com/discussion/comment/82112578#Comment_82112578

seems to be behind a paywall which I can't get past.

DigForVictory

Also here The dirty secrets of what really happens to donated charity shop clothes

Brie

https://forums.moneysavingexpert.com/discussion/comment/82113923#Comment_82113923

still wants payment details even if you sign up for 4 months free.

Rosa_Damascena

Its a long read, but here goes:

While volunteers keep charity shops alive, a billionaire prince is profiting

Donating our unwanted clothes is intended to benefit those less fortunate, but the ultra-wealthy are literally turning rags to riches

Tansy HoskinsPublished 23 August 2026 6:02am BST708Gift this article freeAdd us as preferred source

https://cf-particle-html.eip.telegraph.co.uk/ac11ca60-3894-4137-8738-9cb60cc47832.html?direct=true&id=ac11ca60-3894-4137-8738-9cb60cc47832&leadasset=true&template=cls&preview-color-scheme=light

It’s late summer and the charity shop I work in is overwhelmed with donated clothes. My manager worked until 9pm last night trying to clear all the bags and boxes that have piled up in the store room. I’m going through some of these bags with Joan, a retired school worker, who started volunteering at the same time as me.

Joan and I work beside two big black dustbins with clear plastic bin liners in them. Unsellable shoes go in one and unsellable clothes in the other. We were taught to inspect each donated item carefully and make a judgment call on whether it can be sold in the shop based on its quality and condition, but after months of sorting worn clothes, you get tired of inspecting people’s old gym kit.

Advertisement

Today’s donations are mostly cheap-looking summer clothes and pyjama trousers from Tesco. They all go in the big black dustbins. Once these “ragbags” are full, I tie up the top and carry them out to the lean-to at the back of the shop, where the pile of bags is as tall as I am. This week, we generated 85 bags.

Charity shops in Britain are overwhelmed with stuff. The UK collectively donates an estimated 350,000 tons of clothes each year across 9,900 charity shops, but more and more shops are closing. This week, Oxfam announced that it would be considering closing up to 100 of its 500-plus stores across the UK. In June, The British Heart Foundation announced plans to close 150 of its 640 shops by the end of March 2028. The rise of hugely successful second-hand sites such as Vinted, eBay and Facebook Marketplace has certainly contributed to this wave of closures, but there’s another reason, one that becomes clear when you spend too much time sorting donations, like I did: much of what is being donated is rubbish.

Advertisement

Right from the start of my first shift at the charity shop in November 2022, I was shocked by how many of the donated clothes were in a terrible condition: torn, misshapen, dirty, bobbly, stained under the arms or just very worn. Then there’s the avalanche of fast fashion and ultra-fast fashion – poorly made synthetic clothing often donated with the tags still attached.

But the story of what happens to much of what we donate is far more complicated than we are led to believe. We’re taught that we’re “giving to charity” when we donate our old clothes, that we’re “doing a good thing”, but as with a lot of the recycling industry, the reality does not match our expectations, as I uncovered when I decided to investigate the issue.

Tansy Hoskins spent a year investigating the finances behind the UK’s worn-clothing exports Credit: Gareth Iwan Jones

That ragbag sack that I carried out to the back of the shop was collected by a “recycling company” van that would pull up outside the shop twice a week. We would throw all the ragbags into the back of the van and take a small payment – standard practice for most charity shops in the UK. Charity shops are dependent on these recycling companies, not because the money is good (in the past decade, the average price paid to charities for a kilo of worn clothes has dropped from 45p to 15p), but because charity shops are desperate to get rid of most of the old clothes they are given.

Advertisement

Today there are dozens of textile collection companies operating in the UK, typically based on the outskirts of big cities, though some big charities run their own collection services and have their own warehouses. Although the words “recycling company” are printed on these vans, the UK is not actually recycling old clothes to make new textiles on any mass scale. Teams of people stand along vast conveyor belts sorting the clothes into cold weather, warm weather, premium and rag. The clothes are then packed into bales, ready to be exported to other countries all over the globe.

These are not charitable aid packages going to people in need – this is a for-profit business. Bales of our worn clothes are sold to distributors around the world, who break them down into smaller bundles which are commonly resold, sight-unseen, to small stallholders in local clothing markets. The stallholders often go into debt hoping to be able to sell the clothes in local markets but are frequently forced to throw away much of what they’ve bought. It’s a business model that generates millions in profit but makes stallholders poorer.

Advertisement

The list of top importers of worn clothing fluctuates, but Pakistan has consistently been the largest for many years, acting mainly as a sorting hub for clothes that are then re-exported to other countries. Other top importers are the UAE, Ghana, Kenya and Poland.

Lorries carrying masses of imported clothing in Pakistan, one of the biggest recipients of unwanted garments Credit: Ameer Hamza

The problem is that clothes rejected by charity shops as dirty or torn are still dirty or torn when they arrive overseas. This means that the majority of our old clothes end up either in landfill or being incinerated. The landfill sites fill up incredibly quickly due to the volume of old clothes, leading to informal dumping sites, which spill over into rivers. Clothes are then washed into the sea, where they clog up beaches, leach toxic dyes into the water and harm wildlife. The alternative, incineration, is just as harmful, now that so many of the clothes being exported are made from plastic fibres. The smoke from these fires contains toxic carcinogenic substances such as benzene, styrene and toluene, which are emitted into the environment and cause more damage.

Advertisement

So it’s simply not true that exported second-hand clothing goes to the people who need it. In Ghana, for example, an estimated 15 million pieces of worn clothing arrive in the capital, Accra, every week, six million of which are estimated to be waste and end up burnt or dumped. The World Bank funded a Ghanaian landfill site that was supposed to operate for 15 years, except so many unsellable clothes kept arriving that it filled up within five. The rotting textiles caused a huge bubble of methane, which in August 2019 caught fire and burnt for months.

The Kpone landfill site in Ghana opened in 2013 and was at capacity within five years, despite a projected lifespan of 15 Credit: Nipah Dennis/Bloomberg

Who is ultimately making money from of all of this? I decided to investigate the finances behind these worn-clothing exports. The process spanned a year of poring through documents and account filings and speaking to forensic investigators, and weaved its way through tax havens and secrecy jurisdictions to the billionaire palaces of European royalty.

Advertisement

This is a story that revolves around a business called Textile Recycling International Ltd (TRI Group). Based just outside Wolverhampton, and with its registered office in Leeds, TRI Group described itself as “Europe’s largest collector and sorter of used clothing, shoes and textiles” on its website in 2025. Founded in 1986, TRI Group’s financial information is complicated by the fact that it now owns four other smaller recycling businesses in the sector. Records on Companies House showed that these businesses reported a cumulative annual turnover of more than £82m and profit totalling nearly £1.6m for the year ended March 31 2025.

https://cf-particle-html.eip.telegraph.co.uk/e2f64591-ed32-4149-8a98-578edf1a4c92.html?direct=true&id=e2f64591-ed32-4149-8a98-578edf1a4c92&template=cls&preview-color-scheme=light

Further digging on Companies House showed that TRI Group is owned by a private company called Textilesco BV, which is based in the Netherlands. Why would a Dutch company own all these British recycling businesses? I contacted the TRI Group multiple times by phone and email in the hope of hearing their story, but they never replied. In the summer of 2024, I decided to ask my friend Dylan Kennedy, founder of the financial due-diligence company Intelpool, for help with hidden financial records.

Little did I know how far down the rabbit hole we were about to go. By looking at Dutch business records, we discovered the structure below.

https://cf-particle-html.eip.telegraph.co.uk/134c796c-f037-4f2e-9b33-0cfca3338773.html?direct=true&id=134c796c-f037-4f2e-9b33-0cfca3338773&template=cls&preview-color-scheme=light

Waterland’s investments are not restricted to used clothing and textiles either. They have also included electricity-supply and gas-supply holdings, telecoms, fitness brands and service providers for institutions such as schools, nurseries and care homes. When approached, Waterland said it is “a pan-European investor with sustainability as one of our core investment themes”.

While Waterland does not publicly disclose how much money it makes, the website Violation Tracker – which draws its data from sources including the Health and Safety Executive and the Care Quality Commission – shows that Waterland has been fined nearly £2m (£1,969,793) in 68 penalty notices since 2010. Despite this record, in December 2023, Waterland was able to add to its portfolio by purchasing the Cumbria Waste Group – formerly a publicly owned and council-run recycling service in England. According to records on Companies House, Waterland paid £15m for the Cumbria Waste Group – before selling it again to a Spanish company in late 2025 for £76m.

Far from ending there, the story gets even stranger. In March 2024, TRI Group went into administration – at which point, Waterland states, its involvement with the group ceased. Yet from the ashes of TRI, and registered at the same address, rose a company called Textile Recycling International NewCo Ltd (TRI NewCo), with a structure that got even more interesting. According to the filed records, we could see that TRI NewCo was owned by a company called Textile Recycling International Topco Ltd, which was incorporated in April 2024. Records show that, at that time, 100 shares were created and divided between three shareholders.

https://cf-particle-html.eip.telegraph.co.uk/f9423d9e-10bd-4d3e-9f14-656b5d15057e.html?direct=true&id=f9423d9e-10bd-4d3e-9f14-656b5d15057e&template=cls&preview-color-scheme=light

In among those company names, the word “Crown” really stuck out to me. It seemed completely detached from all the stained T-shirts, torn pyjamas and worn-out leggings that I was still sorting through week after week. But there was a major problem: the address given for CEPD GP Sàrl is an avenue in Luxembourg – another country that allows investment funds to operate in secrecy.

As part of our investigation, Kennedy and I used a specialist financial database that includes corporate and trade data from more than 250 jurisdictions around the world, including records kept by the Luxembourg Register of Beneficial Owners. This allowed us to lift the veil of secrecy over who owns CEPD GP Sàrl. The register showed that the ultimate beneficial owner of the company was Fürst von und zu Liechtenstein, Hans-Adam II – perhaps better known as the Crown Prince of Liechtenstein.

We were so far from local charity shops on the British high street. Why on earth would a prince want to be involved with the sorting of old socks? In a supply chain that includes some of the poorest people on the planet, was this really who was at the top?

https://cf-particle-html.eip.telegraph.co.uk/1242032a-99ea-4aec-b7c0-8c758831325f.html?direct=true&id=1242032a-99ea-4aec-b7c0-8c758831325f&template=cls&preview-color-scheme=light

Prince Hans-Adam II is Liechtenstein’s reigning monarch. According to the Bloomberg Billionaires Index, in June 2025 he had a fortune of $10.5bn (£7.7bn); by August 2026, this had risen to $13.2bn.

At just over 15 miles long, Liechtenstein is the fourth-smallest country in Europe, known for its beautiful Alpine landscapes and castles. Prince Hans-Adam II is a hereditary monarch, which means that he shares political power with Liechtenstein’s parliament and has the power to dismiss MPs and veto legislation. Until a change in the constitution announced merely a week ago, Liechtenstein was the only European country not to allow women to succeed to the throne. Born in 1945, Prince Hans-Adam II had Pope Pius XII as his godfather.

Prince Hans-Adam II of Liechtenstein, pictured in 2010 Credit: Petr David Josek/AP

The prince’s fortune derives from LGT Group, a bank privately owned by the royal family of Liechtenstein. According to its annual report, as of December 31 2023, the company had assets under management of 316 billion Swiss francs (£290bn). On its website, LGT describes itself as a “global private bank for wealthy clients”. It also states: “Our owners, the Princely Family of Liechtenstein, recognised early on how important sustainability is for our environment, society and future.” This commitment to sustainability and “to acting responsibly in all areas that affect society, the environment, and the economy” was also emphasised by the head of communications for the Princely House of Liechtenstein when I contacted them for comment.

Through financial twists and turns, the prince of Liechtenstein owns Textile Recycling International Topco Ltd, and with it a large slice of British recycling infrastructure. We also found a May 2024 document that showed Textile Recycling International Topco Ltd had a “parent share charge” with a company called LGT Private Debt (UK) Ltd, which gives the Prince an additional means of controlling Topco.

Following the trail through Companies House, we could see that LGT Private Debt (UK) Ltd is controlled by LGT EC Holding Ltd, which in turn is controlled by LGT UK Holdings Ltd. Peeling back these financial tiers to discover who ultimately owns TRI through this debt structure also led back to HSH Prince Hans-Adam II von und zu Liechtenstein.

When I contacted them, the head of communications for the Princely House of Liechtenstein confirmed that Prince Hans-Adam II is listed as the ultimate beneficial owner of several UK recycling companies, but specified that the sole reason for this is “that he is the beneficiary of a Liechtenstein foundation which in turn indirectly holds the shares in LGT Private Debt, i.e. the manager or adviser of these investment funds”. It must be made clear that the fact of ownership implies neither that Prince Hans-Adam II has any involvement in investment or management decisions, nor that the Princely Family invested their own funds in TRI Group.

On the question of who the investors are, the Princely House noted: “The shareholders of the TRI Group are investment funds (Crown European Private Debt II and Marina Bay) managed or advised by LGT Private Debt. Investors in these funds are mostly global institutional investors, such as pension funds, endowments, foundations, insurance companies or family offices.”

This picture is a far cry from what we imagine when we hand over a donation at a charity shop, or stuff a bag into a metal textile bank hoping that it will go to a good cause. More than 223,500 people across the UK work unpaid as volunteers in charity shops, giving up their free time in the hope they are contributing to a good cause. But the people who are ultimately benefiting off this unpaid labour are some of the richest people in Europe.

Why were so many UK recycling companies tied into Dutch investment schemes, Cayman Island debt companies and, ultimately, the royal family of Liechtenstein? How is it that the prices paid to charities for these donations lack regulation? And why are there no rules stopping the export of waste? It is not hard to envisage another model where worn clothes are kept in public ownership and treated as potential rather than a problem – the infrastructure that surrounds them is obviously worth having if private-equity funds are buying them up.

A rubbish dump in Lahore, Pakistan. There are no rules stopping the export of textiles waste Credit: Arif Ali/AFP/Getty

Back at the charity shop, I push open the door and hear the bell jingle as I walk past the rails of clothes to the back room and see a wheelie suitcase and nine bags of donations all over the floor. I start clearing, but more bags arrive.

At the end of my shift, the recycling van pulls up and I help carry the sacks outside. I ask the driver whether doing this job made him change his relationship with clothes.

“Unless you do this job,” he says, “you don’t realise how many clothes there are in the world. There’s people struggling to get clothes and yet there’s all of this.” He gestures at the inside of the van, which resembles an adult ball pit: a mountain of sacks that you could jump into and get lost in.

Once the final sack has gone in the van, I take the payment on the shop’s card reader and head back inside to continue sorting.

Charity Shop World: An Investigation into Community, Consumption and Waste by Tansy E Hoskins (Indigo Press, £14.99) is published on September 3

C_J

Wow. Just wow.

Nelliegrace

Old cotton T-shirts and polo shirts cut up to make cleaning cloths. I keep a pot of small cloths to use instead of paper towels.

Brie

https://forums.moneysavingexpert.com/discussion/comment/82115308#Comment_82115308

This is what everyone used to do. Old tea towels, wash cloths, too trashed to be used for their intended purpose were added to the rag bag my mom kept in the cleaning cupboard. I started to do this when I first set up house with him indoors and he looked at me like I was completely mad!! And I've lost count of the number of cleaning cloth sets he has purchased over the years - most still in their packaging in the cupboard. The one thing we do agree about for cleaning is that the kitchen sponge eventually gets moved to the bathroom for use there cleaning the sink. When it is at the point of being used for the toilet it gets binned!

florianatwobob

Tshirts once they are past the point of no return are cut up into rags here too. I grew up with my mum doing it and they’re used for boot polish, dusters, floor cloths, drop cloths when painting and loads of other uses. The number of tradesmen who’ve asked if we’ve got any rags they could use is also quite high.