About the V&V dinosaur 🦕

Recently, I “ordered” a Facebook ad—without even understanding how I did it.

My “order” cost me 83 EUR.
“Well, thank you,” I thought, “but I didn’t actually want to buy anything.”

Turns out, there’s a new social media trick—right after the usual “post” button, a second one pops up. Very similar, almost as if the first one didn’t register.

Your finger automatically taps again—but this time, instead of “post,” it says “boost.”

Which means—you’ve just agreed to advertise. Not for a very small amount, either.

About a month ago, while shopping in an online bookstore, I found not only the books I wanted in my cart—but also a few extra items, supposedly “matching” my order and clearly “necessary.”

My first thought: “Oh, these must be free bookmarks.”

But when I saw they didn’t have zeros next to them—I almost crouched down:

“What?!” I thought.

After removing those unexpected items from my cart, I paused for a moment—maybe I had added them myself?

Turns out—no.
It was just a polite reminder to buy more than just books.

Because, obviously, you won’t be happy with books alone.

That candle that mysteriously climbed into your cart? It would definitely make any book more “interesting.” Right?

If you pause on something eye-catching on social media—
believe me, you’ll be living with it in your sight for a long time.

It will follow you everywhere.

And most likely, it will keep flashing in front of your eyes until it finally catches you in the mood to buy it.

Even if you don’t really need it.

At some point, you were simply convinced that you do.

And then—into this whole “buy, buy, buy” context—suddenly, a dinosaur called “V&V” crawls out of its cave.

Showing. Teasing. Appearing in your feed daily with clothes, shoes, handbags.

And as a rule—the thing that catches your eye? They don’t have it.

“What do you mean you don’t have it?
Then order it!
Make it!
Sew it!”

The dinosaur shakes its head in disapproval.

“But I’ll buy it! I want it! I need it!”

The stubborn dinosaur apologizes—but won’t send it.
Won’t order it.
Won’t make it.

It might put you on a waiting list—one that moves only if someone returns something.

Noble? Maybe. But the chances aren’t always great.

“I can pay more,” someone says to the dinosaur.

But stubborn as an old goat—it doesn’t give in.

“Then why show it every day?”

And that’s when the ancient dinosaur proves—it can speak:

To inspire.
To show those who already own sold-out pieces how to combine them when inspiration runs low.
To teach styling—not only to those who were “born with it,” but also to those who for years started their mornings with “I have nothing to wear.”
To preserve the value of a limited-edition brand.
And to show deep respect to those who already own our pieces.

The goal was never to dress everyone.
It isn’t.
And it never will be.

In 15 years, we’ve experienced everything.

Doors slammed louder than necessary.
Eye-rolls strong enough to feel.
Not-so-pretty messages.
Advice “not to take ourselves too seriously.”

We can count.

We know that if we let go of this stubbornness and produced every “shortage,” we could proudly show much prettier numbers in our profit line.

Maybe we could even apply the multiplication table by two.

But no.

That dinosaur crawls back into its small cave.
Scolded. Corrected.
A bit out of touch with modern commerce and its rules.

But without promising to “improve.”

While everything around screams “buy!”
And even builds your cart for you so you don’t have to think—
the dinosaur remains an “old goat”—

not pushing, not chasing, not forcing anything on you.

And today, from the outside, that often looks strange.

Very strange.

To some.

But not to everyone.

If you’re reading this long, sprawling text and smiling—
it means you are “THAT different one.”

The one who has tamed this stubborn old dinosaur.

So now tell me—
you smiled, didn’t you?

Mua,
V.