Tufnell Park Yard Sale has become one of my favourite events of the year, and this year didn’t disappoint.
There was homemade pizza. Flapjacks. Cookies. I even saw someone selling a front door.
Honestly, you can find almost anything here.
I love seeing kids selling their own things too. From toys they’ve grown out of, things they’ve made, food they’ve decided to try their hand at selling for the afternoon.
And then there’s the way everyone seems to know what’s happening beyond their own patch. You’ll stop at one house, see something you like, and someone will tell you, “Try the house around the corner.”
Get a little lost and somebody will point you in the right direction, usually with some extra information about what you might find when you get there.
This was my second year going.
And this time, I had to meet the person behind it all.
Her name is Tessa Wire. We had a chat on her street during this year’s sale, and I wanted to know how something that now takes over 14 streets started in the first place.
Tessa Wire
How did a yard sale on one street turn into 14 streets?
Fifteen years ago, Tessa’s children were little and growing out of everything, including their toys. She wanted to have a yard sale, but there was a problem.
“I knew down a side road nobody would go past.”
She’d seen garage sales on trips to America and thought that if a few neighbours did one together, they might have a better chance of getting people to come. So they started with their street.
Over time, more streets began asking if they could join.
This year, the sale spread across 14 streets, with more than 100 homes signed up.
Does the woman behind 100 stalls actually get to buy anything?
I had to ask this. Surely after 15 years of yard sales, Tessa must have found something worth bringing home.
Not really.
There are around 100 stalls and only three hours to get around them. Tessa has done the maths.
That’s 1.8 minutes per stall.
So she gets on her bike, whizzes around, says hello, takes a photo and moves on.
Her rule is simple: don’t buy anything.
“The yard sale for us was to get rid of stuff, not to bring stuff in.”
But there is one exception.
A family on Yerbury Road has an allotment and puts out vegetables. Tessa goes past at the beginning, asks them to save her what she wants, and picks it up once she’s finished doing the rounds.
Apples. Butternut squash. Chard.
In previous years, when Tessa’s family had their own stall, they had another little tradition. They’d use the takings to get a takeaway afterwards.
“That was our reward at the end.”
Is the yard sale really about selling stuff?
Well on paper, yes.
People put things outside their homes, someone else buys them, and everyone goes home a little lighter or with something they didn’t arrive with. But Tessa describes it as “so much more than the sum of its parts”.
“Everyone’s out, and everyone’s saying hello to each other.”
There’s a little ecosystem to it. Some people sell because they want to make a few pounds. Others do it for reuse or environmental reasons. Lots of people raise money for charity.
And Tessa likes the fact that something one person has finished with doesn’t necessarily lose its value. It gets passed on to somebody else.
“We want that value to continue,” she told me. She likes seeing things “churned in the neighbourhood”.
That probably explains something I noticed while walking around too. You’ll see someone walking past with something you like, ask where they got it, and they’ll point you towards a house around the corner.
The buying and selling keeps people moving through the streets. But the most interesting part of my conversation with Tessa came when I asked her how important it was to actually know your neighbours.
She’s lived in the area for more than 35 years and in her current house for more than 25. When she first moved there, before even having children, she told me she “didn’t know what community was really”.
She described a very familiar London routine: you get up, go to work, come home in the evening and barely see the people living around you. Then her children started school locally.
“I accidentally discovered this whole community.”
While we were talking, she pointed out someone nearby who had taught her kids. These days, Tessa says that now she can’t really walk around the neighbourhood without bumping into somebody she knows.
“I didn’t know that thing existed,” she told me, “and I’m so glad it does.”
Maybe that’s why her answer to people who say there’s a generation growing up without community, the answer is so simple.
“Have a yard sale.”
And she doesn’t necessarily mean everyone has to have something to sell. Tessa encourages people to put chairs outside, have a glass of wine or a cup of tea, and talk to whoever comes past.
“You just get to know your neighbours.”
Why do people keep coming back every year?
Tessa calls the yard sale her favourite event too. She sees people she hasn’t seen for ages. Everyone comes outside. People say hello.
“It just gives you this warm and fuzzy feeling about your community that you live in,” she told me.
And people really do come back.
Around 70 or 80 sellers return each year, with roughly another 30 joining for the first time. Tessa has one email for the regulars thanks for signing up again and another welcoming people doing it for the first time.
By July, people are already asking her:
“Is the yard sale happening? Is the yard sale happening?”
She says it has become part of the tradition of the area. Some people tell her it’s their favourite thing of the year. Tessa has also made a few decisions over the years that help keep it feeling like a neighbourhood yard sale rather than a market.
One of them is money. It’s free for residents to take part.
She organises the whole thing in her own time, around her job, and told me she had seen other yard sales charge people to be added to the map. She didn’t want to do that.
“I didn’t want anybody to not do it because of money. Even if it was only, like, £2.50.”
That £2.50 stuck with me. It would be easy to dismiss such a small amount. Tessa didn’t. And there’s something almost contagious about seeing the people around you take part.
As she put it:
“If you see your neighbours doing it, then you do it.”
Could another North London street do the same thing?
You don’t have to start with 100 houses.
“Start small, like me, do a street,” Tessa says.
When she began, she leafleted her own street. This was before WhatsApp groups. As the sale grew, she leafleted further out. These days she has a mailing list and uses free ways of getting the word out.
But starting small doesn’t mean ignoring the practical stuff.
Tessa is quite strict about the rules. She makes sure pavements are kept clear enough for wheelchairs and buggies to get through, and that sellers know they can’t sell anything illegal. She also told me she registered the Tufnell Park Yard Sale with the police as a static event.
“Get together with a couple of friends and do a few in your street.”
Platforms like eBay and Facebook Marketplace are built for transactions.
A yard sale helps create connections.
The neighbour who puts a chair outside even when they’re not selling anything. The kids having a go at selling something they’ve made. The person who tells you where they found what they’re carrying and points you towards the house around the corner.
The transaction might be what gets everyone outside. But it isn’t the thing that keeps them coming back.
Fifteen years ago, Tessa started with a few neighbours on one street.
That still feels like the best place to start.
Want to see it for yourself? Find future dates and details on the Tufnell Park Yard Sale website
THANKS FOR READING!
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