boots.
I remember collecting the box, carefully wrapped in pale brown packaging, the pair of uggs were stuffed within a shoebox of another brand. I opened the box, alone in my room, I had already envisioned what I'd wear them with. Thick fluffy boots to be paired with slim fitted jeans and a coat with a fur hood. Or maybe, a miniskirt and stockings, with something structured on top in a similar shade to the honey brown suede of the boots. I had salivated upon hearing of their arrival and as I drew closer to the collection point I drew closer to this reality, this sense of ease we feel momentarily when engaging in consumerism had swallowed me up. My mind revved with thoughts of excitement. My very own pair of UGGS, that I had found for £11 on vinted.
I opened the box, its modern design contrasting with this evidently dated pair of shoes. The box had a hinged opening rather than a lid you would lift off as a separate entity, and in its top right corner a minimal-sigil-like logo was printed in a shade of pale grey, contrasting against the light brown of the cardboard. I'm sure a degree of thought was invested in its design but I couldn't shake my disdain towards the present-day surge in minimalism, I remember thinking it all felt cheap.
Gone were the maximal 3D glistening logos of my childhood that seemed to ooze luxury, each brand nowadays seemed to be closely related in terms of visuals. Back then it was as if each brand was desperate to differentiate themselves. Similarity meant failure and innovation was king.
I pulled one boot from the box and its signs of wear suddenly became all too noticeable - the veil of contentment had begun to slip and fall. The fluff that that lined its edges had lost some volume and the blonde curly strands of a stranger seemed to fix themselves into the trim of the boots. I held them up to the light for further inspection and noticed the suede was patchy and dotted with dark brown and white specks. Stains of unknown origin.
Continuing my search, I peered cautiously into the shoe itself, and the fur of the sole, that part where my foot was expected to go was flattened, its fibres matted gently, in effect of the wear from someone else.
Despite me liking vintage items, the premise that this had been worn was suddenly too much to bear, I hurriedly stuffed them back into the box and abandoned all my previously concocted fantasies. Failing to realise the irony in my dissappointment, the very thing that I had bought and welcomed into my room now felt like an invasion. They were no longer my vintage uggs but now, they were simply used vessels that I wanted nothing to do with.
The absurdity of it all, something that I was so excited to recieve had now left me reeling. I sent my thumbs into action and issued a report through vinted, detailing how they didnt look as worn in their pictures, in comparison to real life, and the presence of the hair strands was especially unacceptable, making sure to provide photo evidence of the sellers 'crimes' . Imagine that! being sent photos of an item that was once yours, and being condemned as there is evidence of that fact.
The presence of the hairs themselves, for a moment made me remember that what I so desperately wanted to wear, once belonged to someone else. As if the used item itself doesnt evidence that enough, these pesky keratin strands - direct samples of an other - became so off putting. All these things I had purchased in virtue of their second hand nature had never made me feel how I felt in that moment. Yes, these boots werent in perfect condition, but regardless of the fact I realise the irony of my disgust. In searching for used goods in a place primarily for used goods, you will recieve used goods.
Perhaps it was just the nature of this item that disillusioned me to second hand purchases just for a moment. In the same way you find comfort in your own messy room or stained pjamas, spending a night in someone elses would be lacking of this sense belonging and familiarity. Instead of this sense of knowing, having reason behind each stray sock or blemish on the surface of your favourite joggers, you are left thinking "ew!" as you are only able to conceive this item now, very now, and are permanently barred from how it came to be in this moment.
Perhaps if I had a little more insight into who the previous owner was, their hairs wouldnt leave me feeling so unnerved, maybe I would be more forgiving and nurse these shoes back into shape. But I dont, so in effect of this maybe I can invest in a brand new pair one day, and let them become dirty and worn in my very own way. Ill find solace in their eventual watermarks and creased toe box, and relish the day I finally break them in. When they become overrun with me and all that I am ill slide them on thoughtlessly and find solace in the fact that they are all mine, and always have been.
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what did u thinkkk !!! ive been wanting to write something longer and i finally did and I really like it. also im thinking of changing the title to 'used' maybe that will be more grabbing? idk idk lmkkkk. If you are still reading you're amazing!! please let me know what you thought! even if you are a stranger to me.