What would you pay for Ottessa Moshfegh’s gently used toothbrush?

A gossip-filled recap of Substack's first-ever auction night.

What would you pay for

Ottessa Moshfegh

’s gently used toothbrush? What about

Eddie Huang

’s pre-loved, Knicks-themed boxer briefs? No, this is not an April Fool’s prank. These are the hard-hitting questions New York’s literati faced on Tuesday night at the private auction of the century or, at the very least, the month. Ottessa and Eddie joined forces to offer readers a chance to bid on some of their finest pieces of junk, with all proceeds going directly to the two writers. The money would be used for “food, rent, and my therapist,” Ottessa clarified.

It was clear from the moment I stepped into The Golden Unicorn elevator that competition would be fierce. “I want Ottessa to prank call my nemesis,” one guest announced. “No one better outbid me. My friend and I are willing to throw a lot of money at it.” When asked if being pranked by this author would be particularly devastating to her enemy, she replied, “He’s so far up his own butt, it won’t mean anything to him.” Sounds like a very expensive and impotent form of revenge, but what do I know?

The no-nonsense attitude underpinning this affair struck me again upon entering the room, where I spotted a woman already seated, in the front row, staring at the stage, with shades on and paddle in hand. She did not come to play.

The dim sum restaurant serving as the auction hall had a bit of a wedding reception vibe, with friend groups clustered around tablecloth-covered tables and a buffet line filled with pork buns and spring rolls. The bartender doled out heavy pours all night; good for loosening wallets, but it proved to be an issue for one partygoer who nonchalantly toppled over twice mid-auction. Guests remained unfazed—just as they were when the fire alarm sounded, or by the constant, ominous tinkling of the chandelier overhead. Nothing would dissuade this crowd from acquiring their chosen lots.

Before the auction began, Ottessa and Eddie discussed why they’d picked certain items and the meaning behind them. In the process, guests learned that the authors have opposite bowel movement issues; that the Goyard leash was for Eddie, not his dog; and that a seven-day ayahuasca trip was a critical component of Ottessa’s writing process for My Year of Rest and Relaxation. She promised additional details about said trip to the winner of the Zoom writing consultation.

But while everyone was excited to be in the presence of two of their favorite writers, the real star of the night was C.K. Swett, a professional auctioneer and a man I immediately picked out of the crowd thanks to his ascot and windowpane plaid suit. Between bids, he regaled us with words of wisdom, like “tequila is the Gatorade of auctions.” By the end of the night, Substack employee Matt Starr said he’d received over 20 texts from attendees proclaiming their love and lust for the passionate salesman. Another fan favorite of the night was Jack—apparently a Substack employee by day—who wore white gloves while displaying the auction items, handling a stack of Whoopi Goldberg VHS tapes with the panache of one of Barker’s Beauties.

An old painting by Ottessa, recently rediscovered in a Bed-Stuy basement, proved to be the most coveted item of the night. After a bidding war that elicited astonished gasps from the audience, it wound up going for a staggering $2,800. Compared to that, the author’s experiential offerings were a steal. Lunch with her at the Russian Tea Room went for $450, cocktails with friends at the Hotel Chelsea was $500, and the Zoom writing consultation — and more importantly, the ayahuasca trip intel — went for $1600. Ottessa and Eddie seemed dazed by the appetite for their items; Otttessa, in particular, could regularly be seen hiding her head in her hands, and those nearby reported hearing her whisper “Stop!” and “Enough!” as prices soared.

It was hard not to get swept up in the excitement of it all. During the sale of the painting, one guy raised his paddle around the $1K mark before realizing what he’d done and canceling his bid. In the heat of the moment, thanks to adrenaline and the sunk cost fallacy, items worth very little in real-term value became must-haves.

The woman from the elevator lost out on the chance to prank call her nemesis, but she did end up winning the night of cocktails with Ottessa for herself and two guests — a far wiser use of funds, in my opinion. Upon winning, she and her friend immediately started brainstorming what they would wear and, of course, what questions they would ask the famed author. Upon realizing that drinks tomorrow would mean rescheduling a first date, the woman texted her prospective lover to ask if they’d join her at The Hotel Chelsea instead, but they immediately declined. A red flag, if you ask me.

While the pair were busily chatting, another woman slipped into the seat beside them, introducing herself as Eunice and inquiring if the winner already had two friends she was planning on taking with her. The winner replied with faux regret that she did, but Eunice persisted. As she entered her Instagram handle into the woman’s phone, Eunice told her, “Well, if they fall through, I would love to go. I can pay you.” The winner seemed taken aback for a moment by the proposition, but it was also clear she was not not interested in cutting a little side deal. Proof that everything in life can be an auction, if you’re willing to make the bid.

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