Domelti prépare la suite.
Our story
Two people, a few unsuccessful searches and another idea of the internet.
The two of us arrived in Luxembourg with a new home to fill and very little desire to buy everything new.
In neighbouring countries, we knew straightforward places to find furniture, sell a bike or give away whatever was filling up the cellar.
In Luxembourg, we looked for the equivalent.
Then we kept looking.
Scattered groups. Listings in different languages. Searches to repeat with different words. Things just around the corner, but almost impossible to find.
We could never quite understand why there was nothing that worked properly here.
So we kept looking. Not just for a table this time. For an explanation.
Second-hand things already change hands in Luxembourg.
People arrive, leave, move house, settle in and pass on what they no longer need. There is plenty of movement in this country. In its cellars too.
The problem is that all these people do not always find one another.
One person posts in German. Another searches in French. The furniture is five kilometres away, but the right words never meet.
Add a border, a few private groups and several different searches for the same item.
That is how a table nearby becomes mysteriously impossible to find.
Luxembourg is not too small for second-hand.
It is just more complicated than it looks.
Several languages cross paths every day. Borders run through people's routines, journeys and sometimes their neighbourhoods. You can live in Luxembourg, work in Belgium, shop in France and buy a wardrobe from someone who described it in German.
For people, this is normal.
For most search engines, not so much.
That is when the idea for Domelti began to take shape.
A place where everyone could post in their own language. Where a search would not get stuck on the exact word. Where distance would matter more than borders. Where things could find a new home without travelling across Europe in a box.
It just needed a little common sense.
As the idea grew, something else became clear.
We were a little tired of today's internet.
Ads everywhere. Pop-ups asking to follow you before even saying hello. Paid results jumping the queue. Endless feeds. Notifications dreamed up to bring you back. Free services that end up costing a lot of attention.
Looking for a chest of drawers should not help someone reconstruct your personality.
And selling a bike should not require becoming a content creator.
Ad tracking, overexposure and the race for attention are not our thing. We did not want to build another feed to keep filling, or another service that makes money when you forget why you opened it.
We wanted to build somewhere useful. Then let you get on with your day.
You were looking for a chair. That is all.
Our arrival in Luxembourg.
The table we could not find.
Things stuck between languages.
Borders that exist on maps, but much less in everyday life.
Our wish to buy fewer new things.
Our weariness with advertising, tracking and algorithms always asking for a little more attention.
domeltiWe put it all together. And Domelti was the result.
A local second-hand community where everyone posts in their own language, finds things in theirs and arranges exchanges directly with people nearby.
No ads. No commission. No turning your bike search into advertising data.
On Domelti, a listing can be posted in German and found in French. Someone can search in Portuguese for something another person described in English.
Domelti prepares and translates listings. It also helps searches cross languages.
We could explain the technology behind all this at length.
But the result is simpler:
The right object does not always have the right accent.
Domelti favours local exchanges and in-person handovers.
You find something. You contact the person. Together, you decide on payment and where to meet.
Domelti does not handle the money, take a commission or put itself between you in the name of making life easier.
And if your search radius crosses a border, we will not stop it to check its papers.
Creating a listing should start with a few photos and a few words.
Domelti picks out useful information on the item, its box or its label. It prepares the title, description and details. You read, correct and publish.
The tedious work is automated. The decision stays human.
You are selling a turntable. Not writing its official biography.
Domelti does not sell your attention.
No behavioural advertising. No paid option to jump the queue. No feed designed to keep you captive. No advertising profile built from your searches.
In time, Domelti aims to support itself through a simple annual membership.
Membership will fund the service members use: its infrastructure, translations, moderation, abuse prevention and independence.
One membership. All of Domelti. No ads, no quotas and no commission.
During its gradual opening, Domelti remains free. A community needs to exist before you ask it to fund anything. That seems the right way round to us.
Domelti is not yet a huge catalogue full of listings on every street.
At first, some searches will find nothing. Some towns will be more active than others. A local community is not made by adding fake counters and three stock photos.
It grows one object at a time.
Every listing can help someone settle in, someone else empty a few boxes and an object avoid the tip.
We would rather be useful to a few people today than pretend to be indispensable to everyone tomorrow.
Starting small. Not doing things by halves.
Domelti began with two people, a few unsuccessful searches and one simple question:
Why is it still so complicated to find something just around the corner?
We did not find a satisfying answer. So we built our own.
A table, a few boxes, a bike, or anything that will not make the next move.
