Friday, 4 February 2011

Power Up, Power Sellers

Vague New Year’s Resolutions included updating this blog more than once a month (oops), watching more films and reading more books. I know, I make life so difficult for myself, don’t I. Yet instead, a large proportion of my last fortnight or so has been spent playing flash games, for which I largely blame bacon enthusiast, Syn, who extolled the virtues of KOLM. I’ve since divided my time between fattening cats up with sushi, trying to find my way out of purgatory and shooting zombies. Then there’s all the games I’ve been playing too. It reminds me of discovering Snake on my first Nokia and the subsequent commitment to guiding it to apples until the wee hours.

Another hazy NYR was too update my ‘style’ (har), spurred on by having started a job out there in the real world with real people who would view me strangely if I turned up in my usual uniform consisting of dressing gown and slippers. My wardrobe is actually ready to topple due to all the garments I’ve been hoarding for years (sometimes decades). Most of which have been through the washing machine so many times they would be better suited to Barbie dolls (I refuse to believe it is I who has expanded). So I’ve been trolling yet again the fashion roulette wheel that is the realm of eBay and have picked up a few pointers I thought I’d share for those who’ve a mind to similarly make profit from old threads.

  • Is your item from a magical, mythical pre-2011 era? Then you have every right to sell it as ‘vintage’. I would normally associated the word with items worn by Mary Quant-esque trendsetters and delicate lacey items that reassuringly crumble when you remove them from their jiffy bag. But no, apparently ‘VINTAGE TOPSHOP 00s BODYCON DRESS’ makes the cut too.

  • Holes, rips, bobbles and any other flaws that would otherwise confine the item to a trashcan fate? List it as ‘PUNK DIY YOUUUUUNIQUE!’. Or vintage.


  • Know your target market? Ask a friend who embodies all of the defining characteristics and ask them to pose. That skanky dress you last wore clubbing in 1997 will look so much more pleasing on the local perma-tanned WAG. Vaguely nautical (i.e. stripy) top you dream of causing a bidding war for? Get your Bettie Page-fringed swallow tattoo-chested rockabilly girl pal to rock it on your behalf.

  • “All the marks are from my camera.” Excellent get-out clause (until they open the package, anyway.) That’s ruined the game of ‘Semen or Toothpaste’ the shopper was playing while contemplating that Next shirt for the office.

  • “Will fit a size 12/14/16 depending on how you like your fit.” i.e. I can’t be fucked to find my tape measure or indeed the label so buy it and find out for yourself (the mistake you’ve made). Don’t come crying to me when the dress you thought would make you look like Alexa Chung instead transforms you into Beth Ditto.

I would write some more but I’m nearing the end of a gripping bidding war for STEAMPUNK SHOES SIZE 3/4/5/6 and I’ve spotted a new flash game called “Watching Paint Dry on Growing Grass” which clearly deserves at least 4 hours of my undivided attention.

No comments:

Post a Comment