My day job is in the mortgage industry, where I lived through what I affectionately call the Great Decline of 2007–2008.
“Affectionately” is doing a lot of work there.
Before things fell apart, people were flipping houses like the next buyer was guaranteed. Buy it, mark it up, sell it. Repeat until the music stops and somebody is holding a property they can’t afford.
What does this have to do with used clothing, professor?
Well, I’m glad you asked.
Every time I see another BOLO video, a small part of my mortgage brain starts twitching.
BOLO means “Be On the Lookout”—usually for a brand that sells fast, brings big money, or apparently has magical powers if you find it in a Goodwill.
I enjoy these videos. Show me a rack full of ridiculous finds and I’ll watch along with everybody else. Resellers are treasure hunters. Of course we want to see the treasure.
And the person making the video is doing their job: sharing information, entertaining people, and making a living. Fair enough.
But there’s a funny thing about telling thousands of treasure hunters exactly what to dig for.
They go find it.
A brand that looked like a great opportunity gets everybody’s attention. More sellers list it. Buyers get more choices. Demand doesn’t automatically disappear, but now your shirt has considerably more competition.
The resale price in the video starts looking ambitious. Sell-through slows. Somebody sends you an offer that feels like a personal attack.
And suddenly, you’re in a long-term relationship with a shirt you thought was a weekend fling.
I know because I’ve been that guy.
I’ve bought the brand, believed the hype, and brought home inventory that eventually became part of the storage system. At a certain point, you stop thinking of it as merchandise and start wondering whether it needs an emergency contact.
The video might have been perfectly accurate when it was made. That’s another little wrinkle: these things keep circulating.
You’re watching someone announce a hot brand, but the video could be old enough to have its own sourcing mistakes. By the time it reaches you, that helpful tip might be a carton of milk with a deeply concerning smell.
Meanwhile, you’re standing in a thrift store holding the brand like you’ve just recovered Spanish gold.
Sometimes you have. Sometimes you’ve recovered a shirt.
That’s where I’ve learned to pause and check what’s happening now. What are comparable pieces actually selling for? How many have sold? How many are still sitting there waiting for their big moment?
The brand gets my attention. The current numbers help decide whether it comes home.
I still enjoy a good BOLO. I just try to remember that a video showing somebody else’s great find doesn’t automatically make mine a great purchase.
Otherwise, that plain navy blue Tommy Bahama shirt moves into Bin 14, gets comfortable, and starts receiving mail.
Living rent-free in the bin.
And in my head.
Happy thrifting!
From the Hunt
This week, we’re visiting after the hunt—when the treasure has been sitting around long enough that you’re ready to negotiate its departure.
I promised myself that once we reached a certain active-listing goal, we’d clear out some of our questionable early purchases. Today, a bunch of those pieces finally headed for the door.
There’s a strange emotional sequence to a fire sale.
First: “YES! It sold!”
Then you look at the numbers.
“Oh. That’s what I did.”
Watching a freeloading piece of inventory leave its bin is exciting. Watching what it does to your margin feels a little like being handed the bill after a party you barely remember enjoying.
But it frees up space and puts some cash back to work. It also gives me a very specific reminder of what to leave on the rack next time.
That’s tuition, provided I actually learned something.
So I’ll take the recovered dollars, make a better decision, and keep moving.
I would prefer not to pay for the same class twice.