One cheap coat rack, one questionable backyard meetup, and one identity crisis later

I love a bargain as much as the next person but after this week’s $10 disaster, I’m wondering if Facebook Marketplace is a recycling hub or a social experiment. Columnist Emma Cam explains.

One cheap coat rack, one questionable backyard meetup, and one identity crisis later. Picture: iStock.

I swear Facebook Marketplace is the Wild West. One minute you’re scrolling for a second-hand plant stand, the next you’ve accidentally agreed to meet a stranger behind a shed at dusk to look at… “lightly used” bed slats.

And look, I’m a trusting person. Too trusting one might say. The kind of trusting where you catch yourself walking into a complete stranger’s home thinking, “This is how every true crime podcast starts,” but you keep going because the listing said BARGAIN in all caps.

My latest Marketplace misadventure began with a simple dream: stop throwing my jacket over the back of my office chair like a feral animal.

I love a bargain as much as the next person but after this weeks $10 disaster, I’m wondering if Facebook Marketplace is a recycling hub or a social experiment. Picture: Emma Cam.

Advertised as “NEW” — this item had clearly been around longer than the old woman who lived in a shoe. Picture: Emma Cam.

I wanted a little coat rack so my blazer wouldn’t collect crumbs, hair, and the emotional residue of every interview I’d had that week.

So when a sweet little old woman posted a bunch of coat racks for ten bucks each, with only one left, I thought, Yes. Finally. A sensible adult purchase.

I show up to her house, seriously, sweetest woman alive...and she leads me to the backyard where the coat racks lived.

I say “lived” because these things had clearly been outdoors longer than most retirees in Cairns. That should have been my first clue.

Marketplace chaos was in my DNA early. But really at the end of the day, I love second-hand shopping. I think it’s great for the environment, and I’ll keep doing it. Picture: iStock.

Weathered. Sun-baked. Rusty. Basically the human equivalent of a man who’s tanned himself into leather.

I did not want it. At all, but let me explain friends the thing is: it was $10. I’d spent that in petrol getting there.

And the idea of saying, “Actually no, I don’t want this anymore,” fills me with the same level of dread I get when someone tries to haggle at overseas markets.

I know haggling is normal. I respect the culture.

But I would rather pay quadruple the price than argue with a stranger over fifty cents. Truly. I am weak.

So yes… I bought the sad, sunburnt coat rack.

Emma Cam | Cairns Post. Photo: Johnny Diaz.

I thought, Okay, maybe this is a sign. Maybe this is the start of my the new hobby I’ve been wanting to start for years now — restoring furniture.

Cute, right?

Wrong.

The wheels didn’t roll. The poles fell out one by one like a collapsing game of pick-up sticks and by the time I got it inside my house, I was basically performing emergency surgery, gluing it back together and wrapping the joints in black tape.

But it looked… not awful. I got confident. I hung two tiny coats on it to test the strength.

For a moment a brief, shining moment — it stood tall. I text the girls in the office thrilled with my developments.

Then it collapsed dramatically, like it had fainted from the stress of existing.

I spent more money fixing it than I did buying it, and honestly? I should’ve just gone to Kmart and saved myself the heartbreak.

But noooo. I was trying to “reuse and recycle” and save the planet. Meanwhile, the planet was like, “Babe, not like this.”

And it’s not even the worst Marketplace moment I’ve had. When I first moved to Cairns, I once went to pick up furniture in a very dark, very quiet street.

So dark and so quiet I texted my friend the address with:

“If you don’t hear from me in 30 minutes, this was the last place I was seen.”

Guarantee you dear read, have likely done the same at some point. Why are we risking our lives for a second hand toaster?

And selling is just as chaotic.

Before I moved up here, I sold a desk to a lovely man who showed up on time, paid full price, didn’t haggle and I thought, hooray, it’s going well.

Then as he was leaving my shambles of a room (mid packing) he asked for a photo with me because he “recognised me” from Beauty and the Geek.

“My wife’s a big fan,” he said.

Here I am in a Daily Telegraph photo shoot after winning Season 1 of Beauty and the Geek. My fashion sense back then still cracks me up — what on earth was I wearing? Picture: Supplied.

Jeremy and I still can’t believe we won Season 1 of Beauty and the Geek Australia — even all these years later. Picture: Emma Cam.

Sure, mate. Meanwhile I looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge and was selling furniture like I was mid-divorce.

It’s also the only place on Earth where you can get into full arguments with strangers over who messaged “FIRST” or get ghosted by someone who was meant to pick up a lampshade. WHAT is with the ghosting people, come on!

None of this should surprise me though as my sister and I didn’t exactly master “Stranger Danger” as kids.

One day we decided to set up a roadside business selling — wait for it — ice cubes. In summer.

Not lemonade.

Not snacks.

Just… ice cubes. For 50 cents.

We had a single customer: an individual who pulled over and chatted a little too long and was way too keen on the melting ice cubes. So truly, Marketplace chaos was in my DNA early. But really at the end of the day, I love second-hand shopping. I think it’s great for the environment, and I’ll keep doing it.

But good lord, Marketplace is a wild place. A magical, terrifying, hilarious jungle of bargains and weirdness.

If shopping second-hand builds character, then I am one more coat rack away from being a saint and I know I’m not alone. What’s your wildest Marketplace moment?
Email me at [e-mail] or drop a comment below.

Originally published as One cheap coat rack, one questionable backyard meetup, and one identity crisis later