In my L.A. Buy Nothing group, I started noticing how some objects, given for free from neighbor to neighbor, carry emotional weight. An item was more than it appeared. It was a piece of personal history, perhaps one with generational memories.

From one person’s hands to another’s, objects find new life through the free gift economy on Facebook or the Buy Nothing app. Buy Nothing Project, a public benefit corporation, reports having 14 million members across more than 50 countries who give away 2.6 million items a month. There are more than 100 groups in Los Angeles alone.

Buy Nothing reduces waste by keeping items out of landfills. It also builds community. When our lives are increasingly online, Buy Nothing encourages us to get out of our cars and make connections with neighbors, even if the interaction is no more than a wave when picking something up left by a doorstep. Researchers have found that even small social interactions can foster a sense of belonging.

Still, Buy Nothing has its challenges. For years, some have complained that the groups shouldn’t be limited to neighborhoods, but rather have more open borders. Last year, many longtime members complained about the project enforcing its trademark, leading Facebook to shut down unregistered groups even if they were serving people under economic strain. Critics saw the tattling as a shift from mutual aid toward control and branding. For its part, Buy Nothing says its decisions are based on building community, trust and safety.

Despite those disagreements, Buy Nothing offers a platform for special connections. As much as there are jokes about people offering half-eaten cake, many have passed along treasured items. Buy Nothing items may feel too valuable for the trash or too personal for Goodwill. The interaction between giver and receiver becomes just as meaningful as the object itself.

I set out to document these quiet exchanges in my Buy Nothing group, drawn to the question of why people choose to pass their belongings from one neighbor to another.

Tiny builders, big exchange

Lidia Butcher gives a toolbox and worktable her two sons used to Chelsea Ward for her 17-month-old son.

“We’ve had the toolbox and worktable for the last 10 years, it’s been very special. When I told my youngest son we were going to give it away, he was a little sad. He said he was still playing with it, but then I explained that it’s been sitting untouched for a year and that if we gave it to someone else, maybe someone else would be happy about it. So he felt joy about giving it to another child who would want to play with it. I have this little emotional feeling letting it go, but at the same time, it’s a good feeling. Like a new beginning.”

— Lidia Butcher, 35, joined the group several years ago when someone told her a person in the group once asked for a cup of sugar.

“We’re getting a worktable. Benji is now old enough to be interested in playing with tools. I’m going to move my drafting table out of his room. His bedroom is my office. So that will go into storage or the Buy Nothing group and the worktable will go in its place. We live in an apartment, and as he’s growing, his needs change but our space doesn’t. Buy Nothing is really helpful to be able to cycle out of stuff.”

— Chelsea Ward, 38, has found the Buy Nothing group extremely helpful since becoming a mom.

Something borrowed

Abby Rodriguez lends Sophie Janinet a veil for her wedding.

“Sophie had asked for a wedding veil on our Buy Nothing group and I’m lending it to her because I wanted it to have a second life. I hate the idea that precious things just sit there and never get touched. My wedding day was one of the best days of my life. At one point the power went out and now we have this amazing picture with my husband and I and everyone using their phone to light up the dance floor.”

— Abby Rodriguez, 40, discovered Buy Nothing when she moved to her northeast L.A. neighborhood in 2020.

“I moved to Los Angeles from France four years ago. The day I joined Buy Nothing was the first time I felt connected to the community. It played a huge role in my adapting to life here. I’m receiving a veil because I want my wedding to look and feel like my values. I thrifted my dress, I chose a local seamstress to alter the dress but when I tried it on, I felt something was missing. I wanted a veil but I didn’t want to buy new because I didn’t want to add anything to the landfill. So I posted a request for the veil on Buy Nothing.”

— Sophie Janinet, 37, is recreating the low-waste, slower-paced values she once lived by in France through her local Buy Nothing community.

A pigeon-spooking owl gets a second life

Michele Sawers gives Beth Penn a decorative owl.

“Coming from a place of luck, now I have plenty to give. The owl has been with me for 26 years. I bought the owl soon after I bought this house. The owl was purchased because I had a pigeon problem, they would camp out under my eves and I would have bird poop everywhere. The owl must have worked because they’re gone and they haven’t come back.”

— Michele Sawers, 58, uses Buy Nothing regularly to connect with her community and support her low-consumption values.

“There are things I don’t want to own. So borrowing those things on Buy Nothing is really nice. There is a person who I borrowed their cooler twice and their ladder twice so I feel like they are my neighbor even though they are not [right next door]. We get these birds that poop on the deck and the recommendation online was to get a fake owl. When it was posted on Buy Nothing, I thought, ‘I have to have that owl!’ It’s going to have a good home with me on the deck with some cats, a dog and some kids.”

— Beth Penn, 47, once helped build her local Buy Nothing group and now experiences it from the other side, as a member.

Stuffed toys find a new purpose

Magaly Leyva, left, stands with Tatiana Lonny, right, with the stuffed toys and play balls she is gifting her.

(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)

Magaly Leyva gives stuffed toys and plastic play balls to Tatiana Lonny.

“My mother-in-law gave the dolls and plastic play balls to my daughter, but she has so much. My daughter is not going to play with them with the same intent that another kid would, because she’s really little. I’d rather another kid use these things.”

— Magaly Leyva, 35, joined Buy Nothing nearly four years ago to find clothes for her nephew.

“I’m taking these new items to a township called Langa in South Africa. I know the kids there will be so happy. They have so little there. I’m doing this all by myself, I’m just collecting a GoFundMe for the suitcase fee at the airport.”

— Tatiana Lonny, 51, began using Buy Nothing in hopes of finding resources to support the animals she rescues.

A second helping

Laura Cherkas gives Aurora Sanchez a cast iron pan.

“Buy Nothing gives me the freedom to let go of things because I know that they will stay in the community and the neighborhood. I’m giving a couple of cast iron items that my husband and I got when we were on a cast iron kick, probably during COVID. We determined that we don’t actually use these particular pans and they were just making our drawers heavy. So we decided to let someone else get some use out of them.

“I hate throwing things away. I want to see things have another life. Sometimes I take things to a donation center, but I like the personal connection with Buy Nothing and that you know that there is someone who definitely wants your item.”

— Laura Cherkas, 40, has built connections with other moms through Buy Nothing and values it as a way to cycle toys in and out for her child.

Laura Cherkas, left, holds the pan she is gifting Aurora Sanchez, right, through Buy Nothing.

(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)

“I wanted a cast iron pan because I cook a lot of grilled meat. I’m excited to try this style of cooking out and it will help me when I cook for only one or two people. I got lucky because I was chosen to receive it.”

— Aurora Sanchez, 54, has spent the past two years engaging with Buy Nothing, finding in it a sense of neighborly support that makes her feel valued while strengthening her connection to the community.

Next player up

Joe Zeni, 70, is using his local Buy Nothing group on Facebook to give away a basketball hoop he used with his son when he was little.

(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)

Joe Zeni first offered a basketball hoop on Buy Nothing in 2023, where it remains unclaimed.

“I’m giving away a Huffy basketball freestanding hoop because it’s just taking up space. We used to play horse and shoot baskets together. My son is now 35, he doesn’t live here anymore.”

— Joe Zeni, 70, uses Buy Nothing often to give items away, believing many of the things he no longer needs still have purpose.

Other things worth knowing about:

You hear it before you see it.

Turning the corner of the 15th floor corridor of the historic American Cement Building, a low thrum of electronic sounds seeps through the door of Archived, an L.A. luxury vintage curator. Inside, standing 43 inches tall, a silver speaker from Takahiro Miyashita’s brand TheSoloist vibrates high fidelity through the showroom.

Constructed of 3D-printed polycarbonate resin and aluminum, with a wide amp frequency range of 20Hz to 25KHz, the object looks less like a speaker and more like a relic of time. It is an artifact set in concrete, chiseled away to reveal a replica of the Flatiron Building in New York City. Containing seven audio channels and two bass speakers, its vibrations can be felt against the skin.

Dream Liu, along with his partner Marquel Williams, founded Archived in 2019 to resell rare vintage collectibles. Their designer wardrobe houses some of the most sought after pieces in the industry — like a 1990 Chrome Hearts biker jacket— but the collection of homeware, including a Giovanni Tommaso Garattoni glass chair or a Saint Laurent arcade machine, is what greets you when you walk in. “That’s one way we stand out from all the other archival brands,” Liu says. “We’re very much deep into everything design-related, not just fashion.”

Liu first encountered TheSoloist speaker a few years ago at the home of a friend, a lighting designer working in music who he admired. The speaker, he says, lived at the back of his mind ever since. Archived eventually sourced it directly through TheSoloist’s manufacturer, now acting as an intermediary seller. Only a few hundred of the silver color-way, on display in the showroom, were produced. Even fewer exist of the black, for sale on their website for $9,500.

Miyashita, the cult Japanese designer behind early-2000s punk label Number (N)ine and later TheSoloist, is known for fusing meticulous Japanese craftsmanship with distinctly American motifs. The speaker, for instance, pays homage to New York City, where he opened his original store. Without even seeing a single garment, his style is clear: avant-garde, grunge and very rock ’n’ roll.

(Archived)

Six months ago, Archived opened its MacArthur Park showroom, a brightly lit loft with exposed beams, floor-to-ceiling windows and a panoramic view of downtown. Today they are a team of about six people. Distinctive objects like TheSoloist speaker are an extension of not only the brand’s imprint, but the architecture that houses it. “The speaker fits perfectly into this space.”

Archived, whose clientele consists mostly of celebrities and high-profile curators such as Timothée Chalamet, Travis Scott and Don Toliver, sources its pieces through consignments from sellers and endless hours spent hunting across international marketplaces. When it comes to selecting which piece makes it to the floor, Liu looks for collectible items and whatever fits the brand’s taste, which can be described as minimal avant-garde with a touch of fine craftsmanship.

“Nothing is random,” Liu says. Every item at Archived has a story, from the Giseok Kim aluminum shelf where an unworn pair of 2005 reconstructed Nike Dunks are displayed, to the Marc Newson racks which archival Rick Owens hangs off.

The speaker is valuable, Liu admits, because of Miyashita’s reputation as one of the greats, placing him alongside designers like Jun Takahashi and Yohji Yamamoto. “Our audience knows his designs and all of his great collections,” he says. “So the speaker itself speaks volumes.”

Originally from West Palm Beach, Fla., Liu moved to California to study fashion merchandising at FIDM in San Diego. Before that, he had dabbled in architecture. “It’s always been in the back of my mind,” he says.

Liu said he recognizes that designers, after a time, get fatigued with profit-driven conglomerates and begin to delve into other art forms. “Fashion is just another art form, and I think eventually, when [designers] tire of making clothes — Helmut Lang as an example, even Tom Ford — they transition to art.”

If the nature of design is building upon and taking from existing works, then creating an archival space is collecting pieces of history. “Everything is a reference point,” Liu says. “Every piece here has made an impact on the current climate of fashion.”

To Liu, items like the speaker are worthy of preservation because some of them are only getting rarer and rarer to find. “Pieces like this deserve to be presented properly, and be in spaces that reflect the caliber of the clothing,” he says. “You can put random objects in a beautiful space and that object becomes important.”