North Americans sell valuables at home parties

Move over Tupperware, Avon and Pampered Chef. Hard times have brought a new twist to the home-product demonstration parties that have long been a fixture of North American suburbia.

In some ways the party held one recent Sunday afternoon at Karen Starr's home in Thornhill, north of Toronto, followed the traditional pattern. About a dozen of Ms Starr's family, neighbours and friends – including a husband or two – chatted around the kitchen table as they tucked into a goat-cheese dip, bruschetta and fresh fruit.

But the guests had not come to buy cosmetics or plastic kitchen containers. Instead, they were there to sell gold and other precious items – in the form of unwanted earrings, bracelets, cufflinks, coins, charms and rings. One brought her mother's gold tooth, another a place setting of silver cutlery.

Such "gold-rush parties" have grown in popularity across North America as rising unemployment and shrinking stock portfolios squeeze household finances.

"The first thing is the economy – some people need food for the table," says Yalda Peera, owner of Direct Gold and Diamond, in Flint, Michigan, who organised 30-40 parties last year. General Motors is the biggest employer in Flint, and the local economy has been devastated by the crisis in the Detroit-based car industry.

Mr Peera says that as jobless figures have soared into double digits, more people are bringing their jewellery directly to his shop. One woman, he recalls, was in tears as she handed over a bracelet for money to buy a Nintendo game for her children.

Furthermore, the spurt in gold prices – from $400 an ounce in 2004 to $880 now – has raised awareness of the value of half-forgotten trinkets lying at the bottom of dressing-table drawers.

Philip Newman, research director at GFMS, a London-based gold consultancy, says that, while the impact of gold-rush parties is hard to quantify, "selling back by individuals has been quite tremendous over the past two to three years".

Pawnbrokers have stepped up their advertising. One gold buyer bought a costly commercial during this year's televised Super Bowl.

The gold-rush parties, says Mr Newman, "are tapping into a swath of people who would not otherwise have considered selling their gold".

The event at Ms Starr's home was organised by Gold Party Princess, set up in January by two sisters, Louise and Sue Alexander. Louise has worked as a jewellery appraiser, designer and store manager. Sue has a day job as a senior manager at one of Canada's biggest communications companies.

"We've been surprised," says Louise. "I've had so many people ask about selling their gold. It really is a sign of the times."

Every party they have held so far has brought bookings for more.

Gold Party Princess pays hosts a 10 per cent commission on all purchases, rising to 15 per cent if the money goes to charity.

The jewellery is sold to a local refinery. The sisters decline to discuss profit margins, although Louise points out: "We're not working for free".

Unlike Direct Gold and Diamond customers in Flint, most guests at Gold Party Princess events "are people who wouldn't dream of walking into pawn shops", she says. "They'd be embarrassed."

Gold Party Princess paid out more than C$10,000 (US$8,100, €6,300, £5,600) to Ms Starr's guests. One said she planned to use the C$335 she got for some jewellery to defray the costs of moving house. Another, saving for her daughter's Bat Mitzvah, was further motivated to sell her unwanted jewellery after her husband lost his job two days before the party.

But even in the privacy of a friend's home, parting with a piece of gold can be an intensely personal experience.

In contrast to the non-stop camaraderie of a Tupperware party, Ms Starr's guests were ushered, one by one, to the dining-room table, where the Alexanders – sporting Gold Party Princess T-shirts, and armed with magnifying glasses, scales, magnet, gold-testing machine and, not least, cheque book – pored over the offerings.

One guest made it clear that she did not wish others to be present when her turn came. The sisters rejected numerous items because they were not real gold.

The provenance of items sold at gold-rush parties can make for juicier gossip than comparing lipstick colours or Tupperware containers.

Several guests at the Alexanders' parties have traded in gifts from former husbands and ex-boyfriends. As Sue puts it: "They're interested to find that something they got from an ex-boyfriend that they thought was gold turned out not to be gold."

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