About two-thirds of American women are plus-size, but here in L.A., you’d never know that by looking at the shifting retail landscape. Mass market plus-size retailers like City of Industry-based Torrid are closing dozens of stores, while big-box stores including Target and Old Navy have been stealthily reducing the amount of plus-size stock they carry on shelves, choosing instead to direct shoppers to their online portals.

The few locally owned plus-size boutiques aren’t faring much better. Recently, Marcy Guevara-Prete, owner of Atwater Village’s Perfect 10+, announced her intention to close her store on April 27. All clothes and accessories will be 60% off, and she is selling some of the store’s fixtures and mannequins.

After shuttering her decade-old, hot-pink, plus-size resale shop, the Plus Bus, in Highland Park last fall, she thought paring down her store’s stock and slightly expanding its sizing could save her business. Her rent in Highland Park was up to $6,000 a month, she says, and the move to a smaller space in Atwater Village cut her expenses in half.

But almost six months into running her new space as Perfect 10+, Guevara-Prete says it’s become increasingly clear: She was fighting a losing battle. “It feels really obvious that the store has to close, but it’s so heartbreaking,” she says.

Operating the Plus Bus and Perfect 10+ was more of a labor of love for her than a money-grab, she says, noting that she never once turned a profit on either store. A reality TV producer turned boutique owner, Guevara-Prete says she kept the stores running because she felt the plus-size community needed them.

Marcy Guevara-Prete had high hopes for her store Perfect 10+ in Atwater Village. She previously operated the Plus Bus store in Highland Park. It closed last fall.

Not only were her stores well-curated retail oases — they featured mostly used clothes, but also a few new pieces — for those who couldn’t find a plethora of styles that could fit them at, say, Westfield Century City, but they were also stores that fostered community through sponsoring events such as plus-friendly pool parties and drag shows. And they were known for donating outfits and styling to members of L.A.’s transgender community.

The stores became a first stop for Hollywood stylists pulling looks for celebrities like Nicole Byer and Megan Stalter and an essential destination for out-of-town plus-size travelers who often came from communities where a store like the Plus Bus didn’t exist. (Byer and Lizzo also frequently sold or donated their used clothes to the store to sell.)

The Plus Bus also got national attention, getting acknowledged in an episode of “Hacks” as well as featured in an episode of Avery Trufelman’s “Articles of Interest” podcast about clothing.

So what happened?

Starting in 2023, Guevara-Prete says, the store’s sales began to dip. “They took this nosedive, and it seemed inexplicable,” she says. “Some people related it to the election or to uncertainty coming out of COVID, when people had that extra $600 a week to spend on things like clothes, but either way, the last three years have just been a total slog.”

Guevara-Prete says the downturn caused her to lay off most of her eight employees, and ultimately, she found herself taking out a few ill-advised business loans with less-than-favorable interest rates. All of this was happening while she was also struggling to land full-time freelance work in the entertainment industry, which is experiencing its own struggles.

“I was essentially making irresponsible decisions in order to keep [the stores] going, whether for spite, for ego, for the community or for the dream,” she says. “I really just had to face the music and make a choice that was really, really hard, especially when every single day people tell me how much the Plus Bus has changed them and how wonderful and affirming it’s been. Like, I don’t think anyone is going to talk about any episode of ‘Top Chef’ I produced at my funeral, but they absolutely will talk about the Plus Bus.”

In some sense, they already are. Guevara-Prete says there’s been a big outpouring of love from fans and shoppers who have supported the stores over the years.

At Perfect 10+ on a recent weekday afternoon, people poured in one after one, both to shop the deeply discounted racks and to pay their respects to Guevara-Prete, whom everyone met with hugs and lamentations about their collective loss.

Everyone visiting left with something: a pair of leopard print boots, a dress for a brother’s upcoming wedding or a red tango-friendly gown. Guevara-Prete says the oversize outpouring of support has been present online as well. But she wishes some of those fans had been shopping at her stores on a monthly or quarterly basis in recent years rather than now bemoaning what’s been lost.

A large selection of formal, casual and professional outfits hang on displays and racks at the Perfect 10+ in Atwater Village. The store will close Sunday.

“There’s a lot of chatter online about who isn’t selling plus sizes and who doesn’t carry your size, but there isn’t nearly enough promotion of the places that do,” she says.

Although the occasional plus-size pop-up like Thick Thrift still happens in L.A. and a few local plus-size resale shops remain, including Qurves in Burbank, MuMu Mansion in Mid-City and Hannah’s Hefty Hideaway on the city’s Westside, Guevara-Prete says she’s increasingly worried about where her store’s plus-size customers will be able to shop going forward.

“Where are people going to go in a pinch when there’s no brick-and-mortar that’s consistently open?” she asks. “Stores [like the Plus Bus and Perfect 10+] not existing is scary to me, because I need them. It just makes me feel like the plus-size community is being devalued even further as a population.”

Customer Dina Ramona Silva happened upon the Plus Bus’ initial Glassell Park location after moving to L.A. in 2015. For her, Guevara-Prete’s stores weren’t just retail outlets, they were also a sort of intellectual salon or spiritual sanctuary.

“I’ve been a big girl my whole life, like I came out of the womb 10 pounds, eight ounces. There has never been a point when I’ve been skinny,” Silva says. Finding a place like the Plus Bus, where “even the people who worked there were big, bodacious [and] fashionable” felt nourishing, like just stopping in to chat with people in the store could give her a boost of confidence that she might not find anywhere else.

On a recent day, shop owner Marcy Guevara-Prete sets a sign outside her store that reads, “Entire Store 40% off, Size 10+.”

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“It changed my entire conception of who I was in the community,” Silva says. “A lot of times in female friend groups, there’s one single fat girl amidst all the other slender women and allies. Having a place like the Plus Bus helped me because then, it was me and a whole bunch of other plus-size baddies. It was like, ‘Oh my god, this is so cool. We could all share clothes and they’d fit!’”

Guevara-Prete’s stores have also been important spaces for L.A.’s trans, queer and gender-fluid communities. Eureka O’Hara, a drag performer who’s appeared on “RuPaul’s Drag Race” and HBO’s “We’re Here,” says she found the Plus Bus about six years ago when she started to explore her gender identity, ultimately transitioning from presenting as nonbinary to being transfemme.

“The Plus Bus was so important to the queer and gender-fluid community because it gave us a place to feel comfortable trying clothes on,” O’Hara says. “Oftentimes I would show up, and they would have clothes already pulled for me. Also, I’m coming up on a year sober, but when I last relapsed, I came back to L.A. after having a relapse in Vegas. I ended up putting all my stuff in storage and went straight into a rehabilitation clinic and then sober living, so I didn’t have any of my belongings. Marcy made sure I had clothes to wear so that I could still present myself publicly on social media as a trans woman talking about my process of recovery, and she did it at no cost.”

O’Hara says she knows other trans women whose wardrobes are almost entirely from the Plus Bus, saying that if they couldn’t afford the clothes they wanted, the store would often give them “extreme discounts, if not free clothing.”

Shop owner Marcy Guevara-Prete, left, thanks customer Katie Pyne for coming in for one last visit.

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Guevara-Prete says that while her stores’ closing has been “more bitter than sweet,” she’s still proud of the work she’s done with the Plus Bus and Perfect 10+.

“I never in a million years thought I would own a boutique or have the kind of healing that’s come from the Plus Bus community,” she says. “What I’ve experienced and learned about body positivity, body neutrality, fat liberation, fat acceptance and how that’s been translated from my clothes to my actual soul … There’s nothing like it. And I’d like to think that I’ve also healed people through this project and that people have made friendships and memories they’ll have for lifetimes at my events.”

In my L.A. Buy Nothing group, I started noticing how some objects, given for free from neighbor to neighbor, carry emotional weight. An item was more than it appeared. It was a piece of personal history, perhaps one with generational memories.

From one person’s hands to another’s, objects find new life through the free gift economy on Facebook or the Buy Nothing app. Buy Nothing Project, a public benefit corporation, reports having 14 million members across more than 50 countries who give away 2.6 million items a month. There are more than 100 groups in Los Angeles alone.

Buy Nothing reduces waste by keeping items out of landfills. It also builds community. When our lives are increasingly online, Buy Nothing encourages us to get out of our cars and make connections with neighbors, even if the interaction is no more than a wave when picking something up left by a doorstep. Researchers have found that even small social interactions can foster a sense of belonging.

Still, Buy Nothing has its challenges. For years, some have complained that the groups shouldn’t be limited to neighborhoods, but rather have more open borders. Last year, many longtime members complained about the project enforcing its trademark, leading Facebook to shut down unregistered groups even if they were serving people under economic strain. Critics saw the tattling as a shift from mutual aid toward control and branding. For its part, Buy Nothing says its decisions are based on building community, trust and safety.

Despite those disagreements, Buy Nothing offers a platform for special connections. As much as there are jokes about people offering half-eaten cake, many have passed along treasured items. Buy Nothing items may feel too valuable for the trash or too personal for Goodwill. The interaction between giver and receiver becomes just as meaningful as the object itself.

I set out to document these quiet exchanges in my Buy Nothing group, drawn to the question of why people choose to pass their belongings from one neighbor to another.

Tiny builders, big exchange

Lidia Butcher gives a toolbox and worktable her two sons used to Chelsea Ward for her 17-month-old son.

“We’ve had the toolbox and worktable for the last 10 years, it’s been very special. When I told my youngest son we were going to give it away, he was a little sad. He said he was still playing with it, but then I explained that it’s been sitting untouched for a year and that if we gave it to someone else, maybe someone else would be happy about it. So he felt joy about giving it to another child who would want to play with it. I have this little emotional feeling letting it go, but at the same time, it’s a good feeling. Like a new beginning.”

— Lidia Butcher, 35, joined the group several years ago when someone told her a person in the group once asked for a cup of sugar.

“We’re getting a worktable. Benji is now old enough to be interested in playing with tools. I’m going to move my drafting table out of his room. His bedroom is my office. So that will go into storage or the Buy Nothing group and the worktable will go in its place. We live in an apartment, and as he’s growing, his needs change but our space doesn’t. Buy Nothing is really helpful to be able to cycle out of stuff.”

— Chelsea Ward, 38, has found the Buy Nothing group extremely helpful since becoming a mom.

Something borrowed

Abby Rodriguez lends Sophie Janinet a veil for her wedding.

“Sophie had asked for a wedding veil on our Buy Nothing group and I’m lending it to her because I wanted it to have a second life. I hate the idea that precious things just sit there and never get touched. My wedding day was one of the best days of my life. At one point the power went out and now we have this amazing picture with my husband and I and everyone using their phone to light up the dance floor.”

— Abby Rodriguez, 40, discovered Buy Nothing when she moved to her northeast L.A. neighborhood in 2020.

“I moved to Los Angeles from France four years ago. The day I joined Buy Nothing was the first time I felt connected to the community. It played a huge role in my adapting to life here. I’m receiving a veil because I want my wedding to look and feel like my values. I thrifted my dress, I chose a local seamstress to alter the dress but when I tried it on, I felt something was missing. I wanted a veil but I didn’t want to buy new because I didn’t want to add anything to the landfill. So I posted a request for the veil on Buy Nothing.”

— Sophie Janinet, 37, is recreating the low-waste, slower-paced values she once lived by in France through her local Buy Nothing community.

A pigeon-spooking owl gets a second life

Michele Sawers gives Beth Penn a decorative owl.

“Coming from a place of luck, now I have plenty to give. The owl has been with me for 26 years. I bought the owl soon after I bought this house. The owl was purchased because I had a pigeon problem, they would camp out under my eves and I would have bird poop everywhere. The owl must have worked because they’re gone and they haven’t come back.”

— Michele Sawers, 58, uses Buy Nothing regularly to connect with her community and support her low-consumption values.

“There are things I don’t want to own. So borrowing those things on Buy Nothing is really nice. There is a person who I borrowed their cooler twice and their ladder twice so I feel like they are my neighbor even though they are not [right next door]. We get these birds that poop on the deck and the recommendation online was to get a fake owl. When it was posted on Buy Nothing, I thought, ‘I have to have that owl!’ It’s going to have a good home with me on the deck with some cats, a dog and some kids.”

— Beth Penn, 47, once helped build her local Buy Nothing group and now experiences it from the other side, as a member.

Stuffed toys find a new purpose

Magaly Leyva, left, stands with Tatiana Lonny, right, with the stuffed toys and play balls she is gifting her.

(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)

Magaly Leyva gives stuffed toys and plastic play balls to Tatiana Lonny.

“My mother-in-law gave the dolls and plastic play balls to my daughter, but she has so much. My daughter is not going to play with them with the same intent that another kid would, because she’s really little. I’d rather another kid use these things.”

— Magaly Leyva, 35, joined Buy Nothing nearly four years ago to find clothes for her nephew.

“I’m taking these new items to a township called Langa in South Africa. I know the kids there will be so happy. They have so little there. I’m doing this all by myself, I’m just collecting a GoFundMe for the suitcase fee at the airport.”

— Tatiana Lonny, 51, began using Buy Nothing in hopes of finding resources to support the animals she rescues.

A second helping

Laura Cherkas gives Aurora Sanchez a cast iron pan.

“Buy Nothing gives me the freedom to let go of things because I know that they will stay in the community and the neighborhood. I’m giving a couple of cast iron items that my husband and I got when we were on a cast iron kick, probably during COVID. We determined that we don’t actually use these particular pans and they were just making our drawers heavy. So we decided to let someone else get some use out of them.

“I hate throwing things away. I want to see things have another life. Sometimes I take things to a donation center, but I like the personal connection with Buy Nothing and that you know that there is someone who definitely wants your item.”

— Laura Cherkas, 40, has built connections with other moms through Buy Nothing and values it as a way to cycle toys in and out for her child.

Laura Cherkas, left, holds the pan she is gifting Aurora Sanchez, right, through Buy Nothing.

(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)

“I wanted a cast iron pan because I cook a lot of grilled meat. I’m excited to try this style of cooking out and it will help me when I cook for only one or two people. I got lucky because I was chosen to receive it.”

— Aurora Sanchez, 54, has spent the past two years engaging with Buy Nothing, finding in it a sense of neighborly support that makes her feel valued while strengthening her connection to the community.

Next player up

Joe Zeni, 70, is using his local Buy Nothing group on Facebook to give away a basketball hoop he used with his son when he was little.

(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)

Joe Zeni first offered a basketball hoop on Buy Nothing in 2023, where it remains unclaimed.

“I’m giving away a Huffy basketball freestanding hoop because it’s just taking up space. We used to play horse and shoot baskets together. My son is now 35, he doesn’t live here anymore.”

— Joe Zeni, 70, uses Buy Nothing often to give items away, believing many of the things he no longer needs still have purpose.