Velvet Illusions - Acid Head/She Was The Only Girl

Sometimes online auctions go sideways, and sometimes they go full clown car. A few years back I shelled out way too much money for some lots of 45s from a guy who absolutely stiffed me with Grade‑A, FDA‑approved garbage. And yes, yes, I know — buyer beware, especially when you’re dealing with some mystery dude whose profile picture looks like it was taken with a potato.

So there I am, staring at two boxes of pure, uncut crap — the kind of crap that definitely did not match the picture he posted. I’m talking “this was photographed in a parallel universe” levels of mismatch. The picture the seller posted was a Velvet Illusion — all smooth, dreamy, and whispering, “Look at me, I’m flawless.” But the records received were the gritty reminder of how people can be crooked. Honestly, the records were stuff into 3 boxes with no care, and the boxes had rips, open areas where records sloshed around, and it was a wonder nothing fell out or were smashed to smithereens. It was the kind of purchase where collectors should get hazard pay. At least I got a partial refund. But buried in that landfill of disappointment was… a gem. A real one. The kind of record that makes you blink twice and wonder if the vinyl gods accidentally smiled on you while you weren’t looking.

Now, you might ask, “Well hey, doesn’t that make the whole thing worth it?” And honestly? No. Not really. Because it wasn’t about the money — it was about not wanting to be taken advantage of by someone who clearly was out to take advantage of others. He sure doesn't know records. If he did know records, he would’ve yanked that gem out of the box so fast it would’ve left a cartoon dust cloud.

But here’s the kicker: I’m an ethical person. Painfully ethical. The kind of ethical where I want everyone else to meet me at my moral altitude, even though half the world is still wandering around the basement like thugs. So yes — I guess I’m naïve. I walk into these situations expecting honor, integrity, and maybe a little common sense, and instead in this case I get a dude selling me boxes of vinyl compost.

At least the gem survived the journey. And at least I can laugh about it now… mostly.