Entrepreneur

Besides gracing my top ten list for words most likely to be underlined by a red squiggle, it’s also a new adjective I can use to describe myself. Well not just yet, but very soon. As of this Saturday morning I will be a small shop-owner. And by small I mean stall. And by stall I mean 10 cast iron poles, forming the skeleton of a box, beside a few dozen others at a weekend flea market. And my merchandise? The clothes off my back. I take that back, it's actually the opposite. It's all the clothes I don't wear. I’m selling more than half my wardrobe in what I call a ‘clothing detox.’ My reasons are four fold.

Fold 1.
Space. I have too many meaningless shirts, vests and accessories that can only amount to one thing: baggage weight. Pounds I don’t need, which will cost money I don’t have, to even check on a plane home someday. Plus, once I sell the clothes that go in said baggage, I can sell the baggage itself.

Fold 2.
Experience. From the very first day I began going to the weekend feria, I was warmed by the impression the performers and vendors had left on me. Not only did they know each other, but they did this for each other. A social life no nightclub or sorority can ever say they so naturally reproduce, it’s exactly as it appears: street love. And entering that world was something I only comically imagined (in another life sort of way) since I bore witness.

Fold 3.
Pesos. The bottom line of so many built up stories, money rests at the seam of what makes sense. I’m going on what may be the most challenging journey of my young life in a few short weeks, and every last peso to make the travel more traversable, is duly appreciated.

Fold 4.
Español. I need as much practice as possible, and nothing says ‘cuanto cuesta’ like a small business venture. Whether it’s my customers or my entrepreneighbors, I’ll squeeze out every bit of Spanish juice they’ve got to offer. (You have such a dirty mind…)


Maybe I haven’t followed the most orthodox path post-graduation, but in my own tiny way I’m living in a manner I never knew I could. I take smaller steps in a much bigger world. It may not be a boutique on Park Ave or even a storefront in my hometown, but there is a salesman behind a counter with something to offer. In other words, it’s enough for me to believe in.