Last week, I accidentally posted my one and only hair roller to France. Why do I own just one? A fair question. During my most recent visit to the salon, I asked for a “bit of a fringe”. Knowing me as she does and knowing I absolutely did not have any at home, my incredible hairdresser Lisa presented me with a singular roller as I was leaving, so I could attempt to style it myself. The fringe has been a hit, and I have bowled over at least two gatherings with the volume I’ve created. Until I posted the roller to France.
This all came about because of a 2025 resolution to buy nothing and get rid of everything. I, like so many people, gathered a truly deranged mountain of items during the pandemic. Roller skates, a jumper debobbler and, during a particularly weak moment, a Shakti Acupressure Mat that I used once. Those Instagram ads can really wear you down.
I wouldn’t say I had a shopping addiction, but I wasn’t far off. Each little treat or trend came with the certainty that this would be the notebook/dress/paint-by-numbers kit that would solve all my problems. Coupled with the frankly terrifying speed with which jumper debobblers and electric blankets for cats can now be delivered, my treats really lulled me down an expensive and environmentally irresponsible path. I started this year with a determination to buy almost nothing, and to get rid of whatever’s not serving me. Hint: none of it is serving me.
Enter Vinted, a buying and selling platform for used clothes. It expanded into Ireland late last year and, somewhat curiously, connects Irish users exclusively with those in France, creating a bilateral market of second-hand Savida dresses and exotic French high-street brands. I’ve been haggling away on Vinted now for weeks. The French have less time for, well, anything than the Irish. One told me that my price for an expensive Selkie dress was “un problème”, and many of them demand extensive measurements for the most basic of garments. Of course, I’m imagining a lot of sighing and beret-flinging and gnashing of teeth on baguettes during these exchanges.
A few days after sending off one of my successful sales to La Rochelle, I received a message asking if I had accidentally included a petite pochette, a small pouch, containing some pens. I had been going mildly mad because they were nice pens and I could not fathom where I had lost them between a meeting in Stoneybatter and home to Dublin 8.
Except I hadn’t lost them. I had packaged them up alongside “Adidas Ultra Wide Leg Bottoms, New With Tags” and sent them across the waves. In subsequent correspondence with my new French pen pal, it emerged that the petit pochette also contained my one hair roller. I’m not sure how it ended up with the pens, but I had been going around very limp-fringed. The La Rochelle angel has agreed to send my bits and pieces back to me. When I told my writing partner, Sarah Breen, about the mishap, she shrieked. We had written such a scenario into one of our Complete Aisling books, except it was the cordless house phone that was sent off to Australia in a box full of Wispas and Meanies.
Meanwhile, I’ve joined a few local freecycle and swapping groups in a bid to get rid of some household items. Anything goes in these groups. No matter if it’s a bottle of washing-up liquid with two squirts left or a shoebox of random cables that “might work, don’t know what any of them are for”, people will attempt to get rid of it. Baby items exchange hands at breakneck speeds, while the audacity of some of the ISO (in search of) posts are breathtaking. ISO an iPad Pro and four White Fox hoodies. Can only collect between 9.47am and 9.51am on Sunday. Can swap for this Aldi Bag for Life. Has a small hole.
My tactic in these groups is to always offer to deliver. I’ve seen too many passive-aggressive “this half bag of compost still available because somebody never collected” messages to know that expecting strangers to follow through on collecting the Shakti Mat is a tall order. Arriving at their home and forcing it on them is the only way. It’s their problem now.
I greatly anticipate the return of my pens and hair roller. What an adventure they’ve been on! Luckily, my commitment to buying nothing in 2025 means that I hadn’t yet replaced them. Not for the want of trying. Turns out attempting to buy just the one roller will get you some odd looks in the chemist.
