Thrill of the Hunt – Does It Still Exist?

It’s common resale parlance that divorces can lead to the best of deals. 

Based on the true story of someone who is positively NOT me, a less-than-amicable estrangement can net a tenacious shopper with more-than-amicable markdowns on a pristine white Fendi Spy, a barely-used Tomas Maier-era #oldBottega messenger, or a “new, fully equipped toddler’s potty chair — complete with a silver handle that makes flushing sounds.” One couple’s trash is, quite literally, another’s treasure.

In fact, the lengths we’re willing to go to simply so we don’t get reminded of our lousy exes can sometimes be rather extreme. Then again, who needs that overpriced leather sack of an anniversary present anyway – save for the hungering hoarders on eBay?

But does that mean yours truly regularly finds himself hunched over his laptop on an endless resale spiral, simply waiting around for couples to break up so he may score some sick deals on things he may not necessarily need? 

Not really – he isn’t a monster, after all. Unless a Sac de Jour happens to be involved.

And yet, it’s equally valid that when shopping secondhand, it’s now or never. Once it’s gotten away, it will likely stay that way. It’s what makes the hunt so thrilling in the first place. It’s also the driving force behind a new brand of consumerism.

Welcome to the era of online thrifting.

That’s Why They Call it Huntin’

As someone who never steps out of his home except on the rare occasions when he must present his visage at his day job (which, admittedly, is six days a week, but I digress) – hunting is a sport that, like all forms of sport, I’ve never found interesting.

But even as an avid anti-hunter, it’s not that difficult to perceive its appeal. Sitting motionless in the scorching sun or frigid frost, trying to assimilate oneself with nature, patiently preying on a species that’s likely already going extinct thanks to the climate crisis – all has its merits, I’m sure. And despite some fruitless days afield, the ultimate promise of the prize keeps you going.

Traditionally known as “antique-ing,” the resale hunt isn’t too dissimilar. The difference here is a far more convenient setting, and the prize is a bargain—or possibly an ultra-rare leather sack that costs more than it did at retail.

Indeed, this hunt is no less than an Olympic sport for the most seasoned shoppers within the resale realm, as if this next purchase transforms their destinies. As Liana Satenstein quips, “Once we get that one item, we will be more confident, more sexy, more elegant, more alluring, more professional, more whatever.” 

Sellers, therefore, must also put in good work, with “perfectly red lacquered nails flipping up the tags of Dolce & Gabbana sweaters and Versace pants to show the viewer that the item is indeed real,” or “freakish medical gloves, poking, prodding, and showing off interiors like a gynecologist or a serial killer.”

Consequently, the high of finally bagging that bag feels no less visceral.

Online Shoppers, Online Shopportunities

Now, it’s only natural that thrifting, once a predominantly physical pursuit, has moved online, and with that, so has our process of “becoming” through shopping.

Accordingly, the footsteps of eBay were followed by the likes of Depop – ostensibly the “the cool kids table in the cafeteria of e-commerce” – and Poshmark, known for its social gossip and themed virtual events (take your pick: “Wow-Worthy Wardrobe Posh Party,” “Everything Petite Posh Party,” or “Clothes I’m Now Too Fat to Wear” Posh Party?), not to mention, the scores of consignment stores like The RealReal and Fashionphile popping up in recent years with varying degrees of success.

Unsurprisingly, however, this proliferation of online shoppers and shopping sites chips away at the allure of resale. Like Satenstein elaborates, “Secondhand—that’s sustainable, right? Sure, but how I buy it – much via a screen – is not emotionally sustainable.” Online thrifting, especially for more significant sites, distills the spiritual fulfillment of an earnest search into a simple click.

Sure, you still have to wait for it, scroll for it, and maybe even burn the occasional incense. But ultimately, all you have to do is click, and instantly, it seems, all that dopamine and adrenaline drains out. Time to look for the subsequent void to fill.

Purse-Peace Strikes Again?

As a handbag head, every shopping-related endeavor seems to culminate in what I’ve been harping about for a while: the idea of purse peace.

And in this era of overconsumption, when even the act of thrifting – a traditionally “very demure, very mindful” notion – has now made its way into the TikTok hellscape of #influencing and #deinfluencing, it really does feel like the one thing we can do online without much trouble is shop, i.e., the very opposite of purse-peace.

Of course, as fashion critic and content creator Rian Phin notes, “If people had safer lives, safer housing, safety everything, this discourse probably wouldn’t exist. We shop recklessly when we feel it’s all we have.” So, if you haven’t set out to pursue purse peace, well, more power to you.

But for those of us who have mindfulness—not the TikTok-specific brand of demure mindfulness—it might just be the answer. Think of the value your next potential purchase might add to your life: how likely are you to use it?

As Satenstein summarizes, “If a tree falls in the forest and there’s nobody around, does it even make a sound? If you have a great Balenciaga dress but aren’t smoking a cigarette, buzzed, and feeling beautiful in it, are you even really wearing it?” Because it’s the thrill of the wear, not just the hunt, that makes what you buy worth it. Everything else feels disposable.

Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got to pick up my fourth package of the day.