Antonella Baccaro (photo by Carlo Furgeri Gilbert).
THEThe change of winter season for me is a drama that begins with the first cold weather and ends (hopefully) around Christmas. The process of reviewing clothing for every woman is a bit like a psychotherapy session.
Try to think about it: if we decide to keep the clothes clearly in a size that we will never find againwe are challenging ourselves. The space occupied by those clothes in a wardrobe that will never seem large enough to us is equivalent to what we reserve in our conscience for the idea of improving ourselves.
In the latest closet cleanout (still in progress), I introduced a variant: I tried to put it up for sale on an online platform of “second hand“, an item of designer clothing from my 30s.
I didn’t think that this simple gesture would trigger so many dilemmas for me. The procedure provided by the site required that I first create a profileas is done on social media. I confess that, despite being familiar with words, it took me quite a while to come up with a non-trivial phrase that represented me.
Recycling used items is good for you
In the end, I opted for a presentation instrumental to the objective of the salethat is, something that would let the buyer know that I am reliable. I did it thinking that boasting about having taste or a personal style would be unrealistic: what you display in your virtual showcase already speaks for itself. What you can’t see is the care with which you treat things, a feature that a potential buyer will certainly appreciate.
It is increasingly popular to sell and buy on second hand platforms (photo Getty Images).
The choices don’t end there. Should you post a photo of yourself or not? What if someone recognized me? The doubts that have surfaced are those of a generation for which selling one’s clothes has always been equivalent to expressing a state of necessity. The new generations have given us a lead in this.
The moment I packaged the item to send it, my heart ached as I thought back to a particular beautiful moment to which it was connected.. So, so as not to lose the memory of it, I hid a note in a pocket on which I wrote: “Worn when…” and then the memory. Whoever finds it, sharing a little secret of mine, knows that I was happy in there.
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