The skeletons in my closet don’t worry me. I think of them as fodder for a future memoir and fills for those awkward silent therapy sessions where I show up out of habit but have literally nothing to say. I was, past tense, far more anxious about this one beautiful bag in the top right corner of my closet shelf. I never used it and the guilt was driving me mad.
Our partnership with StockX — the world’s first stock market for buying and selling bags — came through at just the right moment: I had decided to sell the bag but was whining about the whole “having to do things” part of it. StockX made it easy.
I bought the bag forever ago when I graduated from college and thought I might pass out if I went a minute longer without it between my hands. It was the bag that, I was sure, would be the key to locking down my first job. It was the bag I was positive I’d wear while bumping into different kinds of destiny on the street. I had all these big dreams for this bag and how it would change my world, not to mention my wardrobe.
The moment I realized life was going to do what it wanted with or without the bag, the magic of this intended good luck charm that also housed my keys began to wear off. At the same time, my taste in bags was changing. I went from wanting massive, stuff-your-whole-day-into-them purses to craving a smaller, streamlined kind of simplicity.
And then came the guilt.
This bag that I bought with a combination of graduation money and unwise financial planning, the one I told myself would be my forever investment, began to haunt me. Each time I opened the door to my closet for a jacket or a snack, it scolded me for letting it fester in the dark. When I came home from work, laptop in an ink-stained promotional canvas shoulder tote, my bag reminded me that I could have used its elegant leather bucket instead. It was like living with an ex post-breakup because you had two months left on the lease. The guilt began to paralyze me. It still paralyzes me. I took a nap for 48 hours this weekend out of straight fear.
Then I woke up, quit my belly-achin’ and realized I could sell it, which brings me back to StockX.
I am lazy, but as I said, StockX makes this easy. Let’s break the how part down in case you, like me, tend to shy away from selling online because of all the work that comes with it:
Make an account. All it takes is a few fast clicks. (You’ll start to feel better already.)
List your bag. You don’t have to take pictures or write descriptions. StockX does all of this for you. (Allow for a single tear of gratitude to pool in your eye.)
Sit back and relax. You don’t have to do any customer service stuff, either. StockX handles that. (Cue happy tear: enjoy it rolling down your cheek.)
Ship the bag to StockX when it sells. And then you’re done. StockX will authenticate the bag once they receive it, ship it to the buyer and pay you. (Are you dancing yet?)
Another nice thing is that you can do the whole thing (sell, buy and track) from your phone using their app. Makes it even easier
I talked to my bag about all of this, of course. We had an adult conversation where I explained this was for the best. We agreed that we’ve had a lot of great memories together, and that there was nothing wrong with freeing ourselves of one another to further explore our own potential. It has significantly lessened the awkwardness of running into it in my home, and the guilt disappeared the moment I set up my account. My load is so light, in fact, that I’m suddenly in the market for a new bag.
Photographed by Edith Young; Modeled by Monica Tamos of Wilhemina; Makeup by Regard Tang.