Who Wants A Birkin?
DoD Ep. 21: That Time I Tried Selling My Birkin To Pay My Legal Bills
My Hermès Birkin—a 35 gold Togo with gold hardware—was my push present for my first-born. She’s a teenager now and will most definitely beg to borrow/steal it in a few years.
My Birkin infatuation started way back in college; it took many years post-graduation to get my first (and only). There’s an apocryphal story that I broke up with a boyfriend after a weird Friendsgiving in LA because he:
A) Was flirting with the host’s 15yo goth daughter
B) In the course of said flirting, he vigorously agreed with a clueless teenager that paying $5000 for a Birkin bag was ridiculous.1 The blasphemy of this was overshadowed by his hypocrisy—we’d spent the previous 3 days looking at Rolex watches he wanted to buy. Joke’s on him. He’s a forever bachelor and ROI’s on Birkins are better than Rolexes.
I’m thinking about Birkins because my newsfeed has been littered with some fascinating articles about this decade’s Birkin frenzy, fueled by more-is-more influencers and all the nouveau riche people who sadly aren’t me. This has led to high-end home break-ins and a maybe class-action lawsuit (in California, bien sûr) defending the rights of the hoi-polloi to squander their disposable income on a handcrafted leather bag.
You see, not just anyone-who-can-afford-it can purchase a Birkin. They’re not on display at Hermès stores with stock in the back. It’s guesstimated that only 12,000 new Birkins are made each year.
If you’ve ever stopped by an Hermès boutique, whether your sales associate is nice or snooty (I’ve had both), you won’t get a “oui” when you ask if there are any Birkins available. I actually did this when I went to the Rive Gauche flagship after it opened in 2010. I still remember the saleswoman (blond, 50s, glasses, Hermès scarf around her neck) looking amused but not unkind, “I don’t have any today, but come back and see me often. We may get some soon.”
I did NOT go back to see her often, but I now know what she meant.
According to Hermès fans (and the lawsuit), you first need to establish a relationship with your sales associate, purchase several other Hermès goods2, make it clear you want a Birkin and if you’re very lucky, you may be offered one of the 12,000 bags—twice a year, at most. You get no choice of color, material or style. It’s a take it or leave it proposition. It also might be a Kelly—not a Birkin. Which, Kellys are not my bag (har-har), since I’m more of a boho Jane Birkin than a plain-ol’ hoe Princess Grace Kelly.
If you happen to be in Paris, you can try to make a leather goods appointment at one of their stores and plead your case for why you should be allowed to spend $10k to $100k+ on a Birkin. FYI: Your chances of getting an appointment are lower than your chances of getting into Harvard undergrad.
So yeah, this Birkin shit has gotten even crazier since my college years.
Birkin For Sale
We all just celebrated Mother’s Day. One thing you can say about most moms is we will fight to the death and spend every last penny for our children. Being dragged through the Family Court circus means shelling out a lot of peanuts. Everyone who reads the NYTimes knows I’m about a half-a-million in the hole from my 7-year divorce and custody battle. All those Birkins I could have bought!
Four-and-a-half years ago, I already knew it was going to be a long and expensive battle. Since I’m not a jewelry, wine or art collector, I have few things I can sell for cash, but I did have my Birkin.3
In 2019, I posted on Facebook that I would sell this bag I’d coveted for half my life, my gift for the 72-hour labor I endured to bring my daughter into this world. By this point, my divorce had already been so ugly for so long that I didn’t want any artifacts of happier times in my marriage.
This was pre-influencer influx days—or else my Facebook friends aren’t interested in French luxury leather goods. One friend who already had a gorgeous olive green Birkin did inquire, but I couldn’t bring myself to quote a price. I just didn’t know what to sell it for back then. Or if I really wanted to.
As the years surged on and my legal bills became more onerous, I planned again to sell my Birkin. I haven’t used the bag in years, just like Beyoncé:
“This Telfar bag imported, Birkins, them shits in storage”4
Unlike Beyoncé, I didn’t put my Birkin in storage due to an overabundance of haute couture but because it felt absurd to be carrying a purse that costs as much as a used car—while I was sweating over the minimum payments on my maxed-out credit cards.
It’s a cruel fact, but divorce hits women a lot harder financially. Studies show “women experience a 20% decline in income and standard of living as well as a 27% increase in the risk of poverty.”
Men, meanwhile, get to enjoy an average 30% increase in their household income and standard of living after divorce. Dicks.
There’s a gender wage gap and a divorce gap. Patriarchy sucks.
I’m not a good reseller. I have boxes full of shoes, clothes and handbags from my previous lives that I should probably sell, but it’s either laziness or some hoarder gene that keeps me from reaching out to The RealReal.
It’s also because in my moves from New York to Paris to Los Angeles, I sold or gave away loads of designer things and I still have some regrets. My biggest: The Rei Kawakubo Comme des Garçons iconic Bump (or Tumor) dress that I owned in red and wore to work and family dinners. I was “fashun” back then.
When I told a relative (who I won’t call out here)5 that the dress was a piece of fashion history I was reluctant to sell, she replied, “Well, is your closet going to be a fashion museum? Just sell it!” I did (for $99) and instantly kicked myself. I just looked the dress up and a black version is currently on sale for… $30,000! That’s a better return than the Birkin!
I am a fool.
Despite asking a few wealthy people I know if they or their friends were in the market for a Birkin, I admittedly dragged my feet about selling it because fashion regrets are worse than dating regrets. The Birkin sits in its dust bag, waiting for me to make a move—or my daughter to.
This is where I let you all know my divorce is finally winding down and I don’t have to choose between selling my Birkin and eating instant ramen for the rest of my life.6
I did get this advice from a supermodel: “Sell the Birkin, get a mommy makeover, meet a rich man, get a new Birkin.”
A sound formula… for a supermodel.
What do you think? Keep the Birkin? Sell the Birkin? Mommy makeover?
Tell me in the comments!
Birkins *only* cost $5K back then; can you imagine?!
This evil business tactic is called “tying.”
Why financial planning is so very important at every stage of life—so you’re not forced to pawn heirloom jewelry to pay your divorce lawyer.
Song is Summer Renaissance.
I have one sister.
God, I love instant ramen.
Yes, on VestiaireCollective, but I think for Birkins there are specialty sites.
I love your posts. I think you should sell the Birkin but only at a really good price so it’s worth it. I just sold a Vuitton limited edition tote that I had never used once in 4 years and that I had to admit to myself I got because it was purty but it wasn’t me in the end in terms of carrying it around. At least I made a profit.
And most definitely big congrats on your divorce finally winding down (and happy Mother’s day with your babies!) !!