No dinner at Nobu for me … no dashing off to Bond Street to stock up on ‘essentials’ … no eyebrow threading or lady garden maintenance … oh no, Boot Fair’s are where it’s at. Fact.
So, during the week, I had been gathering all sorts of crap clothes to sell off to the general public. Sequinned tops I’ve never (thankfully) worn; brand new party dresses; old work clothes I can’t fit into anymore; too short ‘careful love, you’re showing your coochy’ shorts … and a whole bunch of random clothes in between.
I met my best friend there at 7am. Toast? Check … Vat of coffee? Check. Disguise? Check, check, check! I’m kidding … I’m not a snob really. Although one really does draw the line at those terrible jeggings the other stallholders were wearing … 🙂
We spent the next hour setting out our stall. It took longer than it should because every time I took a piece of clothing out of the (8!) bin liners, I’d have the following conversation. With myself:
Me: Could you wear that to the office?
Me: Yes, but it makes my arse look massive.
Me: Your arse IS massive.
Me: Fair point. Move on.
Me: Would you really ever wear a multi-coloured flared mini skirt?
Me: I have done for the last three summers.
Me: You’re forty years old. Stop it. Now.
Me: Oooh, shiny sequins!!!
Me: Step … away … from … the … blouse.
You get the point. It took a long time. I finally decided on what items I’d sell and the doors opened. Suffice to say, there wasn’t a mad influx of people all eager to get their hands on my used goods … more of a steady trickle of half a dozen people. Naturally, the first two items I sold were the brand new dresses I’d paid £45 for that I ended up selling for £2. That’s right, £2. A little part of me died right then … but once I’d cried into my bacon bap, I felt a little better. It’s not like I was going to wear them … but £2???? Seriously?! (I’m currently in counselling for this … hoping to make a quick recovery.)
After I nearly had a full blown argument with a woman who refused to pay £2 for a brand new hoodie (I don’t do haggling,) I had a blanket policy of £1 for everything. Pitch fee, baps and weak arsed tepid tea aside … I managed to make a profit of £25. That worked out at £5 per hour. I’ve been paid worse.
Would I do another one? Hell yeah! I was a born saleswoman … albeit selling used clothes … but I really enjoyed my first Boot Fair.
Yes, the packing, unpacking and packing again is a pain and perhaps I do take people trying to barter over my ‘amazing’ clothes a little too personally but we did have a good laugh … and I bought some beautiful jeggings.
A right bargain they were!