The Bzar App is Tinder for Shopping… In Other Words, Heaven


When a new social media app comes out, I download it. Not even a question. So in the Spring of 2013, when the word “Tinder” tiptoed its way across the interwebs, I figured it was another train I wouldn’t want to miss. Without doing any research–and neglect of reading those small-fonted descriptions in the App Store–I downloaded Tinder. I followed the directions, connected it to my Facebook and took a little tutorial. In ten minutes or less, I realized (to my misfortune) what I had gotten myself into.

At the time, I was in a serious relationship with my boyfriend. I’m sure you can imagine what happens next.

I vividly remember my face turning a shade of tomato upon realization of the sin I’d committed. I felt like I had cheated, or like headlights had exposed me kissing the bad boy at the drive-in. I was sitting in a classroom–I’ll never forget it–and I was absolutely mortified. In shock, I closed the app and put my phone away. I didn’t know what else to do.

Two hours later, I get a text from the boyf: “Is there anything you want to tell me?” For the first time ever, I couldn’t think of a thing I’d screwed up. I didn’t really do anything wrong, and the Tinder sitch didn’t cross my mind once. I think for my mental health, I locked it away in the subconscious and threw away the key in an Ocean of Innocence. I had never cheated before, never done anything wrong, and suddenly, I felt like Bad Girl RiRi.

When I told him “No, not that I can think of…” he replied, “You sure?” I insisted there was “literally nothing.” Unbeknownst to be, I was just about to lose the battle big time.

“What about this?” And below those little helvetica words was a screenshot of my Facebook profile picture–which was actually a picture of my boyfriend and me, nonetheless–and a banner proudly displaying “Tinder” right above it. I was flabbergasted.

He continued to tell me that I came up on his camp friend’s Tinder. My efforts in social network experimenting landed me in the doghouse, big time. In other words, I have absolutely terrible luck.

Since then, single or taken, I’ve refrained from dabbling much in the Tinder-sphere. As you can tell, we just didn’t get off to a great start. But recently, my best friend decided to invest time and dignity into creating a Tinder account after a spell that was neither dry nor fulfilling. Rationally, it seems like a great resort.

While my longing for Tinder experimentation burst back into flames and my checking account starting singing that spring shopping blues, three of my good friends from high school ignited something of their own. Spencer Carmona, Ethan Goldman, and Bryan Lapidus–three dapper men, who are impressively tech-savvy–founded Bzar, an app that’s basically Tinder for selling your stuff. It’s great for girls like me who get much more excited by a good pair of overalls than any guy in my local vicinity.

So if you like shopping, if you want to sell those pointed-toed boots that make your calves look too big, and if you are looking for that special someone (as in “someone who has those limited edition Supergas you’ve been yearning for”), Bzar is the app for you. Like yes, I’m giving some old friends a shoutout, but to be completely honest, there’s a pretty large chance I’d be writing about the app anyway. Bzar just gets me.

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Here’s how it works: Bzar locates where you are and finds other people in your area who are selling items (items = anything sellable). If you see something you like while swiping through, you can message the seller to chat about details, pricing, etc. and then use Foursquare to pinpoint a location where the two of you can rendezvous. Every seller has a profile, enabling you to assess the creepy factor safely, learn more about what he or she has bought and sold before, and see what other products are for sale. All the paying is done through PayPal–every online shopper’s best friend.

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Bzar is available for free on the App Store NOW! You can also ch-ch-check ’em out at or on Facebook here. Is there a flaw here? Don’t really think so.

Here’s my lesson: don’t let your social networking fantasies die. You never know when they’ll be resurrected in the form of something better.

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