It was a typical Friday afternoon. I was
faffing around on the Internet working hard when I came across a website where you can buy old props and costumes from the movies.
I was checking out signed scripts from Ghostbusters when I noticed it. A sidebar ad, advertising a special auction of props and costumes from the Twilight movie. An auction of actual Twilight movie memorabilia?
I clicked. You know, just to have a look.
I’ll confess to loving a bit of Twilight. I read the books. And watched all the movies. Even the ones that were SUPER bad. I was intrigued to see what they’re selling. The answer is – they were selling everything that wasn’t nailed down.
It was hilarious.
You would not BELIEVE some of the Twilight HISTORY that you could buy at this auction. Sure there were costumes from key characters, and major props like engagement rings, wall art and the like. But some of the stuff? Was completely random.
I’m still concerned about the person who paid $1600 for Bella’s bedding. And I’m frankly scared at the idea that someone paid $700 for Edwards’s shirt that he wore while delivering his own baby (complete with blood stains). Other highlights included Mike Newton’s high school diploma? ($250). How about three movie tickets for Face Punch, the fake movie that Bella saw on her date with Mike ($1000. EACH).
You could even buy the furniture from most of the film’s houses. I mean, there have to be easier ways to buy a wardrobe.
Flea and I had an hour to kill between a hockey match and a coaching session on Friday afternoon. We sat in a coffee shop, and I was showing her the Twilight memorabilia auction. We wondered what the cheapest item was to buy.
“Let’s find the cheapest thing there is, and buy it,” said Flea.
“We could but there’s three hours left to go,” I said. “Loads of people bid at the very last-minute for these sort of things.”
I thought about it for about, ooh, two seconds.
We decided to bid on something. Just for a laugh.
The cheapest item in the auction at that point was a set of three candlestick holders from Edward and Bella’s wedding table. They were currently at $150. The minimum bid was $200.
“Let’s do it.”
Bid placed, we headed back to hockey.
A few hours later, I was about to go to bed when I realised the auction was probably closed. I loaded up the website and realised there was 40 minutes left. And at $200 I was still the high bidder.
At this point, it occurred to us both that we might actually end up buying the candlesticks. Just in case, I clicked on the “get a shipping estimate” button. “I bet it’s going to cost like a hundred dollars,” I joked to Flea.
The shipping cost wasn’t $100.
Nope. Actually, in the event I actually ended up buying these three candlesticks it would cost me FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS to ship them to the UK.
How could it possibly be so expensive? I buy stuff from the US all the time and I’ve never paid anything like that for shipping. I looked a bit more closely at the photo of the candlesticks.
I thought they were 20 centimetres tall. Nope. 20 inches. 20. Sodding. Inches.
They’re gigantic bloody table centerpieces.
The way these auction sites work is that a) you provide your credit card number upfront; and b) you can’t withdraw a bid.
It’s fine. Somebody else will bid. Somebody else is bound to bid. They have to bid. Right?
Half an hour later I’m in bed, watching the clock count down on the Twilight memorabilia auction. Two minutes to go, and I’m still the high bidder. 90 seconds. 65 seconds.
64 seconds before the auction ended, a message flashed up: “You have been outbid.”
Honestly, I can’t rationally explain what happened next. You know that scene in Twilight where Edward explains what happens when a vampire tastes blood? It was a bit like that: “A sort of frenzy begins and it’s almost impossible to stop”
Suffice to say, I’ve learned two things about myself this weekend:
- I have a problem with competitiveness.
- I can never, ever be allowed near an Internet auction again.
As I watched the clock counting down the last 30 seconds of the auction, a little voice in my head shouted, “I DON’T THINK SO, MOFO.”
I added another bid.
“Congratulations, you have won this lot!”
Oh Dear God, what have I done?
The downside of this situation is that I now have to pay a quite frankly ludicrous amount of money to ship three enormous candlestick holders across the Atlantic.
The upside is that Flea’s wedding (and she HAS to have one now, I don’t care who it’s to) is going to have a SUPER unique table centrepiece. Then at least I’ll know I got my money’s worth.