THIS WEEK:
THING: Vinted
Vinted seems
like a good idea doesn’t it? It’s… sustainable, I suppose? And who cares that
all the clothes look like they’ve been run over by a combine harvester? At
least they’re going to a good home, rather than ending up wrapped around the
neck of an Ecuadorian sea cucumber! So, you sign up with grand plans for selling your old tat to
fellow online tat sellers, thinking you are literally saving the planet. In reality, though, Vinted is mayhem. Imagine the inevitable
consequence of letting the fast fashion industry go unchecked for 20 years.
Thousands and thousands of suicidal Dorothy Perkins tops hang from murky
mirrored wardrobe doors. Everything is either £3 or £2500 and sold by a
teenage girl in Hull called AnimeAngell3824 who never replies to your
messages. Add Evri to the mix, who happily deliver packages by launching them
over your roof via flaming catapult, and the whole thing will make you wish
you were dead.
Also, I don’t think I’m very good at Vinted. I have no idea
what I’m doing. I don’t know the rules. Are there any? The only reason I joined was to sell some old Doc Martens, but
despite receiving more messages from 17 year old girls than Timothée
Chalamet, they’re still unsold. Other than that, I can offer you two opened
yet unused Canon Pixma ink cartridges photographed on a dirty carpet.
Interested? The main problem is, I have no idea how to price anything.
What are things worth? If my Vinted shop was a real shop it would be a hole
in the ground selling a lemon for £30 and a Louis XIV chest of drawers for
£4.99 and there’d be a queue of disgruntled customers outside, shaking their
fists. And don’t get me started about printing the Evri labels. I
can’t print them because I bought the wrong ink cartridges, didn’t I? That’s
why I’m selling them! And the only alternative is the cursed Evri printer at
the newsagents, which is impossible to use. The poor guy in there had to take
me through the process like he was gently escorting someone back to the care
home. QR codes? What are those, sonny? Anyway, if my dismal Vinted performance continues, I’ll
probably have a one star rating and all my hair will have fallen out with the
stress. So far, I’ve only made ten measly quid, which instantly went back
into the Vinted coffers on a jumper that’s the exactly the same as all the
other jumpers I own. Also, it REALLY doesn’t help that my teenage son is on there
too, relentlessly trolling me with messages like this:
VERDICT: Yes,
probably THING: Cillit Bang Black Mould Remover
I’m sure my potential Vinted customers will be happy
to know that my manky old shoes come from a Mould Friendly Home. But it’s
okay, because now I have this! Cillit Bang. That’s a blast from the past
isn’t it? A toxic, hideous blast of terrifying, eyeball-melting chlorinated
bleach from the past. Unless Cillit Bang has been banging away all this time and I
hadn’t noticed? To be fair, I wasn’t interested in it when it first came out
in the mid 2000s because I was too busy wearing a white belt and perfecting my
MySpace fringe to clean things. Now even Barry Scott is dead, or he would be
if he was even real in the first place. (If you didn’t know that, I’ll just
let you sit with the fact that Barry Scott wasn’t real. RIP Barry. Bang, and
you were gone, because you were a made up shouty man who got on everyone’s
nerves.) Anyway, Barry isn’t here to warn you, so I’m going to step in
- please watch what you’re doing with this. It’s not quite as powerful as
this unnerving crime scene cleaner:
However, it WILL maim you, so be careful. I sprayed
it everywhere, waited 8-12 minutes and BANG! My nostril hairs were gone.
BANG! My eyeballs plopped clean out of my head. BANG! My fingerprints are no
more. BANG! The air was filled with the overpowering stench of a municipal
swimming pool after a Code Brown. I’m not sure whether I want this stuff in the house actually -
it’s evil. Do you think I could sell it on Vinted? Oh wait a minute. Someone has already beaten me to it.
VERDICT: Money
for old soap Thanks for reading
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©
2025 Lucy Sweet
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