On Selling One’s Soul
by Colette Shaw
Art by Olivia Boomhower
“On Selling One’s Soul” is the runner up of our “Back to Normal” Creative Nonfiction Contest. Judge Annie Palmer shares why she chose Shaw’s essay as the runner up:
This is a fantastic, small glimpse into how COVID impacted the economy, apps, and the way that we communicate with one another.
I had never heard of Depop, and Colette Shaw instantly sucked me into this little corner of the internet that once was. By the time I got to the point of “this is not that story”, I was already connected to this online world and culture the narrator had been a part of, that I was sad to “see it go”, as it were.
I think this piece could certainly be expanded in the future if the author wanted to, to really dive into how a global crisis can impact social movements, and the ways in which we connect, purchase, and help one another.
Overall, Shaw’s descriptive language and narrative voice is incredibly strong and unique. It was easy to read, follow, and picture what she was talking about. Her tone and grasp of prose and imagery is impressive.
During the pandemic, like many people all over the world, I picked up a hobby. Rather than knitting, or bread-making, I delved into an unknown world. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination, no, not the Twilight Zone, Depop. Launched in 2011, but popularized during the pandemic, Depop is an online resale platform unlike anything else on the market.
Laid out exactly like Instagram, with a home page to scroll through and a profile with a grid of your photographs, Depop walks a careful line between social media platform and garage sale. Gone are the days of Craigslist and Ebay, with their grainy photographs, and sterile search pages. To sell used items successfully on Depop is to sell yourself.
Sellers frequently have a “getting to know me” post with photographs of themselves eating ice cream or holding their cats. Mixed in with well-lit shots of sweaters and air-force ones for sale are political diatribes, poetry, and even explanations for why these people are emptying their closets. I’ll never forget the bio that read “saving money for my dad’s casket.”
I started by posting a Kendra Scott necklace I had found under the dryer at my university. Home for the pandemic, working full time, I was still bored to tears. This seemed like a decent distraction. It netted me $20. Then there were my roller skates, $180. One of my tarantula’s molts, $25. A paper lamp, $6. It was too easy.
I sold surprise packages of art, my childhood stuffed animals, I even sold my wisdom teeth (though I should have waited for a better deal). Not only was I making decent money, but I was making friends. I had a pen pal from North Carolina who I met because I bought a palette of paints. It was an app full of thrifty, fashionable, and weird young women.
I connected with an italian girl who wanted a postcard from the show Hamilton. We had an hours long conversation in Depop’s messenger tab about why a person from Italy would be interested in an American rap-musical about the founding fathers. I used my store to send clothing to two transgender kids who didn’t want the receipt on their pay pal accounts to say anything incriminating. So, I posted clothes with descriptions that read “jpg. Art file.” I sold the gifts my ex bought me. I sold a few things at a loss because I wanted them to go to a good home. These were my people, and this had become my community.
According to Depop, over 90 percent of its active users (who total more than 15 million people) are under 26. Many articles have been written about a few success stories, high-schoolers who have created a thrifting empire, netting fifty thousand dollars a year reselling limited edition tennis shoes purchased at the Salvation Army.
This is not that story. This is the story of the rise and fall of one of the most dynamic and weird places on the internet.
By this time last year I had netted around $3000. My childhood bedroom sat empty of the things that had for so long marked it as mine. With no intention of moving home after the pandemic, the emptiness was exciting, a sign of my ability to grow up and move on. What’s missing. I traded items in my store for all of my family’s Christmas presents. It was a blessing in a lean year, and a bullion that paid the social debt of my life being on hold.
That following spring, I transferred the community college classes I had been taking back to my university. I took what was left of my store to Goodwill. I drove my car across the country, too afraid to fly. Back in my apartment, I tried to keep the Depop momentum going, but something was different. Perhaps I wasn’t spending eight hours a day on the app, so I didn’t have the exposure I did before, or maybe people were just returning to their everyday lives. But my sales slowed from several a week, to one every other month. I didn’t think much of it, my life had returned anyway.
Then the unthinkable happened. Depop, which had up until that point, been owned by itself, was purchased by Etsy. Etsy, the well-established online retailer, specializing in home-made gifts. Etsy, so cheerful and polished was no Depop.
No more selling of live plants, tech that wasn’t cameras, basically anything that wasn’t an item of clothing was discouraged (may I remind you of my teeth?). Bots began to remove listings with weird descriptions. No more clothes for trans kids. The news said things about Depop being “scale-able” there was projected growth they said. They started charging taxes based on the state you were buying from. This was an opportunity to create a bigger and more polished market. But it was already spit polished, perfect the way it was.
I still have my Depop account, it doesn’t create a lot of revenue, but it’s a nice scroll down memory lane through all the pieces of my life I sold to strangers. I don’t anticipate that what we had will ever come back. But I do hope that someone will launch something new, and I hope that it’s as gritty and unregulated as the American west.
Olivia Boomhower, Taking Up Space, oil pastel, colored pencil, and mylar.
