Encore It

One Piece Leaves A Room. It Arrives In Another.

Imagine the whole of it taking a Saturday and a cup of tea.

There are two people in this, and it is worth seeing both. The one letting something go, and the one who has been looking for exactly it.

If You Are Letting It Go

Six Seconds Of Work, And A Minute Of Remembering.

You do not measure anything, photograph anything twice, or sit down to write a description you would rather not write.

  1. Hold your phone up at it. Where it stands, as it is, with the coats still on it. The camera works out what it is and how it has worn, and fills the form in.
  2. Answer three questions. Where it used to stand, who used it, what made you stop. The atelier takes your handful of words and gives the piece its life back.
  3. Say what you would like for it. You set the number. A suggestion sits beside the box, and it is only ever a suggestion.
  4. Then leave it alone. No messages to answer, nobody to talk down, nobody arranging to come and then not coming.
  5. Somebody buys it, and pays in full. Only then do they have your address, and only then do you arrange the handing over.
  6. The money lands. Everything but 10 per cent of it, on the day it sells, and nothing before that day.

If You Are The One Looking

Everything Here Arrives Already Loved.

Every other second-hand listing tells you the measurements and hides the rest. Here you are told where a thing has been, who used it, and what actually wore out — by the person who owned it, before you ask.

What a listing reads like

Walnut, 1974, and it was my father’s. He read in it every night in a front room in Fitzroy for eight years, by the window, and the nap on both arms has gone soft where his hands went.

Fitzroy · 4.2 km away · two acts so far

  1. You see the whole of it. Its life, its wear, and the honest account of what is worn — written by the person letting it go rather than by somebody selling it.
  2. You pay for it here. On this page, in one tap, without being sent off to a stranger’s checkout and handed back.
  3. Then you two sort out the day. The money is already settled, so the conversation is only ever about when you are coming.
  4. And you add its next act. What happens to it with you goes on underneath, and travels with the piece to whoever has it after you.
A repainted chair against a pink wall
A road bicycle against a wall of ivy

Nothing Good Is Finished. It Is Between Rooms.

Start with the piece you walk around. The dull half is done before you look down.

Point Your Camera At It See How Selling Works