BLOG: LATEST FROM THE LAUNDRY

I didn't start a business. I simply noticed that some things seem to have more value after they have been worn.

For some time, my friends and I had been discussing the obvious inequality in the second-hand market. Women, it seems, have been given a rather straightforward opportunity to make money from certain personal belongings.

Honestly, it's hardly a business model available to men.

So I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Literally, in a manner of speaking.

I have great love for my girlfriend. I should probably make that very clear. She is wonderful, intelligent and considerably more sensible than I am.

She will, however, almost certainly not think this is a brilliant idea.

That is why I have decided not to tell her about my little side project.

All profits will be reinvested into improving her quality of life. Flowers. Nice dinners. Perhaps the occasional bottle of something she likes.

Who knows? One day I may even tell her about my entrepreneurial adventure.

Or perhaps I will simply retire quietly and take the secret to my grave.

For now, I prefer to think of myself not as a businessman, but as a collector.

It sounds much more respectable.

Every serious venture needs a name.

I decided to call mine Goodbye Pussy.

It is, of course, a parody, or an antonym, if you prefer, of that famous Japanese cat who has spent decades cheerfully saying hello to the world.

Mine is saying goodbye.

There is something oddly satisfying about that.

I also decided early on that the project should appeal to people with an interest in art.

This was partly an aesthetic decision. It was also economics.

I don't expect to have an enormous inventory. In fact, scarcity is rather fundamental to the entire concept.

And when supply is limited, one has to ask the obvious question: what is the appropriate value of a unique or scarce object?

The art world has already answered this question rather convincingly.

So I have chosen to approach the project with the seriousness of a small contemporary art gallery.

And off course - as every art collector knows, scarcity is important.

Each piece is an object.

Each object has a history.

Each object comes with a certificate of authenticity.

Each history is, to some extent, unavailable to the general public.

And each is offered in very limited numbers.

I find this comforting.

It means that what I lack in volume, I can make up for in curation, storytelling and completely unreasonable confidence.

Welcome to Goodbye Pussy.

Please enjoy the exhibition.

I hate coding.

I have always regarded programming as one of those activities that should be left to people who enjoy staring at screens while making noises like “hmm” and “interesting”.

And yet, somehow, I have managed to build a website.

I also seem to have acquired a new friend in the process.

AI. Macaly is his name.

Blood, sweat, tears, and artificial intelligence.

It turns out to be a surprisingly effective symbiosis.

Macaly handles the virtual world.

I handle the parts that, under absolutely no circumstances, can be created, experienced or delivered online.

There are - fortunately - limits to technology.

I have even developed a certain affection for my new digital assistant. I won't marry Macaly, though - I am heterosexual. But... I must admit that Macaly is considerably more responsive and obliging than my girlfriend.

There. I've said it.

Fortunately, Macaly cannot read a room.

Or give me that look.

And there are, of course, certain things that even the most advanced version of Macaly (or hos other friends) cannot do for me.

Some jobs still require a human being.

Preferably one who knows when to keep quiet...

Anyway, the website is live.

Which means that Goodbye Pussy has officially moved from being a questionable idea in my head to being a questionable idea on the internet.

Progress. Big Progress ... HUGE!!!!

The first items went online today.

I wrote the description three times before it finally felt neither too honest nor too coy.

There is a surprisingly narrow line between providing useful information and making things unnecessarily awkward.

The text itself was actually the easy part.

The photographs were another matter entirely.

I had not anticipated that photographing the items without photographing my girlfriend would become a logistical operation of almost military proportions.

I have found myself taking pictures under the table.

While she is brushing her teeth.

While she is lying in bed watching television.

At one point I was holding a camera in one hand and pretending to be doing something completely innocent with the other.

I am beginning to understand why professional photographers have studios.

I had assumed the difficult part of this business would be packing and shipping the orders.

Apparently not.

The real challenge is taking photographs of objects that are perfectly legal to photograph while making absolutely certain that the person who owns them has no idea that a photography session is taking place three metres away.

It is a strange new discipline.

Perhaps I should add it to the art-world credentials: Still Life Photography: Domestic Stealth, 2026.

The first pieces are now online.

I am both excited and slightly terrified.

And, for the first time, I am beginning to suspect that this whole thing might actually be more work than I had originally imagined.

The parcels can wait.

First, I need to survive the photography.