From dirty socks to filthy underwear, online punters are forking out hundreds of pounds to get their hands on them.
The likes of stay-at-home mums and students looking for extra cash are all taking advantage of the fetish which has boomed thanks to the likes of eBay and Facebook.
Curious about the simple potential money-maker, MyLondon reporter Hannah Kane decided to try flogging a pair of her sweaty socks through Facebook's Marketplace – and it proved a success.
She had not only worn the socks all day at work, but had also gone on a 5km run in them.
"It’s safe to say they were not in the slightest bit fresh," Hannah admitted.
Here Hannah reveals what happened when she tried flogging her dirty socks…
If you’d have asked me yesterday morning how I would be spending my Wednesday night, it would probably have something to do with catching up on Love Island.
Little did I know that it would be wildly – and I mean that in every sense of the word – different.
Inspired by our sister site Essex Live’s experiment, I decided to see if I could make some money on Facebook selling groups – by advertising a pair of dirty socks.
For some, this might be too disgusting to comprehend. After all, I’d worn them all day at work commuting in and out of Central London and then went on a 5km run in them.
It’s safe to say they were not in the slightest bit fresh.
But now, not even 24 hours later, I’m sitting here with £10 more in my bank account than yesterday.
Here’s how it happened…
It was 6.35pm on Wednesday (July 10) and I had just got home from work. It was a particularly hot, muggy day in London and I was exhausted and felt quite gross.
Then I had a brainwave and decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and make some money.
“Mum, let’s go for a run so I can sell my socks on Facebook,” is not what my poor mother expected me to suggest for our evening, but being the ever supportive parent that she is, took it in her stride and off we went for a quick 30-minute run.
By the time we got back, the socks – black, odd and one with a hole in the heel – were, quite frankly, reeking.
Undeterred, I snapped a couple of pictures and posted on about eight Facebook groups for different London areas – Ealing to Croydon, Twickenham to Harrow, you name the group and I posted there.
I put them up for £5, which I felt was a reasonable price.
The ad caused quite a stir. A lot of people thought I’d been hacked, others threatened to tell my mum, while some were genuinely curious if anyone would take me up on my offer and if so what sort of person they would be.
And I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Within about 15 minutes, I had about five men sliding into my DMs asking to buy my stinky socks.
It’s important to point out that everyone I spoke to was really polite and in no way made me feel uncomfortable – they simply explained that they had a fetish and wanted to take me up on my offer.
The only thing was, a lot of them didn’t just want socks. I was inundated with requests for shoes, stockings and even underwear, all of which I declined.
By 11pm, I was feeling pretty weary of going back and forth to each potential buyer and wondered if I’d made a massive mistake.
So, I called it a night and thought I’d deal with it in the morning.
Fresh-faced and ready for what my messages had in store for me, I opened up Messenger to find around 17 new messages.
Quickly scanning through and vetting them, I found one man who was willing to offer me what I’d asked for the socks – but there was a twist.
This man, we’ll call him John, was willing to pay me a whole £10 to send him TWO pairs of dirty socks.
He didn’t ask for anything else, and even said that while he doesn’t have PayPal, he’d set it up so that he could pay me – something which a lot of other interested parties had not been willing to do.
Bingo, I thought.
John is my man, and I accepted his offer. Within another 20 minutes he’d set up an account and transferred the tenner and sent me his address.
He even asked if I could send him a weekly delivery. I declined.
So, off I trotted to the Post Office, the socks carefully wrapped and sealed and praying that the woman behind the counter wouldn’t ask what was inside.
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