Shiny, sparkly things: What attracts neurodivergent people to the vintage-selling biz
Collecting is more than a pastime for vintage sellers who experience neurodivergence (ND) — it’s a form of emotional expression, safety and joy. Writer Chelsea Nash, a vintage seller with ND, chats with other resellers about what it’s like to find home in community
Two years into my vintage business, I was diagnosed with ADHD, and it all made sense.
Turns out, being part of a community of vintage resellers and other creatives was an essential part of getting to that diagnosis.
And, it turns out, there was a clinical reason behind my avoidance of certain tasks, like bookkeeping, or organizing the piles of vintage stock I had collected but wasn’t sufficiently interested in to actually clean, fix, price and sell. (We sellers call them “death piles.”)
It’s been my anecdotal experience that a lot of vintage sellers either suspect they are or have been diagnosed as neurodivergent — a term that means their brain processes information differently, commonly used to refer to those with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and/or autism.
Being immersed in a community of literally like-minded people allowed me to see my own experiences reflected back to me in a way I never had before. It was validating, and part of what encouraged me to seek out a diagnosis and medication.
It’s been just eight months since then, but my life has already changed in both dramatic and mundane but meaningful ways.
Vintage biz ‘exactly what I needed’
Karina Fotia (disclosure: Karina organizes markets that I have participated in as a vendor) and Anya Valentine-Pagé share similar experiences.
Karina, 30, was diagnosed with ADHD less than a year after starting her vintage clothing business, Strega Vintage. She ramped up her business around the same time as her diagnosis, which also coincided with the passing of her mother.
“I was dealing with the loss of a parent and a new diagnosis, so I really felt lost in the world, just navigating everything … I found that community and that outlet was exactly what I needed to, not cope, but just like, hone in on something I enjoyed,” she says.
Anya, who is currently 22, wasn’t diagnosed with autism until last year, but they have been selling since 2021 with the support of their mom.
After being diagnosed, Anya — who runs Outfitz.co — started sharing their experiences as an autistic business owner on their social media pages, and has found that being open has led them to connect with more neurodivergent customers.
Both Anya and Karina speak to how their vintage endeavours — a side hustle for each of them, as Anya wraps up their last semester of university, and Karina works a 9-to-5 office job — have been so much more than just a reselling business.
They’ve been outlets for self-expression, a way to share the things that bring them joy, and helped connect them to their communities and themselves.
“Our shops are just a bunch of little pieces of us, and I think that's so fun,” Karina says in an interview at her house.
“I'm not embarrassed at all anymore of what I like and what I think is fun and cool and makes me feel good, because I put [all of that] into this shop, and other people appreciate it.”
Sharing passion as a neurodivergent reseller
To Karina, the diagnosis explained some of the challenges she had faced in life — and affirmed a feeling she had for a long time: that “everyone was on a track,” and she was “a little bit off of it.”
“It’s like [everyone else] knew what they were doing. And I was trying to do that too, but … I just felt like nothing was really fitting,” Karina says.
While Karina has found her passion lies in the macabre, witchy, glittery and weird, Anya’s shop has a childlike quality to it. Both practice curating their shops using their emotions as their primary guide.
“It's the fun, colourful or really weird stuff that just makes me get all giddy, and [gives me] that sense of specifically neurodivergent autistic joy,” Anya says.
“I just create this booth that’s filled with the wackiest, most fun, attention-grabbing stuff for neurodivergent people. They just kind of flock to me, and it’s great because I get to see their reactions when they see this stuff,” they say.
It’s often a similar reaction that Anya has upon originally finding the item, and witnessing that shared connection “makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. It’s the best.”
Vintage selling helps to ‘feel safe’
You don’t have to look too closely to understand why vintage selling attracts neurodivergent people, who often enjoy collecting things, have special interests they enjoy learning about, and love to share that knowledge with others.
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Then there are the dopamine hits. Dopamine dysfunction and deficiency is a big part of neurodivergence.
It’s the brain chemical and hormone related to pleasure and motivation, and it’s why people with ADHD struggle with a set of mental skills including self-control, memory, motivation and focus (also known as “executive function”).
Chasing dopamine is what often leads to impulsive and addictive behaviours in people with ADHD.
Neurodivergent vintage resellers get their dopamine fix at the thrift stores, estate sales and church basements when they find something unique, rare or just personally exciting.
There’s a second thrill that comes when customers share in that joy and are even willing to pay for the things we’ve poured our hearts into collecting. It’s the ultimate validation that the things we are interested in are valuable to other people, and that sense of connection is hugely rewarding.
Neurodivergent people also often go through life hiding or “masking” their neurodivergent traits in an effort to fit into social or professional settings.
You learn to watch those around you closely, picking up on their patterns and social cues in order to temper your own quirks and behaviours — such as oversharing, being too hyperactive or using repeated physical movements or vocalizations, known as “stimming,” — to blend in.
Neurodivergent people are like anyone else insofar as we can turn to fashion to form part of our “mask,” and to use our dress as a tool to fit in, rather than express our individuality.
In creating Strega Vintage, Karina has been able to cast that mask aside, and has helped others do the same. Her specific Elvira-esque aesthetic resonates with her customers, who find that through her, they are able to connect with their own authentic personal style, rather than simply dressing to fit into a trend.
Anya has also found that Outfitz.co helped them peel back the layers of what they’ve been told they should be doing, and embrace who they really are instead.
“I think one huge part about me and learning how to unmask has been to stop hiding the more childish side of me, because I've learned — and my friends would agree — I am very childish. I can be super serious when I need to be, but I really do appreciate the nostalgia from when I was kid. I like getting to relive that as someone who's not masking or not kind of having to follow what I'm supposed to do. It just makes me feel safe,” they say.
Finding the right venues
That feeling of safety is something Karina and Anya work hard to extend to their customers. Whether at markets or on social media, they take pride in being able to create a space where “we’re not the weird ones,” Karina says, because “we all appreciate each other’s weirdness.”
That’s not to say being a neurodivergent business owner is not without its challenges. Karina, as a co-founder of the Ottawa-based Hot Wench Markets, has been able to curate a specific market that aims to be inclusive for all, including neurodivergent customers and sellers.
But there are some markets that Anya chooses to avoid, simply because they’re not accessible to them. Noise can be overwhelming for those with autism, and markets — especially block parties or sidewalk sales — can be incredibly loud.
Anya avoids the markets where they know they will be too overwhelmed by the environment. At other markets, they ask the organizers for accommodations, like placing them away from the speakers, for instance.
Still, not all customers or other vendors understand why they are wearing noise-cancelling headphones at their booth, or why they might be cuddling with their partner as customers browse, confusing what are actually coping mechanisms with rudeness.
“I’ve had people mock my stimming,” says Anya, “and I’ve heard people talk about how I’m weird.”
Anya and Karina say they are both able to connect most authentically with customers at markets that cater to their specific niches — like the Ottawa Mystic Market, for instance, where Karina connects with a witchy customer base that happens to also include neurodivergent and queer folks.
Anya says they recently participated in an Ottawa Pride market, where they felt they were able to be themselves — mask completely off — and were celebrated for that, both by making connections within the community, and by having their best sales day to boot.
“It’s not just about the fashion and the thrifting, as much as I love it. It’s the difference, because it does make a difference. Even if I’m not changing the world, I’m just helping people shine a little brighter,” they say.
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Chelsea Nash is a freelance writer and owner of Curious Times Vintage.
