Pandemic Poshmark

When I started selling my old things on Poshmark, it was all fun and games. Back in the spring of 2019, it seemed like anything was possible. After some deliberation and comparisons between online marketplaces, I decided to open up an account on Poshmark with hopes of de-cluttering and parting with my possessions in what looked like a very fun and welcoming community of fashionistas and influencers. I was not wrong.

Poshmark was everything I expected it to be. There was the listing and the sharing, the community, and the sales. Fun virtual parties where sharing items of a certain theme could lead to a surprise sale. I got followers by the thousands. I even won a small prize in their “Make a Deal Days” promotion. Everything was going great.

I bought and sold on Poshmark every week. My earnings gave me extra money to buy new things that I loved. In a few taps, I was able to compile bundles of goodies that ranged from new jeans and tops to old Disney memorabilia and even gifts. Quickly, I became a “Posh Ambassador” and found joy in sharing posts about the brand on social media. I was cleaning out my closet. I was selling. I was having fun doing it.

Time flew by. 2020 arrived. I celebrated. The sales continued. While they weren’t huge, it gave me satisfaction to know that people wanted my old things. There was unseen value in what lived in the depths of my dresser and armoire. By using the site, I was able to give new life to forgotten or unused things filling my extra storage space.

Selling through Poshmark became m a fun hobby that allowed me to be part of a virtual community of people who loved fashion and recycling through online sales. The positive reviews, or “love notes,” as Poshmark calls them, made me very happy. I truly loved each step of the process, from listing, to getting sales, to receiving feedback. Each package I carefully checked and packed. I wrote personalized thank you notes for each of my buyers with smiley faces and hearts.

Then came the pandemic. When everything shut down, I closed my little Poshmark shop using their “vacation mode” feature and hid away while hoping that everything would be fine soon. Months passed. Things weren’t fine. I kept my closet closed for six months. The pandemic wasn’t ending. I decided to re-open my Poshmark closet in the fall, while still hoping for the best.

Before the pandemic, I used to happily take a walk to the post office and squeeze in a small workout while going to get my shipments scanned. Now, I schedule a pickup and have my packages picked up by our mail carrier. I’ve lost my routine, but I’m working hard to build a new one.

There’s a deep sadness caused by the pandemic, all the suffering, sickness, and death. It seems like it’s only getting worse with time. The joy I once found in Poshmark has faded away. Now it is just another chore, something to check off my to-do list. I don’t even write those happy little “hope you love this item!” or “have a great day!” notes anymore. Not when I know that there’s so much suffering going on in the world right now.

But we need to stay positive and try to wait for the rainbow at the end of the storm. I’m just hoping tomorrow will be better than today. Sometimes progress just happens in baby steps. Maybe some time next year, the worst will be over and I can start writing those happy little thank you notes again.