My heart races whenever I spot a one-of-a-kind vintage find in the knick-knack section of a thrift store. But then I notice a chip or crack, so I put it back. While the item might hold sentimental value, it doesn’t belong in my vintage shop, where I focus on high-quality pieces that have stood the test of time.
When my younger sister, Hillary, and I turned our passion for vintage collecting into a small business nearly three years ago, we had no idea how challenging it would be or how long it would take to sell even a single vintage item.
Most people think it’s as simple as picking out an item, snapping a few photos, crafting a clever title, and posting it on a platform. But there’s so much more to running our tiny online vintage shop.
We had to figure out the best places to find great items, how to navigate unpredictable markets, how to conduct in-depth historical research, how to clean and restore delicate pieces, how to set up systems, how to determine the value of our vintage objects, and, most importantly, how to tell their stories.
We have to dig, sift, and sort
To source great items for the shop, Travel Far Now Vintage, my sister and I love a good thrift store haul, estate sale dig, antique mall stroll, or flea market frenzy. But in the early days of selling vintage items, we started with the stuff in our own childhood home.
Our mother collected all kinds of objects, from porcelain flowers to royal portraits in filigree frames, and we didn’t know what to do with them all when she passed away. We were excited to discover a vast online world of collectors seeking niche nostalgia.
As the shop grew, we expanded and diversified our search. We learned that consistency is key. These days, we source items three to five times a week.
This work has led us into all kinds of scenarios: scaling mold-infested shelves, digging deep into dusty boxes, and sorting through basement barrels.
Sometimes we walk away with a bundle of goodies. Other days, we leave empty-handed. But we always shop with criteria for what we’re looking for and how much we’re willing to spend.
Pricing is a bit of a puzzle
We consider the item’s quality, rarity, and what we paid for it. But it’s more art than science.
Within an ecosystem of secondhand goods at increasingly competitive prices, we determine an item’s price based on the current market. We sometimes research the “sold rate” of similar items, but that’s not always accurate as trends change.
I try to land on a price that accurately reflects the item’s value itself, as well as all the hidden labor that goes into presenting it. This includes digging in chaotic environments, restoring objects, researching their histories, telling their stories in listings, and promoting them on social media.
The price of an item also includes costs like gas, shipping, and packing supplies, as well as platform fees and ads.
This usually means there’s a markup over the original price — sometimes more or less — depending on the object’s rarity as a collector’s item.
What are the ethics?
At a recent estate sale, I picked up a vintage paperback of Jack Kerouac’s “The Dharma Bums,” a mid-century classic popular among Beat Generation collectors. I bought it for a very reasonable price in great condition. The demand for a rare item like this allows for a higher markup, and I’m okay with that. It makes me happy to know this book will find its way into the hands of someone who will truly appreciate it.
Some people may consider this to be taking advantage of someone else’s loss or lack of knowledge. When I buy or sell vintage items, I value integrity, fairness, and transparency on both sides. But this work is about finding gems in the junk, reviving objects that might otherwise be overlooked or tossed.
I store and care for these items and then connect them with people who value them. The markup reflects that work as much as it reflects the item’s scarcity or market value.
It’s impossible to sell vintage online without hearing complaints that Goodwill and other thrift stores are driving up vintage prices. But all the stuff people don’t want anymore has to go somewhere — and that, too, comes at a cost.
Like any other business, charity shops, antique malls, and flea markets must calculate the costs of storing, cleaning, and selling these items.
My sister and I entered the vintage reselling world as grieving daughters and remain as enthusiastic storytellers — eager to connect people with vintage items that bring them joy. We factor in all the invisible work that goes into this business, but ultimately it’s a labor of love.