This App That Lets You Rent Out Your Clothes Is Way Simpler Than It Sounds

What does Pickle do?

All too often, I see an ad for a new app, tap on the App Store link, and install on sight—not best practices, I know, to let the algorithm win. A few weeks ago, I saw an ad for an app called Pickle, which is a peer-to-peer clothing and accessory rental service. Think DoorDash for fashion, except you're the restaurant. I couldn't help myself and got it right away, although I wasn't sure how it would work out. It was, admittedly, different from what I'm used to messing around with. But, as it turns out, it's become one of my favorite weapons in my war to clear out my closet.

You see, over the last year, I've gotten into selling my clothes via app, but it's been limiting because I own a lot of pieces I don't really want to get rid of—yet. Still, I can't wear them all at the same time, can I? So they're just sitting in my closet, waiting for their turn to shine. Pickle gives me a chance to put them to work. I listed a bunch of stuff, checked what others on the app were charging for a week's rental of similar items, and priced my goods competitively. Then, I waited—but not for long. I got my first rental request the next day. Since then, I've rented out quite a few of my pieces and, as of this weekend, even borrowed someone else's bag myself. Pickle takes a 20% cut of your earnings, but the money you make goes into a balance that can either be transferred to your bank account or used to rent other things on the app.

I'll get into listing your clothes in a second, but as for actually borrowing, it's easy. Type in what you're looking for and, if you want, sort by price or distance, as well as availability. Place your rental request, and wait for approval. The rest depends less on the app itself and more on the owner of what you're looking for.

On a few occasions as a seller, I've approved a day-of rental for someone who needed a bag or shoes that same night, but usually, you'll want to request an item at least a few days before you'll actually want it. For instance, when I rented a bag for this weekend, I put in my request two weeks ago. When possible, I do recommend trying to be early to avoid last-minute problems, especially if you'll be requesting shipping or an in-person handoff. But if you feel like you need some help, there's also a feature called "Looking For" where you can describe what you'd like to wear for a particular event and loaners can suggest pieces from their collections or even other users' closets.

"Looking For" actually mirrors what Pickle was originally designed to do and be: When I chatted with co-founder Brian McMahon, he told me that Pickle wasn't always intended to be a rental app. Instead, when it launched in 2021, it was intended as a way to poll likeminded fashionistas about which clothes were worth buying.

"The whole idea was to introduce social proof into the purchasing process," he says. "What we noticed was in the comments of a lot of these polls, people were recommending stuff that they already owned." He and co-founder Julia O'Mara shifted their focus to creating a platform that would enable people to share the items they recommended. Ther started by asking O'Mara's trendiest friends to list the items from their closet, and have been working on growing Pickle into its current form ever since. The app doesn't restrict you to only buying or renting clothes, too, although that's primarily what it's known and used for. In the future, McMahon says, he wants to broaden Pickle so people can easily rent anything on it, from musical instruments to camera equipment.

How does listing on Pickle work?

The app functions very similarly to other resale platforms like Poshmark or Depop: You take a picture of your shoes, bag, dress, or whatever, fill in details about it like size and brand, and set a price. Here, though, the price is what you want to charge for a week's rental, rather than a full sale. You also indicate, via drop-down menu, whether you're willing to have someone show up at your place to pick it up, or if you want to send it off with a courier or even via the mail. That last option really broadens your options, since Pickle's base of users mostly operates in New York City (where I live) and Los Angeles. But with shipping available, you can rent or lend, even if you live in a tiny town where no one else is using the app (yet). Whether you're in NYC, Dallas, Miami, or Bismarck, North Dakota, you can use Pickle.

But if you do happen to live close to who you're renting from, a courier might be your best bet. Because Pickle's couriers come from linkages with other delivery apps like Uber Eats and Doordash, you can use the courier service in any location where there is a pre-existing network of delivery drivers. Personally, I haven't enabled shipping as an option on any of my goods, but only because I've found face-to-face handoff and courier service so easy and accessible where I live. McMahon cautions that the app is likely to show you available items near you before showing you recommendations from farther away, so if you're open to having a rental shipped to you, make sure you toggle off "Near Me" in the top row of options when you search for an item.

You can sell via the app, as well, and all that requires is listing a separate sales price alongside the rental price.

My "closet" and how it looks to edit a Pickle listing. Credit: Lindsey Ellefson

When someone rents a piece from you, they first send a request outlining the way they'd like to receive it and how long they want to have it. From there, you can enter a chat with them to hammer out details or just accept their request. On the first day I tried Pickle, I accepted an offer sent to me and selected the day and time I would be home to hand my parcel off to a courier. The next morning, a courier showed up, took it, and brought it to the borrower, with whom I had arranged for a four-day rental. I was able to track the item's progress the whole way to the renter, was able to chat with her for the duration of the rental, and was also able to track it on its return journey to my apartment when the rental was finished. I listed the piece for $30/week, Pickle took 20%, and I earned $24 despite the fact that, in that case, my item wasn't even going be gone for the full week. Even if a renter wants something for just a night or two, they pay the whole week's rental price (unless you accept a lower offer).

You get constant updates on the whereabouts of your things. Credit: Lindsey Ellefson

How does Pickle keep your stuff safe?

I have not been able to shut up about Pickle since I started using it. There are so many things I love about it—like making extra money off things I already own, the fact that renters send back little notes or thank-you presents when they're done with your pieces. I've even gotten to meet some really cool women during handoffs and see my shoes and bags in their Instagram posts—it feels wrong not to spread the word about that. But, see, I'm a very trusting and happy-go-lucky person. I didn't think twice about downloading this app, nor did I have a single reservation the first time I sent one of my most valuable and fashionable possessions away with a bike messenger. Everyone I've told about this, however, has asked what I now recognize to be a very reasonable question: What happens if the renter damages or steals your item?

There is a very strict protection policy in place, as it turns out. If someone sends you back a damaged item, Pickle can hold them liable for associated repair costs (which you will have to demonstrate). If it's unfixable, they have to pay for a fair replacement. If the item is lost or isn't returned at all, you submit proof of purchase and get reimbursed. Amazingly, if the thing you rented out is no longer available on the retail market or its value is higher than what you bought it for, the Pickle team even works with you to get you the fairest compensation possible.

A situation like this hasn't befallen me yet, but a friend of mine did damage an item she was renting. Her card on file was charged the full price of the item and she was, unfortunately, banned from Pickle. You can take some comfort in knowing that the app takes the safety of your stuff seriously, which you'll also notice when you're signing up. You have to sign up with a Stripe account and verify your identity before you're allowed to list or rent anything. Pickle is at least doing its part to prevent scams and rectify issues.

But while I haven't had any major problems, I have had two more minor ones. On one instance, a courier refused to take my parcel, saying it needed to go farther than they wanted to drive at that time. The app, however, still showed the rental piece as being "en route" to the renter. I didn't want her to be screwed out of getting the shoes she'd paid for, so I contacted customer service via a chat box in the app. They responded in under five minutes, dispatched a new courier, and saved the day. On another instance, a renter was late returning my bag and didn't respond to messages I sent. I toggled on the option to charge late fees, got an extra $8 per day, and eventually got my bag back with no issue. There are mechanisms in place to ensure your comfort and safety.

Another concern users may have is cleanliness or overall care and quality when renting. If something you rent arrives completely unusable or dirty, customer service says it will work with you on a solution, whether that includes a partial refund or finding you a new item in time for your event. Beyond that, as with any app, you don't have much control over how the other person involved in your transaction packages or presents the goods. Pickle is very much community-oriented, which I have learned during my weeks of use, and which McMahon reemphasized during our chat. According to him, that community element has an effect on people's behavior. It's uncommon, he says, for someone to rent out a sub-par or dirty item, as the entire experience feels personal and no one wants to give out something low-quality. I can vouch that this app feels more personal than, say Rent the Runway, because you talk back and forth with the other person, negotiate prices, explain what you're wearing the item to, write personal thank-you notes to accompany the piece, and, sometimes, even send back little gifts to the person you borrowed from. Because most rentals take place locally or among people with similar styles or other things in common, the feeling of community—and the possibility you might actually know the renter or run into them in real life—stops you from sending out something gross or low-quality. Plus, like any other similar app, Pickle does rely on ratings. If you repeatedly return or rent out damaged items, your rating will be low. According to McMahon, not only does this "naturally" signal to other users that you shouldn't be rented to or from, but it affects how much your listings are promoted on the app itself. So, while there's a risk you could inadvertently borrow an unlaundered dress, it's not too likely. The threat of a low rating or upsetting the social order is sufficient to stop most people from renting out something undesirable.

Why I like Pickle a route to decluttering

There are obvious benefits to using a closet-rental app. First, you can put your extra stuff to work for you and make a little money off of it. Second, you can rent clothes and accessories for special occasions at a major discount without adding to any consumerist clutter you may have going on—but that leads me to a hidden benefit. I consider Pickle as being similar to a "purgatory" box, which is a method for decluttering that doesn't require you to make instant decisions about what stays and what goes. Most decluttering techniques are pretty harsh. They call on you to go through a space in your home and make fast choices about what you keep, what you toss, what you donate, and what you sell. Doing that enough times builds a habit and you learn to be less sentimental, but it's still hard. Personally, I'm terrible at doing it with clothing and accessories, because I can trick myself into believing I might need anything for a certain outfit in the future. It's not true, of course; I never really miss anything once I've sold it. But it's still difficult to push myself to get rid of items, so they sit there in my closet. With Pickle, I can send them out for days or weeks at a time, which mirrors the experience with the purgatory box that holds your stuff for a month so you can see what it's like not to have access to it. Doing this enough times (and getting paid to do it!) can help lessen your emotional connection to something and, eventually, help you sell or donate it.

Conversely, Pickle can also help you declutter by providing you with a fallback plan when you do decide to get rid of something. Consider the 20/20 decluttering rule, which asks you to consider if you could replace something for under $20 and in less than 20 minutes if you got rid of it, then encourages you to do away with it if the answers are yes. Clearly, if you choose to sell or donate, say, a black purse that's just sitting in your closet, you won't get a similar one off Pickle in under 20 minutes or, probably for under $20—but it's nice to know that if you did get rid of something you ended up needing for a particular occasion, you could rent a replacement without re-cluttering your space.

Do you need Pickle?