There is a common misconception that running a business requires a hyper-competitive, zero-sum mindset. I disagree.
I do not need to win every auction item I bid on, nor do I need to buy every single piece I love. I am entirely content to recognise value, celebrate market activity, and allow fellow entrepreneurs to capitalise on opportunities.
Over the past two years of building my independent brand, I have become a recognised fixture at local trade events and markets. Resellers and suppliers recognise me from a distance. They wave me over, eager to show me what they have brought to their tables because they know I understand quality, and they appreciate that my purchasing contributes to their daily bread and butter.
In turn, their stock is vital to my catalogue. This is a mutually beneficial commercial ecosystem.
Each participant brings distinct value: sourcing inventory, identifying potential, matching supply with niche demand, and earning a living along the way.
When I say, “I see you, reseller,” it is an acknowledgement of our shared professional journey. We are navigating the same challenging economy. There should always be room to recognise, respect, and validate that drive in one another.
The work behind the work
When people discover the Shift2ThriftVintage digital storefront for the first time, many assume they are looking at a business managed by an agency or a team of specialists. The user experience, detailed cataloguing, integrated payment gateways, and coordinated courier arrangements give the impression of a professionally outsourced operation.
The reality is entirely different. This business is built and managed by a sole operator.
Every listing, every search engine optimisation choice, every negotiation, every product shoot, and every logistics arrangement is managed by me. This is an operation fuelled by 18-hour days, sharp analytical discipline, and three cups of black coffee between midnight and four in the morning.
Maintaining this level of execution while showing up as a dedicated partner, a home manager, and a hands-on mother raising my granddaughter requires more than standard time management. It requires an unyielding commitment to operational precision.
If I possessed a duplicate of myself to share this administrative workload, the listing output would scale overnight. Yet, even within a single 24-hour cycle, the sheer volume of work I deliver independently is immense.
It is a massive logistical challenge to keep every moving part flowing, but I do not compromise on standards. When you build an independent empire from the ground up, you do not simply wait for a seat at the table. You build a foundation that earns respect through execution. I have earned every single inch of mine.
That work is also why boundaries around value matter.
I recently received a message on one of my e-commerce platforms from an individual asking me to part with a listed item at a mere 30% of my asking price, citing their status as a fellow reseller who also needed to make a profit.
Let me be unequivocally clear: while I respect the necessity of preserving a margin, another market participant’s desire for profit does not automatically entitle them to absorb my business’s earned margin.
This individual had previously used appeals to personal hardship to negotiate substantial reductions on high-quality pieces. When repeated contact across multiple sales channels became persistent and unwelcome, I ended the relationship and blocked further contact through the available platform controls.
There is an audacious commercial cheek in expecting an independent curator to finance your business model. Sourcing vintage is where the journey begins. What I sell is curation.
If someone wishes to acquire pieces at a fraction of my asking price, they must personally assume the capital risk, navigate the auction houses, search the charity shops, and walk the markets themselves.
This misunderstanding occurs from both directions. A supplier may look at my published retail prices and decide that their asking price should rise accordingly. But my catalogue price is not a measure of effortless profit, nor is it a promise that another piece will achieve the same result. It reflects the work completed after acquisition and the risk I continue to carry until a buyer is found.
When my finished prices become a reason to charge me more, while the labour and costs behind them are disregarded, the sourcing relationship stops making commercial sense. I respect a trader’s right to set their price. I also reserve the right to stop buying from them. Supporting another reseller does not require me to continue a relationship in which I feel my work is being used against me.
If you are convinced that an object holds a premium value and that the revenue will follow effortlessly, then undertake the work. Perform the historical research, capture the photography, construct the descriptions, and list it on your own platform of choice.
Supporting fellow resellers is an intentional pillar of my purchasing strategy, but basic commercial respect is a non-negotiable prerequisite.
When I buy a piece from another trader, I sometimes describe it as “buying their debt.” That is a metaphor, not a literal transfer of their financial obligations. I am releasing their cash from unsold stock, clearing their shelf space, and injecting immediate funds into their operation. In return, I take on the holding costs and the uncertainty of finding the eventual buyer.
The very least we can offer one another is professional respect for that exchange.
The margin between procurement and the final sale is the hard-earned yield of specialised labour, not effortless profit. The eventual price reflects historical research, cleaning or appropriate restoration where needed, documentation, photography, copywriting, inventory carrying costs, capital risk, and the hours spent locating the specific collector who values the piece.
The business must also absorb the cost of capital tied up in inventory that may remain on the shelves for months before the right buyer materialises.
I entirely respect a vendor’s right to establish their asking price. Concurrently, I exercise my right to determine whether that price supports my business.
If the figures align, the transaction concludes smoothly. If an exceptional piece lacks the necessary margin to sustain my operation, I step back without aggressive negotiation, without disparaging the object, and without implying that the vendor’s valuation is incorrect.
A premium piece at a fair price can simply be a purchase that does not fit my current business requirements. Both realities can coexist perfectly.
The collector’s corner
Week after week, I find myself completely gobsmacked by the calibre of treasures I uncover. I am profoundly grateful for the eye for curation I have developed and continue to sharpen.
When I assess and bid on a piece, that initial judgement gives me a starting point. On the occasions when an acquisition carries an unexpected flaw, I categorise the loss as “school fees”: a cost of learning that improves the next decision.
My business model contains a firm principle: I do not acquire exceptional pieces with the intention of rushing them into a quick liquidation. When I buy a treasure, I protect it. I hold it securely until I can dedicate the focused hours required to research its background and uncover the history that tells its story.
This approach was highlighted last week when another reseller and I found ourselves bidding against each other for the same piece at an auction.
The bidding was intense. When the price exceeded my predetermined margin threshold, I stopped. I protect my cash flow fiercely. She secured the item.
During collection, we discussed her intended strategy. She mentioned an anticipated resale price of R600.00. Based on my preliminary pre-auction review, I told her that I would initially have considered an asking price of around R1,200.00
A preliminary auction assessment is not the same as a completed valuation. It helps me decide whether to bid and how much risk to take. The fuller picture often emerges only after hours of research into the maker, provenance, rarity, condition, and comparable examples.
She then explained that, because the base had a minor structural imperfection, she intended to sever it entirely and apply a uniform spray-paint finish to obscure the damage.
From a curation standpoint, the prospect was heart-breaking. We were discussing an irreversible alteration to a historical treasure!
My deeper research subsequently informed an estimated collector value of up to R3,500.00 for an intact example. That was an assessment, not a guaranteed sale price, but it gave us a compelling reason to reconsider a destructive alteration.
I had photographed the piece before the auction. I pulled out my phone, shared my findings, highlighted the maker’s signature and provenance marks, and encouraged her to preserve its original structure.
In our subsequent correspondence, I suggested an asking price of around R2,500.00, allowing for the damage while keeping the piece original. I also offered to help with professional cataloguing and digital placement. She has not taken me up on that offer and I respect her choices.
She outbid me on the floor, but that did not make her an adversary.
Ownership is not a prerequisite for stewardship.
I do not need to hold a piece in my own inventory to care about the preservation of its historical narrative. Nor do I require another professional’s margin to diminish simply because I chose not to match their bid.
When examining an antique or vintage treasure, my focus extends beyond an object ready for resale. I look for hallmarks, manufacturing inscriptions, and provenance clues that tell a broader story.
Curation requires an analytical eye. My business is built on presenting that historical narrative alongside the physical object. Irreversible alterations can remove the very features a collector values. Wear and damage should be documented honestly, rather than concealed, so that the buyer can understand the piece’s condition and history.
That is also why my recent finds do not immediately become new listings. Bringing a piece home is the beginning of the work, not its completion. My preliminary assessment guides the purchase; deeper research helps establish what I can responsibly say about its maker, age, origin, condition, and significance.
Some pieces reveal their story quickly. Others require hours of investigation, careful comparison, and a willingness to leave questions open rather than fill the gaps with assumptions. I give that work the time it needs before photographing, documenting, and presenting the piece in the catalogue.
The time between finding and listing is not inactivity. It is where much of the curation happens.
That same research-led approach informs Request a Treasure. If you are searching for a particular piece, the sourcing enquiry is the starting point for understanding what you want and what makes it meaningful to you.
The human bit
I look around the auction floors and markets and see many fellow resellers. Over time, I have come to know them as colleagues, though as professional associates rather than necessarily personal friends. Even during my extensive corporate career, a professional boundary served me well.
Yet, despite that distance, I genuinely love helping people reach their potential. Perhaps I should establish a formal consulting fee for this service, because sharing practical knowledge is such an intrinsic part of who I am.
Much of my life has been spent in environments where I had to fight, execute, and prove my worth to be considered for a role, a raise, or an opportunity. Having ranked within the top 1% of a major organisation, among fewer than 15 out of 1,500 employees, I understand the discipline required to deliver measurable value.
That continuous battle became part of my character. Because I survived that corporate forge, I try to use my experience to help others recognise their own worth. I openly share the practical tips, pricing strategies, and workflow adjustments that have worked for my enterprise so that they can improve theirs.
Some colleagues welcome that help; others prefer their own approach. Either way, my standards remain the same: kind, professional, and consistently helpful.
You can never fully know the silent hardships, pressures, or personal crises another individual is navigating. A sentence of encouragement or a freely shared piece of practical advice can help someone see a route forward that they had not considered.
I believe that contributing knowledge to our commercial community has value beyond a direct, transactional exchange. It is a standard of personal conduct.
Sharing that knowledge is my choice. It does not mean I must accept unsuitable terms, agree to unequal swaps, or enter transactions at the expense of my own business. There is room for both genuine generosity and a sensible commercial decision in the same conversation.
This balance was illustrated last week through an enquiry from a reseller in the United States about a curated piece priced at R2,200.00. The buyer accepted the asking price and was prepared to proceed. However, the international shipping quote came to R5,500.00.
The proposed arrangement would have required me to advance that freight cost while waiting for reimbursement after delivery confirmation. I could accommodate waiting for the R2,200.00 product payment to clear, but I could not responsibly commit a further R5,500.00 of operating capital to the shipment under those terms.
Two people can share genuine enthusiasm for a transaction while the financial and logistical realities make it unworkable. That does not mean either party is unreasonable. A viable sale requires sound mechanics, not just mutual intent.
Despite the limitation, the enquiry was meaningful. A reseller overseas recognised the value of my curation. I can appreciate that recognition without exposing my operating cash flow to an unsuitable level of risk.
Recognition matters in another part of this work, too: the customer experiences that become the public record.
Not every successful transaction results in a review. Many customers enjoy their purchases quietly, leaving only part of a business’s track record visible to the next prospective buyer. Changes to a platform’s review system can also leave gaps in that history.
As of October 2026, my Yaga record stands at 925 lifetime sales, with a 5.0-star rating across 99 reviews. Those reviews cover only the four months since the platform introduced its review system, rather than my full selling history. On Bob Shop, my displayed record shows a 100% positive rating across 95 lifetime transactions.
A recent review count cannot tell the whole story of years of work, careful packaging, communication, and successful dispatches.
This gap is why I recently created a centralised Customer Feedback Archive, accessible through the main website menu. It brings together customer feedback from Shopify, Bob Shop, and Yaga, making my business less dependent on any single platform to tell its story.
I do ask buyers to share their feedback, and those requests often go unanswered. The absence of a public review is not evidence of dissatisfaction; it simply leaves that customer’s experience unrecorded. My gratitude for their support does not depend on whether they choose to write one.
But preserving the feedback customers choose to share gives future visitors a clearer view of the care behind this business. It allows their experiences to speak alongside my own promises.
This Week’s Lesson
Respect does not require a discount, and generosity does not require abandoning your margin.
This perspective is not a critique of the reselling sector. I buy from fellow resellers, discuss market trends alongside them, compete on the auction floor, and regularly share practical knowledge within my network. We are interdependent links in a supply chain that supports livelihoods and local economic activity.
Mutual respect is our most valuable currency.
I can respect your enterprise without acquiring your stock. You can recognise my work without becoming a customer. We can decline terms, negotiate counter-offers, step back from bids, or acknowledge that logistics make a proposed sale unworkable, all while maintaining professional courtesy.
I can pay a peer’s fair asking price when it supports my business strategy, exit a negotiation courteously when it does not, and share specialised insights to elevate the broader market.
Another company’s success does not have to equal my loss. I am happy to acknowledge that we both need room to earn a living.
True industry leadership is demonstrated when competitors can step off the auction floor, look at an exceptional piece together, and collaborate on how best to preserve its value and historical story.
That is the standard of enterprise I am building: clear on my value, respectful of yours, and committed to professional excellence at every stage of the journey.
I see you, reseller. I invite you to see me, too.
If this perspective resonates with you, subscribe to the Shift2ThriftVintage newsletter or connect with me on LinkedIn. If you are searching for a particular piece, Request a Treasure is open for sourcing enquiries.
— Ina Lubbe, Purveyor of Vintage Treasure
Shift2ThriftVintage • Est. 2024 • Curated Vintage, South Africa • shift2thriftvintage.co.za
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