Tavi Gevinson Writes a Fictional eBay Listing for Prada Heels

ICONIC PRADA SZ 35.5 CHANDELIER RUNWAY SHOE SPRING/SUMMER 2010

$1800 retail value. Worn once. Only selling because it was the worst night of my life but nothing is wrong with the shoes themselves and maybe if I got this out it would cleanse them of any bad energy.

So my stylist Eva came over the night of the Grammys because the shoes I was supposed to wear suddenly looked weird to me. She said these would go with my dress (also Prada, with a picture of a hotel on it) and were old enough to be considered iconic instead of just old. But then once I had them on she kind of paused for a second before saying anything and it made me really insecure. She had been talking about her mom’s cancer so it was probably just that but once she finally said “you look amazing” we just stared at each other because we both knew it was too late, I had already seen her glitch and so now all the other compliments she’d given me seemed fake too.

I stopped thinking about it once my driver and I picked up my little sister Gracie from my parents’ house. She’s 9 so was really excited just to be going, in like such a refreshing way. Also, having her as my date gave me a reason to say hi to people on the red carpet without looking desperate or random. I even took a picture with Ellen Degeneres who said “Now THOSE are some dancin shoes!” so that’s a good reason to buy them too.

But then when I was in the bathroom googling the photos to see if they were ok, this older woman came out of a stall like a bad omen. She had long white hair and a shapeless dress and her hands looked like dying birds under the hand dryer. She started to introduce herself but I acted like I didn’t hear and ran out to find my seat.

Thankfully my categories were being announced early (Best New Artist & Best Female Pop Vocal Performance) but I lost both. I hadn’t been expecting to win and I knew the song I did for Trolls 2 wasn’t exactly a game changer but now I felt like, come on, who else had to sing in the voice of a troll? I started worrying about what this would mean for my character Mirabelle in future installments of the franchise. I imagined the Dreamworks people mapping it out for the next 10 years, lining up all of Poppy’s new troll friends with their own new songs, making Mirabelle dance silently in the background like an extra. Then I tried to not really listen to the Best New Artist’s speech but I did hear her thank everyone “from back home.” I looked over at Gracie, who was on the edge of her seat, and realized I barely ever see her.

The rest of the show was a blur. You couldn’t hear anything because it’s all for TV. The lights and makeup made everyone’s face looked exaggerated and lopsided, like a bunch of Scream masks. When it was over we went straight to In-n-Out to take a photo for Instagram but when we got there we saw like 8 other singers/actresses doing the same thing. I wanted to leave but Gracie was hungry so we got in line. She said she was having the best night of her life. She said “You and Trolls, the two things I love the most!” and started listing all her favorite Trolls moments. She bent over laughing about a part where Mr. Dinkles says “ohhh snap.” She talked about when you learn that Branch can’t sing “because singing killed his grandma” and her eyes welled up with tears. “I would be so sad, not being able to sing. I mean, what if YOU couldn’t sing! Of all people! Can you imagine?” I could. It sounded nice.

I spent the ride home looking at the little rainbows my shoes were casting on the floor. Gracie was across from me, sort of singing to herself, her phone lighting up her face. She looked like a little ghost, like Casper. I wanted to take her hand but I don’t do that kind of thing and it would be weird to start now. Then she started saying how nice everyone was in real life, and I realized that that was making me sad too, that every interaction was dumb and everyone was actually boring. But then I was like, well, who am I to judge? There is nothing interesting about me. I don’t write my own music. I don’t pick out my own clothes. When I’m supposed to tweet relatable things late at night, all I can think of is being unable to fall asleep. When I went on James Corden, a producer named Jed had to make up my anecdote for me. He had to tell me exactly how to say it. If I couldn’t win Best New Artist, I wouldn’t win for anything else, the whole rest of my life.

Gracie slept over. We watched Friends on opposite ends of the couch, sharing a big blanket. It was an episode where their neighbor dies and leaves all his stuff to Monica and Rachel. I decided that if I killed myself right now, I would leave everything to my sister. I don’t have anything that meaningful. I’m 19. But she could get my residuals, royalties, furniture, and Trolls merch. Not the shoes, though, or any of the free clothes. Nothing she could wear. But maybe you want them.