There are just 10 types of Depop seller and they’re all equally infuriating
If you’re a charity shop raider you’re going to hell
Picture the scene: it’s night, you’re in bed, blissfully minding your own business when your phone suddenly buzzes. Concerned that a late night text could spell out bad news – friend or family member in distress maybe? You check it:
It’s a private message from Depop user brandygirl2002_x: ‘Hey hun! Saw you’d liked a skirt similar to one on my page except I’m selling mine WAY cheaper and it’s 100% genuine! Lmk if you’re interested <3 <3′.
You think back to all of those items you liked that you had zero intention of buying when you were three G&Ts deep and having a sad scroll through Depop, and you begin to regret every decision that ever led you down the rabbit whole of the explore page. Your inbox is clogged with messages from all kinds of sellers, each trying to squeeze the last of your student loan out of you, and honestly, who can blame them?
Since its founding in 2011, Depop has rocketed in popularity, and with the economy taking a downward turn and increasing awareness over the perils of fast fashion, the digital second-hand marketplace appears like a win-win: buyers can shop more sustainably, and sellers can exercise their entrepreneurial skills by flogging everything from hand-painted bucket hats to their Dad’s crusty old jumpers.
But the social media/e-commerce platform hybrid of Depop has allowed for its users to evolve and mutate into distinguished ~types~, types which are all as annoying as each other as they claw their way into your DMs at 2am. In case you haven’t had the sheer misfortune of encountering them all yet, here’s a rundown.
The Brandy Melville girl
The Brandy girl is possibly the most prevalent seller on Depop right now. She’s sweet, savvy, and, despite being 14, cooler than you ever will be. Her items are plastered with ‘100% GENUINE!!! SUPER RARE!!’ and she calls you hun in every message. She will sell you a fake Brandy Melville cami and feel absolutely no remorse – her bio says ‘no returns’ so it’s really your fault that you spent 25 quid on a SHEIN tank top. Oh, and her profile icon is almost definitely a Bratz doll, which makes you more intimidated by her even though she’s probably in year 9.
The humble bragger
Just when you think you’ve stumbled across the perfect item, you’re hit by those three little words: ‘Not actually selling!!’, or, even worse, ‘interest check!’. The logic is there, but are these people actually selling? Or are they just flexing too hard? Extra points if it’s listed for £1 with the caption ‘DO NOT BUY you will not be refunded’, or listed for an outlandishly high price to deter people from buying, leading to situations such as ‘Hi you’ve paid 12 grand for a bralet?’. Absolutely iconic.
hi you’ve paid 12 grand for a bralet pic.twitter.com/oPPOmLBgCW
— Depop Drama (@depopdrama) June 14, 2020
The charity shop raider
Not a lot needs to be said about this one except that it is BAD and DON’T do it (here’s why).
if u buy stuff from charity shops Just to resell it on depop for an extortionate amount … Stop it❤️
— alice (@mt_eddy) July 12, 2020
The cul-de-sac Roadman
His semi-professional branding may be deceiving at first, but upon further investigation you soon find that this is not a reputable vintage seller, and more a 17 year old trying to flip his old Topman collection, hoping to make some quick ps if he uses the tags ‘street roadman rap drill supreme’ enough times. His shop is a strange mix of creased Superdry tops from year 11 and quite a lot of Obey items that he desperately needs to sell before going to uni because god forbid he arrives in last season’s streetwear. His bio guarantees super fast delivery, just don’t message him on a bank holiday ’cause he’ll be out getting shitfaced with the boys.
Not unlike a Sports Direct closing sale, ‘EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!’ is plastered all over her bio. Her wardrobe is full and her bank account is empty. ‘Make offers!!’ she pleads as she presumably struggles for air underneath the piles of clothes swamping her room. Please. Just take it. You can almost hear her cry as she descends further and further into her overdraft.
Hand-painting jeans, tie-dyeing socks, and embroidering Nike swooshes onto Primark vests (copyright infringement, btw) – you name it, she’s done it. She found herself thriving over lockdown, with absolutely nothing else to do but stain her mum’s carpet with bleach, however now she’s got a bit of a backlog of handmade, hand-painted, hand-bleached items she really needs to sell in order to fund her new Hobbycraft obsession. Of course, these sellers are often extremely talented artists and up-cyclers, but there is a very unique feeling of shame attached to spending a tenner on a pair of tie-dyed socks.
‘10% off if you follow me on Insta!!!’. She’s just using Depop to build her social media following and make some cash at the same time. Honestly, I don’t blame her – if I met all of the conventional beauty criteria and was running for Love Island I would probably do the same – but I also don’t really want to scroll through her holiday photos whilst I sit in her old Zara jumper and cry. Bonus points if PLT sent her that dress for free and she’s flogging it for full retail value – classic influencer behaviour. All of her shop prices are slightly too high because she has very little grasp on economics, other than the Waitrose meal deal for two.
Daddy’s wardrobe raider
Her bio rather aggressively says ‘Message before buying’ because she can only post when she’s home from boarding school. Her shop is suspiciously specialised in vintage, XL jumpers, even though she’s a size eight. Daddy is gonna be raging when he finds out she sold his 90’s Ralphie fleece and used the profits to fund her upcoming Bali trip. Still, it’s only revenge ’cause he voted Tory.
The sneaky Sports Direct seller
A distant cousin of the charity shop raider, this savvy seller caught on early that Slazenger tennis skirts (amongst other lower-end sports brands) were in high demand, and in the true spirit of capitalism, quickly copped multiple for a fiver each at Sports Direct. She’ll sell them for fifty quid a pop and, if you’re lucky, she might chuck in one of those giant mugs. Or maybe the giant mug is you.
The nitty one
Your vintage Adidas sweater will arrive with various ciggie burns that were conveniently left out of the description, and either smells faintly of weed or like it’s been Febrezed within an inch of its life. Of course, you knew exactly what you were getting when the description said ‘lightly used’ and all the photos were from Boomtown 2019. Extra points if there’s a baggie in the pocket.