After a Fashion

SHOP AVATARIOUSLY I've been eBaying lately. And no, not just buying. I've been listing collectibles my mother had saved, and have even begun to sort through the detritus of my move into much smaller quarters. Interesting to see how that goes. The results have been mixed. Barbies are a tricky thing to collect. It doesn't matter how pretty you think this Barbie is, it's probably that one that will escalate in value. The Millennium Princess Barbie 2000, holding her own millennium ornament and bedecked in blue velvet and silver lace, was faaabulous in her synthetic blondeness, but you can hardly give her away on eBay these days. However, the African-American Holiday Special Barbie from 2004 is very hot and has lots of watchers. I listed a few things of my own – books, memorabilia, ephemera .... The Dom DeLuise autograph on Chateau Marmont stationery from 1985? Not so hot. The auction catalog from Christie's East with the Tina Chow couture collection from 1993? Forget about it. It sold, literally, in minutes. Fastest transaction ever. I think my Buy It Now price was much too low. Oh well, live and learn. I was just pleased that someone else wanted this stuff that I've been lugging from coast to coast for so much of my life. But I am regularly flummoxed by eBay's byzantine fee schedule. I'm particularly fond of what they call the Final Value Fee. Final Value. It sounds so ... so ... final. Like a death tax or something. Final wishes. Well it's my final wish to rid myself of this stuff that I thought was so important. I thought for so long that my belongings defined who I was, and it was fun to have some sort of tangible or printed verification that I had indeed done these things – photos of models I'd worked with (Naomi Campbell, Tyson Beckford, Kate Moss, Lucky Vanous, and a hundred of those models that you'd only see by reading Men's Fitness or Men's Health magazines), programs from fashion shows that I assisted with (Prada, Miu Miu, Donna Karan, Carolina Herrera), programs from Broadway shows I'd attended (Betty Buckley's final performance as Norma in Sunset Boulevard, Tyne Daly in Gypsy, Tim Curry and Andrea Martin in My Favorite Year), ticket stubs, advertisements, and handbills. I just want it all out of my life at this point. It's just too much of a burden to drag around my past and keep trying to find a place to store it while it gets continually larger. Something like that. You know what I'm talking about. (Just nod and say, "Yes.")