This Crystal Ring has seen some things. I bought it three years ago from a magic store in Rotterdam. It glows in the dark, but only in empty hallways. Never in crowds. It's like it's trying to tell me something.

The left shoe is slightly warmer than the right one. I've measured it. Consistent 2-degree difference. My podiatrist says that's "physically impossible" but here we are. They're incredibly comfortable though, especially between 2-4 AM.

There's a small stain on the right toe that looks exactly like a moth. I've tried to clean it seventeen times. It always comes back. Same shape. Same position. I've made peace with it.

Size adjustable. No returns, obviously. It won't let you.

Found this beauty in my grandfather's attic, though he swears he's never seen it before in his life. The leather is surprisingly soft, and it smells faintly of cinnamon and regret. The label inside says "Made in a place you've never been" which I thought was a translation error, but now I'm not so sure.

It has four pockets. I've only ever found three. The fourth one appears on Tuesdays, contains exactly seven cents, then vanishes. There's a small tear on the left sleeve that I repaired, but sometimes I wake up and it's torn again in the exact same spot.

When you wear it, people you haven't met yet will say "nice jacket" with a strange familiarity. It photographs differently every time - sometimes brown, sometimes black, once it was burgundy in a photo but I was definitely wearing brown that day.

Size M/L. Fits like it was made for you, whoever you are.

Bought this shirt last year and it fit perfectly, since then I realised how the face changes everyday, always a poker face. It always seems familiar yet not familiar enough.

My friends always tell me how the shirt is starring at them, the longer they stare back the more the face starts to mirror theirs. The expression never changes, so nothing to worry about.

Size S, machine washable. It come out of the wash with its eyes closed, they reopen as it dries up in direct sunlight.

Can Santa see in the dark? Does he wear night vision goggles that make everyone green... everything green?

I bet he’d like that because Santa likes green. Or heat vision goggles because he might like red better.

Should we leave out carrots not cookies on Christmas Eve they’re good for his eyesight. Noooo

The twinkling lights on the tree will make enough for Santa to see towing past chairs without bumping to leave a present or two or three and get a kiss from the dog if it’s a dog that leaks and take a cookie for two or three and then leave.

Santa goes the same way he comes down. I have no idea how he does that but I’m so glad.

Santa seeking employment for off season. Is willing to work for minimum wage.

I don't know how else to say this: the arm is alive. Not metaphorically. It's conscious. Self-aware. It has opinions about things. Mostly about your choice of socks, but occasionally about geopolitical issues.

I've owned it for six months and in that time it has: insulted my poor jewelery choice of the day with a handwritten note in my bathroom. The handwriting looked like my own but backwards.

Stainless Steel arm decor piece, perfect fit for religious households. Non-refundable for obvious reasons.

Tailored sweater from a brand I can't pronounce and can never find online. The tag says "Front" on what is clearly the back, and "Back" on what is clearly the front. I wore it the "correct" way once to a job interview and everyone kept asking if I was feeling alright.

When worn backwards (which feels like forwards), it's the most professional-looking sweater I've ever owned. I got the job. Three promotions in two months. But then I started having dreams in reverse - I'd watch my day unfold backwards every night, from sleeping to waking. My sleep specialist said this was impossible.

Size 38. Fits perfectly when worn incorrectly. Dry clean only, but it never seems to get dirty anyway.

I'm selling an invisible scarf. Before you close this tab, hear me out. I bought this from a woman at a flea market in Amsterdam who insisted it was there. She wrapped it around my neck and I felt it. Soft, cashmere-like, warm but breathable. She charged me €45 for it.

I cannot see it. My partner cannot see it. But I can feel it. It's there. When I wear it, my neck is exactly 3 degrees warmer than the rest of my body. I've measured this with a thermal camera - there's a scarf-shaped heat signature around my neck. The camera sees it. My eyes don't.

People compliment me on it sometimes. "Nice scarf," they'll say, looking directly at my bare neck. When I ask them to describe it, they can't. They just know it's nice. I've worn it to parties, to work, to the grocery store. 60% of people acknowledge it. 40% look at me like I'm insane.

I'm selling it because I need the space in my closet, even though I can't see it taking up space. You'll have to trust that I'm mailing you something.

Originally this came as a set of two. One is navy blue with tiny anchors, the other is black with no pattern. They are not mates. They have never been mates. They have separated since.

I've owned them for four years and they haven't worn out at all. No holes, no thinning, no pilling. The elastic is still perfect. They should be falling apart by now but they're in better condition than when I bought them. Actually, I don't remember buying them. They were just... there one day.

Size fits EU 40-46. They adjust. Don't ask me how. Matching is overrated anyway.

Size M. Worn once. Too mysterious.

This longsleeve is not bound by temporal constraints. I've owned it for five years, ten years, and three days, all simultaneously. The care tag says "Made in 1987" but also "Made in 2034" depending on when you look at it. The fabric composition changes too - sometimes 100% cotton, sometimes 60% wool, once it said "100% concept."

When you wear it, time gets weird. Not dramatically - you won't start aging backwards or anything. But you'll arrive at places five minutes before you left. Your coffee will be hot when you're sure it should be cold. You'll remember conversations that haven't happened yet. Small things. Manageable things. Deeply unsettling things.

I once wore it to a doctor's appointment and the receptionist said "Welcome back" even though it was my first visit. When I corrected her, she showed me records of six previous appointments, all scheduled for next month. I haven't gone to any of them yet. I don't think I will. Or have. Or am?

Color is "Cream" or "Red" or "The Absence of Tomorrow." Size M but it fits everyone.

This plate stares back at you while you eat. Sometimes it eats some food off of itself, but only sometimes (it has particular taste).

I bought it at a flee market of a man who had a whole collection of them. At first I was about to buy a few more but he only allowed for me to get this one. I thought he was in a bad mood or something.

Comes with an original box (which is also both new and old).

Cheeta style hat, keeps your head warm. Also screams. Not loudly - it's more of a muffled existential wail that only you can hear. The first time it happened I was in a supermarket and I genuinely thought I was having a breakdown. Turns out it was just the hat expressing its feelings about dairy prices.

It screams about once every three days, usually at inconvenient times. During meetings, on first dates, in libraries. The scream lasts exactly 7 seconds and sounds like wind passing through a very disappointed cave. Nobody else can hear it.

Despite the screaming, it's genuinely a great hat. The screaming has actually become kind of comforting? Like having a dramatic friend who occasionally needs to vent. Sometimes I scream back. We have an understanding now.

One size fits most. Hand wash only (machine washing makes it scream for 48 hours straight, learned that the hard way). Currently not screaming but no guarantees.

Black oversized hoodie with kangaroo pocket. Perfect condition physically. Emotionally? Devastated. This hoodie has been through things. I bought it during a rough patch and apparently it absorbed all of that energy like some kind of fabric sponge.

When you wear it, you'll feel an overwhelming urge to listen to indie music in the rain and text people who don't deserve you. It amplifies melancholy. My therapist noticed I was significantly sadder on Tuesdays and it took me three weeks to realize those were the days I wore this hoodie.

Size XL (fits like emotional baggage). Machine washable but it comes out of the dryer even sadder. 80% cotton, 20% unprocessed grief.

Only worn once.

Used. Don't question anything.

Two for the price of one. You won't find a better deal.

I ordered it from what I thought was an alternative fashion website but when I try to find the site again, the URL just leads to a blank page that plays very faint screaming sounds.

When you wear it, you can feel it looking at you. Not in a creepy way - more like a dog watching its owner. Curious. Patient. Slightly judgmental about your posture. When I walk past mirrors, sometimes I see the top in the reflection before I see myself. It's always perfectly positioned, perfectly laced, like it's posing.

Size M. Fits true to size. Full refund if you can figure out how to return it to the void.

Cream-colored cardigan, soft knit, grandma-core aesthetic. Also has perfect memory of every embarrassing thing you've ever done and will remind you at random moments. I'll be having a perfectly nice day and then suddenly I'm thinking about that time in 2011 when I waved back at someone who wasn't waving at me.

The cardigan does this. I know it sounds insane. But I've tested it - I only have these intrusive cringe memories when I'm wearing this specific cardigan. I let my roommate borrow it once and she came back thirty minutes later, took it off, and said "Why did I just remember every awkward middle school moment simultaneously?"

It's actually helped me process a lot of stuff though? Like exposure therapy but for embarrassment. After wearing it for a few weeks, I've made peace with my cringe past. I am cringe, but I am free. The cardigan taught me that. It's like a very judgmental but ultimately supportive life coach.

Size L. Machine washable (will not forget anything even when wet). Comes with emotional baggage, literal and metaphorical.

Selling for obvious reasons. Send a message for offers, the beanie will respond (might get offended)

One size fits all

Michael was my boss back in the day. He gave me this t-shirt for my birthday. He said if I try to sell it he will terminate my employment. Luckily I don't work there anymore.

Size M (he said I could fit it if I'd lost some weight)

This shirt gives you the will power to start pickling everything. As soon as I took the short off I realised I pickled everything in my fridge, even the orange juice.

Size L. Can only be worn by eastern europeans otherwise it won't give up the recipe.

Black shirt. The tag says 100% cotton but I'm not convinced. I've never been able to determine what this shirt is actually made of. It doesn't feel like cotton. It doesn't behave like cotton. When I had it tested at a fabric lab, the results came back as "inconclusive" with a note saying "please don't bring this back."

The shirt lies about other things too. It's definitely not machine washable like the tag claims - I tried once and it came out perfectly dry despite being in a full wash cycle. The size says Large but it fits differently every time I wear it. Sometimes it's fitted, sometimes it's oversized, once it was somehow a crop top even though I swear it was full-length when I put it on.

But it's the most comfortable shirt I own. Temperature regulating, never wrinkles, always smells fresh even when it definitely shouldn't. People always compliment it. "Great shirt," they say, touching it briefly and then pulling their hand back with a confused expression.

Size says L (probably lying). Buttons work normally (surprisingly honest). Makes you look like you have your life together (definitely lying). Perfect for fall, winter, spring, summer, and dimensions yet unnamed.

Meow, meowy meow meow meeeow meow... Meow meowwww.

Meow M, meowy meeow

Fluffy hat, New York style, very artsy. Also insufferable. This hat thinks it's better than other hats. I can feel its pretentious energy radiating from the top of my head. When I wear it, I suddenly have opinions about independent cinema and think Americanos are pedestrian. I don't even like coffee.

The hat makes me want to sit in cafes and write in leather-bound journals about the ennui of modern existence. It's impossible to wear this without tilting it at a precise 45-degree angle. I've tried wearing it straight - it literally won't stay.

It repositions itself to be maximally pretentious. People I don't know will approach me at art galleries to discuss postmodernism. I know nothing about postmodernism. The hat apparently does.

One size fits all (but only if you appreciate the nuanced symbolism of surrealist film). 100% fur, 100% convinced it's wasted on you. Comes with unsolicited opinions about everything. Will make you insufferable at dinner parties but in a sophisticated way.

Black athletic leggings, high-waisted, moisture-wicking fabric. Also exist in the space between spaces.

I wore them to IKEA once and got lost for three hours. I kept passing the same showroom but the furniture was arranged differently each time. When I finally found the exit, only twenty minutes had passed according to my phone. But my fitness tracker said I'd walked 15 kilometers. IKEA is not 15 kilometers.

Size M. 88% polyester, 12% spandex, 100% uncanny. Machine washable (will come out of a dryer you don't own). Great for yoga, running, or wandering through fluorescent-lit corridors that shouldn't exist. You've definitely worn these before, even though this is the first time.