Secondhand News
Lamentations on my closet, written while spiraling about lost Carousell likes.
(Originally written for Credible Insights by Monday Off. Subscribe to our weekly dispatch here.)
What’s in your saved searches?
When I was in 8th grade, I distinctly remember setting up notifications for specific Carousell keywords: “Glossier,” “high-waisted,” and “vintage.”
All three were utter rarities in a retail, mall-favored Manila consumer economy. These foundational shopping years were spent trying to stretch my allowance to accommodate my blooming tastes, which was impossible at a mall. I have to look cute, and I will make sure I do at very little cost.
Carousell is an online marketplace that is clunky and simplistic in its algorithm (wow, look at me glazing a lesser-evil algorithm). It takes a bit of digging to get into the groove, which feels rewarding when you stumble upon a grail piece buried under similar, similar, similar items. It sometimes helps to search for brands in common misspellings to find something listed without much thought.
Shopping secondhand has become second nature to me. I started this year with a challenge in the form of a resolution to never buy anything new for my closet in 2026, in an effort to decenter material items as non-necessities. Fashion becomes a bonus that I bet on, leaving it up to God and fate. But ultimately, that fate is not decided by God. Instead, I’m beholden to the tastes of those lucky or fortunate enough to have the pieces I want in the first place. If I want a very specific Celine, I have to pray that there’s a tita out there who willingly spent a month’s salary on it and is ready to toss it aside. I am the little diva sewage rat who is ready to feast on her leftover scraps.
Every day, I search for SS26 Versace1, and the brand name alone triggers a gazillion listings for gold lion underwear and gaudy athleisure. Maybe in a couple of years, my mental buy-in and belief in this collection will be vindicated by a half-assed listing.
The little C2C dance I share with a seller supposedly creates a stronger sense of agency in my consumption (I tell myself), instead of having to partake in the conveyor belt created (I wanted to use the word “curated” here, but I think that would be giving them too much credit) by corporate retail fashion buyers who think little of taste and more about scale.
(Sorry to be ageist to these ALD millennials, but I hate you all and you have no grip on cultural reality, and that’s why AI will replace you, because the job no longer makes having taste necessary in the first place.)
But is this, again, just a lesser evil? And when I’ve amassed my collection of scraps, will I become the provider to other young girls looking for their grail pieces? Is that the cycle I’m destined to continue if I’m to fully commit to the process?
I have kept my saved searches the same. To remind me where I came from.
This format I should revisit where I corresponded a runway look from Dario Vitale’s SS26 Versace debut to the song I imagined they were listening to.
Feeling vindicated af right now since my mother Prophet Pizza just released a piece saying all the things I want to say x100
seriously i think about your insta post everyday