Selling all your stuff on eBay is better for your bank account BEING a shopaholic is so last year, says Ruby Millington. Selling all your stuff on eBay is even more addictive – and rather better for your bank account. It was the drum kit that did it. My husband and I were car-booting, after we’d moved to a smaller home and realised we needed to offload a mountain of possessions. We did, too – but the reason we had so much stuff is that… well, I like to shop. And boot sales are lethal for anyone of an acquisitive disposition. That’s how, one Sunday when we’d just sold two giant dog crates to someone who actually has a dog, we found ourselves reloading the car with a rhythm section. And that’s when I decided to join the 21st century and flog my tat – sorry, sell my unwanted belongings – on eBay. The first thing to go was a Poole Pottery vase that someone had given me years ago. I’d never liked it but I knew someone would, so I took some photos and worked out how to list it.
A week later I was £20 better off. I became completely hooked. If impulse buying had got me into this mess, impulse selling was getting me out Spurred on by success, I decided to purge my wardrobe. First to go was the executive collection. Since I find it a full-time job staying on top of the washing-up, I’m clearly not cut out for a career in suits and heels. So it was bye-bye to all the jackets, skirts, blouses and handbags I’d bought in anticipation of the call that never came from Goldman Sachs. Next I parted with anything vaguely eveningy (obsolete for someone who becomes narcoleptic on the dot of 9.30pm), as well as everything that didn’t fit, suit or excite me. For the first time in my life I actually had that elusive capsule wardrobe. With practice, taking suitable photos became easier (daylight is best and clothes always look better on a mannequin). And I mastered the art of writing an appealing but accurate description (important, otherwise you’ll spend hours answering questions or have your reputation blackened by negative feedback).
Some enquiries are inevitable – “How much is it going to cost to send that jumper/camera/mixing desk to Barcelona/Tokyo/Cape Town?” for example – but others are frankly unanswerable. “What would I wear this with?” one woman wrote after taking a shine to a Marc Jacobs leather skirt. “Is this new?” another woman emailed me about a vintage belt I’d listed. Er, no – it’s vintage. As the weeks went by, I grew au fait with eBay shorthand – BNIB (brand-new in box), NWOT (new without tags) and the mysterious OSFA (one size fits all). My mother, ever supportive, commented that anyone buying my stuff would need a GSOH. But, amazingly, things sold. Some for little more than the starting figure, others for unexpectedly high prices. And soon I became completely hooked. You can see how many people are watching each item and use that to predict how much it’s going to sell for (curiously thrilling). And the last minutes of an auction, when bids come thick and fast and the price rockets up, are truly compelling.
If impulse buying had got me into this mess, impulse selling was getting me out. When I wasn’t tapping away at my computer I was roaming the house in search of new stuff to trade, even if it meant negotiating elaborate deals with my husband (he’d forgo his dartboard if I gave up another two handbags). Not unnaturally, he began to wonder where this would end. I told him I was determined to dispense with everything I didn’t use any more. “Like the kitchen?” he enquired, drily. I did just that, too. I’d always hated the central island we inherited with the house, thinking a regular table and chairs would be much more hospitable. My husband, being of the make-do-and-mend persuasion, decreed that the top of the island should replace the very scruffy top of a table we already had. So we were left with a topless island. Great idea for an ITV2 show but not so promising as an eBay item – or so you’d think. We decided to save ourselves a trip to the tip by listing it at 99p and hoping for the best.
An hour later there were 10 people watching it, two of whom offered us “Buy It Now” prices, including one of £100 that we happily accepted. But eBay doesn’t just help your finances – it’s good for your social life too. I’ve found myself exchanging volleys of emails with a lady in Montreal who shares my passion for Jamin Puech handbags; I’ve cracked open a bottle of wine with someone who’d come round to collect a pair of bentwood chairs; and I’ve also found myself on first-name terms with every postmistress within a five-mile radius (you soon work out which post offices are busy on which days). To their credit, they’ve never batted an eyelash at the volume, size or shape of my parcels. Mind you, it sometimes feels as though I’m single-handedly keeping Royal Mail afloat. I’ve also developed a whole repertoire of new skills. I can tell you, almost to the penny, how much a pair of Kurt Geigers will cost to post, without even picking them up. I can fold clothes like a Benetton veteran and wrap any item known to man (although I did struggle a little with my husband’s water-skis).
One of my top tips is to do all your packing on an ironing board as it’s a handy (and hopefully dog-hair-free) flat surface. It’s great to have finally found a use for mine. I know I’m not going to make a fortune, or even hit the ceiling where profits officially become earnings, but I feel that I’m doing something really worthwhile. I’m not just keeping stuff out of landfill sites but uniting it with people who’ll treasure it. And the income may only be pin money but at least I haven’t had to sell my soul along with my too-small wet suit and my Miu Miu shades. Don't give up on chairs with torn seats or tables with missing legs -- we have plenty of ideas for giving new life to worn furniture in unexpected ways.A table that has lost a leg can find new purpose as a console in an entryway or hallway. Just add wheels to a sturdy basket, and you'll have a mobile end table that keeps clutter contained. An old wooden stepladder provides a steady spot for a row of books as well as an alarm clock and reading lamp.
Sturdy benches that merely take up space in the garage can be stacked and repurposed as a brand-new bookshelf for the family room or den. A wooden pot-lid rack is ideal for holding mail; all it needs is a fresh coat of paint. For easier viewing, place smaller items, such as letters, bills, and postcards, near the front, and larger catalogs and magazines toward the back. Learn how to transform the interior rails of three beleaguered bistro chairs into the legs of a new side table. Office in a Chest Transform a traditional piece of bedroom furniture into a multitasking mini office, complete with bulletin board and filing cabinet. Balanced on a few overturned flowerpots, an old wooden door becomes a rustic and sturdy outdoor coffee table or work surface. A solid old door, refinished and hung sideways, becomes a perfect -- and perfectly inexpensive -- headboard for a bed. Create custom cabinetry in your garden shed with vintage wine crates from flea markets or online auctions.
These two flea market cupboards looked nothing alike, yet it wasn't hard to turn them into a single piece that functions like an armoire. These squat geometric cubes were originally designed as stools. But if the caned seat is shot, replace it with a round piece of medium-density fiberboard (MDF) and turn the cube into a low-slung end table. Wooden shutters can be just as functional and good-looking indoors as out. This refinished trio hangs on the wall over a hallway console as a bulletin board. Their louvers are a perfect (not to mention plentiful) spot to tuck invitations, display artwork, or hang a message pad. Old coat hooks can be mounted on a wooden plaque and put to work corralling the daily mail.Paint or stain a precut plaque, available at crafts stores. Paint hooks to desired color. Secure the hooks side-by-side with 1/2-inch wood screws. Repeat to form additional rows to separate your mail. Just because an antique platter or plate is scratched, cracked, or broken, its useful life doesn't have to end.