New spaces, ordinary practices: Circulating and sharing within diverse economies of provisioning

Diverse economies
Ordinary provision
Circular economy
Shared economy
Materialities

Nearly 10 years ago Gibson-Graham (2008: 614) argued that 'projects of economic autonomy and experimentation' were 'proliferating worldwide'. These 'diverse economies' offered an opportunity for geographers to bring 'marginalised, hidden and alternative economies to

light' (p. 613). Building upon their prior concept of 'community economies' (2006), Gibson's-Graham's 'diverse economies' involves an expansive variety of global-local forms of alternative and non-market transactions, paid and unpaid forms of labour, and alternative capitalist and non-capitalist types of enterprises. Drawing on feminist economies, but also notions of the social economy, this broad brush approach captured the heterogeneity and experimental aura of the then economic climate. It also circumvented the ongoing fierce debates about what is 'alternative' within the economy. Through a focus on relationality and embeddedness, their work conceives alternatives as 'continuously made (and unmade) through economic performance', as opposed to thinking about them as somehow 'out-there', pre-given constructs of an 'other' (Jones, 2010: 7).

More recent academic work has taken up Gibson-Graham's gauntlet of revealing diverse economies. Studies on community co-operatives (Coren and Clamp, 2014; Daya and Authar, 2012; Paddock, 2015), farmer's markets (Tchoukalesky, 2013; Vecchio, 2011) urban growing projects (McLain et al., 2013; Potter and Westall, 2013), cultural festivals (Gibson et al., 2009), community alliances (Wills, 2012) and credit unions (Jones, 2008) are just a few of the multitude of scholarly responses. And this response itself has not gone unnoticed within the academic community (Fickey, 2011; Lee et al., 2008). Indeed, a research focus on the hidden, alternative and experimental within the economy endures, as scholars 'continue to refine what constitutes a diverse economy and alternative economic space' (Fickey, 2011: 237). Caught up in this space are other economic formations all aiding the creation of the heterogeneity of this plural economy (Amin, 2009). Alongside the popular social economy (Amin, 2009), the foundational economy (Leaver and Williams, 2014; Morgan, 2015), care economy (Zelizer, 2013) and compassion economy (James, 2010) all form part of this discourse; similarly drawing upon ideas of social justice, co-operation and working for the common good. This paper is firmly positioned within this persistent questioning of the contemporary economic landscape; aiming to illuminate, however trivial, partial or informal they may be, other economic spaces, formations and practices.

Inherent within alternative and diverse economies is the notion of morality. As Sayer (2015: 292) notes 'all economies are moral economies in some respects', as they must all justify themselves and their actions. This reading complements the notion that these new economic spaces are not simply alterities to capitalism, as the two cannot be easily detached (Daya and Authar, 2012), but rather they are 'counter to the mono-culture of capitalism' (Gibson-Graham, 2008: 623). There is not the space in this paper to adequately engage with the extensive and often complex debates regarding the moral economy (see: Polanyi, 1957; Sayer 2000, 2003; Thompson, 1991). Rather it is only suffice to say, that the concept of the moral economy, as both an object of study and as a method of enquiry, is deployed typically (although by no means exclusively) by the alternative economies literature as a means of appreciating: the ethics of care; importance of human agency; reciprocal relations; and collective and community action inherent in some economic activities. Closely entwined with the moral economy, and equally as contested, is that of the gift economy, and likewise this is not something this paper will focus on. Volunteering, donations of time, money, materials are all forms of gifts which are regularly given to provisioning organisations – emergency or otherwise. As Caplan (2016) notes, the donation of food to a food bank or the volunteers' time are both gifts. Yet, despite the prominence of morality and gifting as inherent features of provisioning, and undoubtedly features which are also 'made material', it is the practices of sharing and circularity which are at the core of this article.

The sharing and circular economies are both new and increasingly popular concepts, which have gained significant traction within the overall economic landscape. However, they are only now really starting

to emerge within academic literatures (Martin, 2016). Furthermore, unlike the moral and gift economy which have a firm and recognised grounding in alternative provisioning, the scholarly link between SE and CE and such diverse provisioning economies has yet to be sufficiently made. Nevertheless, those studies which have engaged with SE and CE respectively, likewise note that they have a similarly contentious status as that of the moral and gift economy.

With regards SE, recent work, such as that of Hall and Ince (2017); Richardson (2015) and Schor et al. (2016) notes the concepts paradoxical framing, all at once having 'the capacity to be both alternative to and continuation of business-as-usual' (Richardson, 2015: 121). The incorporation of the likes of Airbnb and Uber under the rubric of SE only serves to emphasise capitalist undertones, and confuse the antinomies of alterity versus capitalism, ownership versus sharing; and monetary versus non-monetary organisations. This has led many to conclude that such endeavours should instead be known as the 'on demand economy', the 'access economy' or the 'crowdsourcing economy' (Schor et al., 2015: 17). Further complexity emerges when one considers what actually constitutes sharing within the SE. Schor et al. (2016) place an emphasis on trading; using four case studies, including a time bank, a food swap, a makerspace and an open access education site, to illustrate micro-level exchanges. Belk (2014b), however, would refer to such trading as a form of bartering or 'pseudo-sharing' because of the reciprocal nature of such exchanges and the ultimate transfer of ownership of goods. Rather, Belk (2014a:1596) stresses the need to recognise the distinction between 'non-ownership-based sharing and that which involves the transfer of ownership' and reciprocal exchange, including gift giving.

However, where consensus is reached is that the internet is facilitating a new era of sharing (Belk, 2014a), with a focus on 'access' as opposed to 'ownership' of goods (Botsman and Rogers, 2011) through digital platforms (Schor et al., 2015). Likewise, it is worth noting how scholars are linking the sharing economy to sustainable forms of consumption (Heinrichs, 2013; Martin, 2016; Botsman and Rogers, 2011). Such work refers to how the sharing of resources can reduce environmental impacts, such as car sharing reducing an individual's carbon footprint. However, they also reference the impacts of sharing on wider issues of waste. Heinrichs (2013: 230), for example, mentions upcycling and finding new uses for items; and indeed websites such as Freecycle and Yerdle are often deemed part of SE (Walker in Schor et al., 2015). Likewise, Product Service Systems (PSS) is a term which is beginning to creep into social science literature, referring to a business model which can foster schemes that enable the renting, upgrading and redesigning of materials (Tukker, 2015; Hobson, 2016; Piscielli et al., 2015).

To date, the majority of work on CE has focused on large-scale manufacturing and industrial processes, and their adoption of closed loop, cradle-to-cradle processes to maximise efficiency (Abu-Ghunmi et al., 2016; Lieder and Rashid, 2016). Circular economy is defined by WRAP (2017) as a model which keeps resources in use for as long as possible, avoiding make-use-dispose linear models. However, recent political interest in the concept has propelled a shift, not only in its popularity, but also its reach. The European's Commission now has a 'Circular Economy Package' designed to help 'European businesses and consumers to make the transition to a stronger and more circular economy where resources are used in a more sustainable way' (European Commission, 2015). Likewise, the Ellen MacArthur Foundation is solely focused on promoting economic circularity that is 'restorative and regenerative by design' including business, government and academia (Ellen MacArthur Foundation, 2012). This wide-ranging endorsement of CE, alongside its political broadening to include consumers, has led a few academics to begin to question the scope and potential spatiality of the concept. As Hobson (2016: 99) argues, close attention needs to be paid 'to spaces where disparate forms of CE may emerge and/or be fostered in forms and ways that current analyses of the CE omits'.

In a previous study with others (Mylan et al., 2016), I argue for recognition of the domestic as a site of CE; where practices that constitute domestic life, including food sharing, repurposing and recycling, already involve the circularity of materials. Similarly, Hobson (2016: 96) alludes to the importance of the household, and the materials which flow in and out, in expanding CE's realm. In addition, and as already noted, connections are being made between CE and SE. Lacy and Rutqvist (2015) describe the sharing platform, and the likes of Uber and Lyft Inc, as CE business models. Whilst not expressively stating the varying forms of economy at work, research by Niinimäki and Hassi (2011) likewise draws upon the links between PSS schemes involving fashion items, and more sustainable, circular modes of consumption. Thus, it is evident that the division between SE/CE is blurred and the two are often interwoven. Hobson (2016) also makes these connections to PSS and the interweaving of CE/SE, referencing models such as Zipcar. However, Hobson (2016) pushes at this further, referring to social enterprises and 'generative spaces' (p.98) of everyday activism, such as repair cafes, as spaces of the CE. Hobson's work bridges the lacunae between the sharing and circular economies, opening up the possibilities that diverse economic spaces offer to issues of circularity, sustainability and activism. As Hobson states (2016: 99), there is potential for 'rich engagement, through both further conceptual and empirical exploration'. This article empirically fleshes out what such spaces look like and how they engage in practices of circulating and sharing.

Yet this paper pushes further at Hobson's argument into its focus on these activities being forms of ordinary practice, organised and structured in original and novel ways. The notion of the diverse economy echoes the sentiments made in Pahl's (1984) earlier seminal work 'Divisions of Labour' to reveal taken for granted, mundane, everyday economic activities. As Pahl (1984:251) concludes, such practices are 'not so much a coping mechanism of the poor, as a reflection of a particular kind of lifestyle based on the skills and reciprocities of the work of everyday life'. The work of Richard White (2009) offers an updated confirmation of Pahl's earlier conclusions, noting how 'mutual aid' in both deprived and affluent neighbourhoods plays a vital social role yet is still underestimated. Similarly, conclusions are made in the work of Hall and Ince (2017:9) and their recognition that sharing is not just a response to crisis (see also: Hall and Holmes, 2017; Smith and Stenning, 2006) but something which is 'embedded in everyday politics, ethics and relationalities'. As Belk (2014a: 1595) notes, the sharing economy is not the new economic exemplar that it is purported to be, but rather is a 'phenomenon as old as humankind'. Likewise, the work of Clarke (2001) on the circulations of children's clothing through both informal networks and organised events, alongside that of Angela McRobbie (1989) on second hand clothing, not only highlights that notions of circularity, sharing and CE/SE have always been features of everyday, what we might term 'ordinary', economic practice, but also how the structures and spaces of such practices are changing.

This article illustrates how through a focus on materiality these new and emerging diverse economies, operating on the fringes of domestic and informal networks, can be illuminated: their practices, ambiguities and intimacies revealed. In many ways this material emphasis involves drawing upon a 'following the thing' approach; trying to understand how the objects and materials of provisioning move into, through and out of these endeavours through circulating and sharing ('follow the thing' approaches track objects from raw material to disposal, examples include: Cook, 2004 on papaya; Norris, 2005 on discarded Western clothing). Yet, vitally it is also about appreciating what these materials of provisioning afford, the practices they enable and the value they hold to the organisation and its members/users. It involves addressing how their very materiality - their fibres, textures, patterns and forms (Miller, 2005) - influences what happens to them and how they are circulated and shared. It requires examining how they form part of people's biographies and in turn have biographies of their own (Humphries and Smith, 2014; Woodward, 2007). From challenging issues of social

exclusion and sustainable resource use, to also inadvertently reproducing the very inequalities such endeavours seek to overcome, the materials of provisioning and the circulating and sharing they afford, bring to life such new and emerging spaces, and the very ordinary practices they encompass.

Coffee Club meets once a week in a local primary school in East Lancashire. The group started out as a coffee morning, ran by two (non-teaching) staff members at the school, Kate and Haiza, who were tasked with engaging parents, particularly parents from BME communities. As time went on Haiza and Kate got to know the parents, who were mainly women (and identifying as BME), and to understand some of the challenges they face on a weekly basis. One such challenge was providing decent food for their families on limited budgets. Between them, Haiza and Kate, devised a food element to Coffee Club, building upon Kate's previous experience and knowledge in establishing and running a local food bank. However, unlike a food bank model, which almost exclusively involves providing free food to service users, Kate and Haiza's model involves membership and payment. As Kate explains:

Coffee club provides access to incredibly inexpensive food...it's a non-means tested group. People access the group for one of three reasons: one that they want to alleviate food poverty, two that they want to have assistance with household budgeting, or three that they want to reduce food waste

Kate, interview, Coffee Club founder

For £4 per month people can become a member. They then pay a further £2.50 per week. This entitles them to three bags of food per week, estimated at approximately £30–40 retail value. Alternatively, people can pay-as-they-go, however, this costs £5 per week. Therefore, becoming a member is cheaper at £14 per month, as opposed to £20. Anyone can become a member, and Coffee Club has now opened its doors to members of the public and people who do not have children at the school. This has meant a number of the school's teachers joining and also the headmaster. The idea around charging people is to remove any shame or stigma attached to receiving food, as has been well documented by food bank literature (see: Caplan, 2016; Williams et al., 2016), and to provide some level of equitability amongst members. Members are contacted and reminded through an online Whatsapp group.

The membership fee covers the cost of the food, which is derived from two sources. The first is free food which is provided by a local Tesco store under Fareshare's trial of the Foodcloud app (see: http://www.fareshare.org.uk/fareshare-foodcloud-in-tesco-stores/). This app works by alerting local organisations when surplus food becomes available. This is normally food which is about to reach its use-by/sell-by/best before date, and can no longer be sold at the store. It will generally have also gone through the stores reduction procedures, being reduced mid-morning to 90% of the cost, then 75%, then 50%, then 25% by early evening. At this point the organisations on the rota for that evening are contacted by text message through the app to alert them that food is available, how much there is and what it is – ambient (tins etc), fresh, chilled or frozen. Those organisations then reply to say they will or will not collect it that evening. The second source of food is from Fareshare and this is where the membership costs are used. The organisers pay £100 per month for 25 trays of food. As per the Tesco food, this is food which is surplus, often close to its use-by/sell-by/best before date and is also a range of different food types, however, its branding shows that it is derived from a number of the big supermarket brands

The night before Coffee Club the Tesco food is collected by either Kate or Haiza and is stored in the school. On the morning of Coffee Club, a driver is paid (from the membership fees) to collect the Fareshare food from their depot approximately 20 miles away and deliver it to the school. The food is then laid out on tables - not dissimilar to a shop in terms of categorising different food types (see Figs. 1 and 2), people pay their weekly fee, and the filling of bags (people must bring their own) begins. Haiza and Kate, and a couple of

volunteers, stand behind the tables serving and are often assisted by Tesco staff sent from the local store to help out. Items are restricted to one or two of each thing, depending on availability. Any food leftover, after everyone has been served, is given to the school's breakfast club and after school club. Before the food arrives, and whilst people are being served, the members mingle having a coffee, swapping stories, advice and often recipes.

As the above has indicated, the diverse economic space of Coffee Club is alive with practices of sharing and circularity, illuminated by the materials they provision. As Kate's initial quote illustrates, one of the group's main aims is to reduce food waste. This is captured and diverted from a variety of sources and re-circulated into the economy (alternative/diverse) to be consumed. This is could be likened to a CE model, whereby surplus food is redistributed rather than wasted and its energy and value released via its consumption, rather than its disposal. Not only is waste food being diverted from landfill/anaerobic digestion and used to its intended potential (e.g. being eaten), the locality of Coffee Club also ensures that such food is not travelling great distances to be dealt with, thus also negating any air pollution and energy use costs.

At a smaller scale we can also see other ways in which Coffee Club intersects with notions of circularity and sharing. Sharing (albeit 'pseudo-sharing' in Belk's (2014b) sense) occurs through the members' access to the food. Food is 'shared' by Tesco and other partners. Moreover, and in line with the concept of the new sharing economy as an internet based phenomena (Belk, 2014a; Schor in Schor et al., 2015),

this is through the digital platform of Foodcloud. This then filters down through a further digital platform of the Whatsapp group between the members. The social element of coffee club also enables a number of other ways of sharing and circulating amongst members. One morning, one member bought in a stack of rhubarb she had grown which was going spare and shared it out to those who wanted it. As Pahl (1984: 250) often the tasks of reciprocity and exchange performed for others are often an extension of tasks one already undertakes. In this case, the rhubarb was something the woman had grown for herself, but she was happy to share out the surplus as it was simply an extension of her own informal labour. Pahl's argument is further corroborated when we learn that the rhubarb was then returned, and re-circulated, some weeks later as jars of rhubarb and ginger jam that another member had made with the shared rhubarb. Furthermore, someone else then wanted to do a project which involved jam jars, so all the empty jars were then returned back into the group for this member to use. Thus, in this instance circularity and sharing intertwine and it is not entirely clear where one practice begins and another ends; rather they form part of these embedded ordinary practices of being part of the group.

However, it is not just material items which are circulated and shared through the diverse economic space of Coffee Club. Advice and skills are also a crucial element. As Kate has mentioned, the group teaches people to budget and 'making sure that people realise there is a cost involved, albeit small, so that they have to allow for it within their budget that week'. Yet such practices are wider than the original remit of the founders. As Kate notes 'people work on problems together'. One example concerns how to use different and unknown foods provided at group:

A lot of people have taken home foods they have never used before and have come back and reported that they managed to make soups or stews or incredible dishes, and such ideas and recipes get shared around.

Kate, Coffee Club Founder

In a similar vein to using new types of food, others have benefitted from new cooking skills:

We have got a member of staff who accesses it.....he talks about how it's made a massive difference to him because he's learned to cook things. He didn't cook at all and now he cooks, so he's learned these skills through attending as well.

Kate, Coffee Club Founder

Thus advice, knowledge and skills are also shared and circulated amongst the group. This is taken one step further if we consider the emotional support the group supplies:

It's quite a gentle group who are looking for ways to help each other. We had two families that have really needed [the] service, and we've received a written thank you from one of them actually.

From being space for people to discuss problems; to enabling others where English is not their first language to feel relaxed; to giving people the support they need during times of financial hardship, the group shares and circulates more than material goods but also forms of emotional and social support.

In the space of coffee club the material value of the provisioning objects, the food/tea and coffee, comes to be worth much more than its actual monetary value. As Kate notes 'because there's a sociable eating and drinking element, it makes people relaxed, and they want to chat'. Thus, the food acts as a conduit to provisioning much more than just itself, but also enables the circulating and sharing of less tangible and more emotional types of support. Thus Coffee Club's 'circular economy' is more than just materials. Yet, returning to the work of Pahl (1984: 137), none of these practices are new, 'the norms of reciprocity and complexity of social relationships surround the transaction'. These ordinary practices are embedded in the social relationships created by Coffee Club. What is extraordinary is the 'generative' (Hobson,

2016:98) spaces and structure which the group occupies; in this case a novel, non-emergency, membership-based provisioning group.

Clothes swapping is an increasingly popular phenomena; from dedicated 'swishing' websites (see: swishing.co.uk), to pop up clothes swapping events in vintage stores and community spaces (see: Purvis, 2014); to more informal gatherings in people's homes, clothes swapping is seemingly replacing the jumble sale or bring and buys of the 1980s and 90s. In this case study I look at one such event, held bi-annually by one of my project's participants Rebecca. Rebecca is a full time mum of four in her 30s. She lives in a three bed, semi-detached privately rented home in a quiet suburban area approximately ten miles outside of the city of Manchester. She started holding swapping parties several years ago due to a period of financial difficulty when her husband lost his job. Such parties have not just focused on clothes, but have included kitchen appliances, DVDs/CDs, children's toys and even recipes. As Rebecca explains, the impetus for holding them is 'to get a new wardrobe for the expense of a few things you no longer wear, whilst at the same time having a really nice time'. Rebecca is very focused on dignity and the swap providing dignity to those 'financially feeling in a bad position', or who may be struggling due to other personal circumstances, such as new mums trying to meet other people and deal with their changing bodies.

The parties generally involve approximately 15–20 attendees – all women; invited by Rebecca through Facebook. They are a mix of ages, sizes and backgrounds. Some know each other, but many only know Rebecca. Rebecca's 'mix' of people is deliberate, as she says herself she invites people she thinks might benefit from such an event, such as new mums:

'I wanted to give it a community feeling..... with new mums it's important to get into a network that is friendly ...after being pregnant – you are forced into getting a new wardrobe as nothing is in the right place anymore... like last time I think we got ten new people which sort of mixes it up and it doesn't get cliquey'

Unlike some clothes swaps, there is no commitment to bring a set amount of clothes, nor are you only allowed to take away as many items as you bought (van der Zee, 2014); you can arrive with three items and leave with ten that is part of the ethos. Nor is it only clothing which is brought along, but shoes, accessories, and also jewellery; all of which is laid out and ordered around the downstairs of Rebecca's home. In the one I attended, Rebecca had clothing rails in her living room with dresses, jeans, trousers and tops all separated out (see Fig. 3). Jackets and coats were on another rail in the hallway. In the playroom were

accessories, with handbags arranged on top of a book shelf, and scarves folded neatly on the piano (see Fig. 4); whilst in the kitchen, jewellery was arranged on her kitchen table (see: Fig. 5), and shoes were sorted along a bench (see Fig. 6), along with crisps and drinks available on the

kitchen island. As I will go on to discuss, this element of display was important in the way that attendees engaged with the clothes and each other.

As Rebecca explains the 'rules' of the clothes swap are as follows:

'So you lay everything out, people come and browse for an hour and have these little tag things, and whatever you want, write on it what the item is and put your name in one of the boxes. If someone else comes along they write their name – and if no one else tags the item it's yours, but if other people have tagged it, it goes into a hat and you just pick one out. It feels fairer and it stops the kind of manic ness of running around and people trying to grab all the goods.'

During 'browsing' people were trying things on, getting changed in Rebecca's bathroom or holding items up in front of the full standing mirror she brought down from upstairs. Others would comment on what people were trying on, saying something looked nice, or have you tried it with these boots or this scarf. Often such comments might be from a complete stranger, but as Rebecca notes this is all part of the process of 'browsing, talking to other people. "Do you think that will suit?"

As per Coffee Club, clothes swap offers a diverse economic space alive with the practices of sharing and circularity, materially stabilised by the very stuff of provisioning. According to WRAP (2016), 350, 000 tonnes of clothing is sent to landfill every year, whilst 30% of clothes in UK wardrobes have not been worn for at least a year. Whilst it could be contended that clothes swapping simply fulfils the same role as charity shops in re-circulating and re-purposing unwanted goods, there is an argument to be made that the practice of swapping encourages people to consider items in their wardrobes which are neither 'waste' nor 'want', but somewhere in a grey space of neither (see: Woodward, 2015 for a similar discussion regarding clothing; Gregson, 2007; Hetherington, 2004 on general household objects; and also Evans, 2012 on food). Whilst anything can be sent to a charity shop and a great deal of it is sent for 'ragging' (Gregson et al., 2002; Norris, 2005), certain assumptions and judgements are made about what is suitable for swapping, and for others (soon to be known others) to see, touch, feel and potentially wear. Rebecca notes how people 'like to bring clothes or accessories that have been more special to them and are eager to see them go to a good home.' Often these items have a particular biography, such as a Ted Baker dress, brought along by one participant who recognised its kudos as a high end brand, but said it 'just was not her style', preferring something more 'biker' than 'floaty and feminine'. Others valued items because of particular sentiments they attached to them, such as remembering certain occasions when they had worn them, or perhaps people who had bought the items for them. For example, one woman bought along a pair of ornate clip-on earrings given to her by her mother-in-law. She loved the earrings but found them too uncomfortable to wear, hence why she wanted to bring them to the swap. Other biographies included items which no longer fitted, but because of their material qualities – made of valued materials such as wool and silk – participants wanted to ensure they got a second life. Thus, the value placed upon the clothing in terms of its life cycle, future possibilities and material state becomes critical to its circular status. Lee (2010: 277) talks about economic geographies as 'material circuits of value, by means of which value is consumed, exchanged and produced through time and across space'. This is brought to life by Rebecca's practice of taking any leftover clothing to her local church for people to take, and anything still left over goes to the charity shop. Whilst this conveys the inherent domestic circular economy of the clothes swap, it also takes this one step further by illustrating that there are varying stages to the circular process, not unlike the now well-known food waste pyramid (see: http://www.feeding5k.org/businesses+casestudies.php). Something similar can be seen with how Coffee Club passes on and recirculates surplus items to the school's breakfast club to avoid waste. In both instances, a process of circulation occurs through time and space, whereby items which have not been used as

intended by the groups get 'passed on' to others who are deemed able to extract (or even add) value from them.

Again interwoven into this circularity are also notions of sharing. Rebecca talks about how stuff comes 'back around', with clothes reappearing at subsequent clothes swaps, as people have had their wear out of them. Whilst this is part of the circular economy, it could also be classed as a form of sharing, as different people access the same clothes but at varying times. Rebecca also notes how often friends who cannot make the swap will still drop clothing off, essentially sharing it with the clothes swap, and might come and take a look at what is leftover at a later date. Once everyone has looked at the clothes for themselves, and items decided upon, Rebecca invites them to look for friends and family, essentially widening the circle. In a broader sense, circularity occurs through the removal of the usual parameters and expectations of shopping in store. There are no 'seasons' or 'trends' at clothes swap but rather an eclectic mixture, whereby thick winter jumpers can be found with summer dresses, and this season's latest trousers with thirty year old vintage dresses. Hence there is a distinct, almost stilted temporality, which does not mirror the normative consumptive trends of 'fast fashion' (Joy et al., 2012).

This 'slow' temporality created by the clothing becomes intertwined with the very ethos of clothes swap. Unlike shopping trips which can feel fraught and pressurised, clothes swap is literally a 'slow' form of consumption: people take their time, they browse, try on, chat, eat and drink. The materiality of the clothing, along with that of Rebecca's home, creates a very particular atmosphere. Attendees come together not just because of the materiality of the clothing, but because of the extra value this materiality affords; talking, laughing, advice, feeling part of a 'community' as Rebecca notes 'they can have a glass of wine and get to know each other and relax'. Thus, like Coffee Club the materiality of the clothing is a conduit to something greater than just the face value of the clothing. The clothing acts as a vehicle for the circulation and sharing of social and emotional forms of support. Whilst clothes swapping events are bagged as a new phenomena, the swapping, sharing and circulating of clothing between social networks is not. As Clarke's (2001) study on the circulations of children's clothing illustrates, this form of 'work' enables the creation of women's social spaces and the 'perpetuation of this sociality relies on the status of the material culture' (2000: 91). In other words, such events are as much about swapping clothes as they are about providing social networks. Like Coffee Club these are age old practices of provisioning, providing not just resource but also sociality (Belk, 2014b; Pahl 1984); what are different are the spaces and structures which they adopt. The new 'jumble sale', clothes swaps are organised through digital means, often taking place in domestic settings, and involve non-monetary exchanges, all the whilst focusing on sociality. They are an extraordinary form of economy, through the deployment of ordinary practices.