No One Cares About Me Quite Like Poshmark's Notifications
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For a year now, I have been marveling about something very, very weird: The inspirational, cozy, and—quite frankly—strangely intimate push notifications that I receive from the shopping platform Poshmark, which specializes in resale.
I am a devoted Poshmark customer, just like I love yard sales and tag sales and estate sales and really mammoth antique malls. However, Big Aunt Susan’s Antiques Emporium would never expect to form some sort of emotional connection with me, though Big Aunt Susan herself might come to know a bit about my life over the course of regular visits. Poshmark is different. Poshmark seems to want a closer connection with me, Kelly Faircloth, personally. Poshmark is constantly encouraging me to feel better about myself, to take care of myself, to believe in myself. Honestly, I’m just here for the deals?
Poshmark is constantly encouraging me to feel better about myself, to take care of myself, to believe in myself.
I suspect this on the basis of the push notifications I receive from the service essentially every day–all of which are weirdly personal and completely disconnected from my actual shopping. Just now, as I polished off the last of my workday afternoon lunch while glancing through Jezebel Slack, my phone buzzed: “Trust the signs you’ve been getting.” Sorry, what?
My relationship with the app is very simple, straightforward, and transactional. Just recently, after months of idly thinking that I really wanted a denim jacket but refusing to spend the money, I snagged a proper one from Levi’s—the absolute classic!—for a mere $27. (I’m going to look like a lumberjack goddess well into the winter.) My toddler has an entire collection of slightly battered dress-up clothes purchased off Poshmark. I like the deals, and—even more—I like the thrill of the hunt.
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