Toaster, Sideburns, Friends…
When John Freyer decided to sell everything that he had, piece by piece, to the highest bidder on the internet, he meant everything.
The Observer, December 2002
Last month I placed the following listing on eBay, the internet’s best-known auction site. It appeared under the Books (Entertainment) section, and it had a reserve price of £1. I lifted the sales pitch directly from the jacket blurb on All My Life for Sale: ‘One day John Freyer decided to sell everything he owned on the internet. He invited his friends over to tag all the possessions in his apartment, and he systematically put them up for sale on eBay. An unopened box of taco shells, half a bottle of mouthwash, almost all of his clothes, his records, his sideburns (in a plastic bag), furniture: John didn’t let sentiment or utility stand in his way. Soon his belongings were sold all over the world, with a bag of Porky’s BBQ Pork Skins making its way to Japan, and a chair ending up in the Museum of Modern Art. With almost all the objects in his life now gone, he started the second phase of his journey: to visit his one-time possessions in their new homes.’
After this, I added some personal opinion (you have to be scrupulously honest about the condition of the items you sell on eBay, otherwise the buyer sends them back and leaves nasty comments about you in the Feedback section). ‘This is a fascinating new book, full of the joys of spring and crazy youth, has a couple of rabbit-ear folded corners and a stain from some fresh orange juice and some Marks & Spencer chocolate cake but otherwise in fine condition. I got this free, so am willing to let it go cheap because I can always call up for another fresh copy without the food stains from my PR contact Kate. I hope you enjoy it if you win, otherwise you’ve squandered whatever you’ve paid for it.’
The auction would last one week, and I indicated that I would be happy to send the book anywhere in the world so long as the buyer paid the postage. Any potential bidder would read the following information listed under Payment Instructions: ‘Good luck, and if you win I wonder whether I could maybe come round to see where the book is on your shelf, or on the shelf of the person you give it to. Please note: you are under no obligation to comply with this last wish, although it is in keeping with the spirit of the book. And obviously I’m not going to come around if you live more than a few miles away from me because life’s too short and I’ve got work to do, a dog to walk etc.’ The day after this book was listed on eBay, alongside perhaps 5 million other items, I flew to New York to meet its author.
‘My name is pronounced Fryer,’ John Freyer said in the Mayrose café at 420 Broadway two days later. ‘I’m 29, and I live in Iowa City, Iowa.’ He’s the fifth of seven children. He developed his taste for thrift culture and kitsch from the skateboard scene he enjoyed at his college town in Saratoga Springs, upstate New York. ‘My folks could never figure out why their educated son of an attorney was wearing dollar shirts. It may have been rebellion, I don’t know.’ He says he seldom had enough money to hang out at the mall and buy new things, ‘but I found I was still able to participate in the fun of consumerism by getting things from yard sales.’
He’s a cool-looking guy, not nearly as geeky as he appears on his bookflap, where he resembles Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel from The Simpsons. He used to wear contact lenses but he sold them, and now has horn-rimmed glasses. He wears jeans and a white T-shirt with a transfer of a tin of Plumrose Danish Ham on it, a photograph of the ham he sold for $2.50 after a bidding spat involving three people.
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