So, you see these pictures from Fashion Week, right? And there’s always someone like Idris Elba looking like a million bucks without even trying. Seriously, how do they do it? Makes you look at your own wardrobe and kinda sigh. It got me thinking, or maybe scheming, a little bit.
I wasn’t about to suddenly become a fashion guru, let’s be clear. My style is usually “whatever’s clean.” But looking at all that sleekness, I figured, hey, maybe I can try to, you know, upgrade a little. My big “practice” for a week or so was to attempt to inject some of that effortless cool into my life. Spoiler: it wasn’t effortless, and I’m not sure about the cool part either.
First, the big closet clean-out. Man, that was an adventure. I pulled everything out. Shirts I swear I hadn’t seen since college, pants that must have shrunk (couldn’t be me, right?), and a collection of free t-shirts from events that I’d somehow kept like they were precious relics. It was a proper mess, like a jumble sale had a party in my bedroom and forgot to clean up.
- Found about five “favorite” grey t-shirts, all slightly different shades of faded.
- Unearthed a jacket I bought once thinking it made me look “edgy.” Turns out, it just made me look lost.
- Realized I had enough odd socks to supply a small army of one-legged people.
Okay, so after sorting the junk from the… well, slightly less junky, I tried to put some outfits together. You see these guys in magazines, simple shirt, nice pants, boom, stylish. I tried. I really did. Ended up looking like I was trying too hard, or like I’d borrowed clothes from someone much cooler than me. It’s an art form, I guess, and I was clearly still at the stick-figure drawing stage.
Then came the brilliant idea. “I’ll sell my old clothes online!” I thought. Make some cash, buy some new, actually decent stuff. Genius, right? Oh, you sweet summer child, I told myself later. This was where the real “practice” began, and let me tell you, it was an education.
So, I took photos. Tried to make my old band t-shirt look vintage and cool, not just old and stretched. Listed a few things. And then the messages started.
- “Will you take $2 for that $20 jacket? It’s for my cousin’s dog.”
- “Can you deliver it to [obscure place two hours away] for free?”
- Endless questions about measurements, even when they were clearly in the description.
- People saying “I’ll take it!” and then just vanishing. Ghosts. So many ghosts.
Dealing with buyers, or potential buyers, was a whole other level of weird. I spent more time answering messages and dealing with no-shows than I did actually, you know, making money. One person haggled me down on a pair of old sneakers, then complained the laces weren’t “crisp” enough when they saw them. Crisp laces! For five-year-old sneakers I was selling for peanuts!
At the end of my grand fashion experiment and online selling adventure, what did I have to show for it? Not much cash, that’s for sure. A slightly emptier closet, which is something, I guess. And a newfound appreciation for people who work in retail. Seriously, you guys are heroes.
So, no, I don’t look like Idris Elba. Not even close. My attempt to get stylish mostly just taught me that selling old stuff online is a pain in the backside. Maybe “effortless style” just means you pay someone else to deal with the effort. As for me, I think I’ll stick to my comfortable, slightly faded grey t-shirts. At least they don’t ask for crisp laces.
