My crafting tends to wax and wane, and right now it's definitely waning. As I plod toward Christmas and work gets busier I find that I barely have the energy to sketch out new designs, let alone make anything. Part of the problem is that I'm recovering from what I have billed Death Cold 2010; I haven't really thought clearly since last Sunday and spent nearly 72 straight hours in bed earlier this week (as you may have guessed, I am not normally a particularly restful person). The rest of the problem is that my yarn supply is criminally skimpy right now. When I crocheted as a hobby buying materials wasn''t that big of a deal. Now that I'm having a going at entrepreneurship, budgeting and cost-benefit analyses make trips to the yarn store a little less fun. Now I feel like I can only buy yarn once I've sold something. While my sales for this month have been good I never got the major holiday pop that I've been hoping for since July.
I hope that the cute local yarn store near my parents' house, the Woolly Lamb, might have some good sales after Christmas. If any of you are in Western New York, the Woolly Lamb is well worth a visit. It's one of those quaint yarn shops that has been in business for many years, and perusing their shelves is like wandering through a really beautiful candy shop. It's a cozy space with couches and chairs, and there are always people working or talking about their projects (one of the hallmarks of a great neighborhood yarn shop). The prices are reasonable for the range and quality of yarns offered. The variety is amazing, the colors delicious, and the textures diverse and intriguing. It's also crochet-friendly. I mention this because, as a crocheter, I am very put off by yarn shops that only cater to knitters -- i.e. only selling knitting patterns, not stocking hooks, etc.. It's those shops' loss -- especially since crochet projects use about 1/3 more yarn. One of the best things about the Woolly Lamb is the staff. The women I've met who work their are knowledgeable, kind, patient, and eager to share many years of wisdom.
I actually have a special place in my heart for this shop because of something that happened in my house a few Christmases ago. I had carelessly left my stocking on the floor (this would have all been avoided had I simply hung it by the chimney with care) when our belovedly devious Cairn terrier caught wind of a Truffalo bar inside. Rocky took the shortest route to the chocolate bar and chewed a large hole in the wonderful knitted stocking that I have had since I was a very little girl. Tears ensued. When I headed back to Brooklyn my mother took the stocking to the Woolly Lamb for a consult, assuming that it was a lost cause. Not only was the woman there able to fix it, she was even able to match the circa-1982 yarn!
Stay tuned for another review of a shop in my very own Brooklyn, my beloved Brooklyn General Store. Want to know why I tend to leave BGS with a tummy as full as my wallet is empty? Check back soon to find out.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Too Much, Not Enough: Competing with "Made in China"
"Why does this cost so much?"
People ask me that question all the time, both about my own work and at my retail job. When I sell my work at craft shows, many people express dismay at my prices. After all, why should they buy a handmade Jaunty Newsboy hat from me for $31 when they can buy what they think of as a comparable item from Target for $14.99?
Before I explain my pricing, I would like to revisit an important and oft-forgotten event in American history.
On Saturday, March 25, 1911, five hundred women reported to work at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory on the eighth, ninth, and tenth floors of the Asch Building in New York's Washington Square. Most of the garment workers were young immigrant girls who worked 9 hours a day to help support their families. The girls worked for very low weekly wages in unsanitary conditions and were often locked in the factory during working hours. When a fire broke out on the eighth floor the flames quickly spread throughout the factory, with the textiles acting as an accelerant. Terrified workers swarmed the one unlocked staircase and crowded the building's single fire escape, which twisted and collapsed under their weight; dozens of girls fell eight stories to the ground. Some workers were able to escape to the roof or by freight elevator to the ground floor, many with their clothing still on fire. When these exits became inoperable, the girls began to jump from the windows. Passersby initially thought that the owners were throwing bolts of cloth from the windows. Only when they drew closer to the building did they realize that they were watching young women jump to their deaths to avoid being burned alive. Firemen later discovered bodies melted together against the locked door. One hundred and forty-six people died in the fire, and seventy-one escaped with injuries.
The Triangle Fire was one of the most gruesome workplace disasters in American history. In addition to inspiring industrial regulations, wage and hour restrictions, and fire safety standards, the Triangle Fire also gave rise to a class action law suit brought by survivors and family members of the deceased young women. (For a riveting account of the Triangle Fire and the labor reforms that followed, see David Von Drehle's Triangle: The Fire That Changed America.)
Let's look at modern day American labor and employment law. The federal minimum wage is $7.25. Non-exempt American workers receive overtime when they work more than 40 hours per week. The United States also has laws to control family and medical leave, prevent child labor, and provide for unemployment insurance. (For more information on all of these topics, visit the Department of Labor website.) While the laws are not perfect (you'd be amazed how many employers are exempt from compliance with basic employee protections, and there are still numerous sweatshops in operation in the US) labor laws make a huge difference in our collective working life.
Now, let's examine the labor practices in the country the provides most of our cheap imported goods: China. Activists for the global garment industry have documented the working conditions of Chinese garment workers since the early 1990s. At present, the average hourly wage in Southern China is about $0.75 American cents thanks in part to an unlimited supply of cheap labor. Despite American companies' highly publicized promises to avoid buying sweatshop goods, lax enforcement encourages the maintenance of the status quo. Furthermore, many factories have simply become more adept at concealing their practices. Chinese factory workers are frequently locked in the facility, forced to live in prison-like dormitories, and denied access to food or restrooms during the 14-hour work day. (Again, these practices are by no means exclusive to China. If you do a little digging you will encounter sweatshops right here in New York City, where manufacturers benefit from an unlimited supply of illegal immigrant laborers that are often both unaware of their rights and fearful of deportation.)
Why is this allowed? Because we Americans are accustomed to cheap stuff. We are used to buying our food, especially our protein, at inflation-proof prices supported by government subsidies to factory farming operations (everyone who eats should read Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer). And thanks to foreign sweatshops that handily avoid American labor restrictions, we can buy that hat for $14.99. Who cares how it was made, as long as it's cheap?
As you may have guessed, it is all but impossible for an artisan to compete with prices like that. I strive to appeal to my customers on the grounds of quality, uniqueness, and conscience, but I almost always have to sell myself short to make a sale. Let me give you a breakdown of my own costs for making a hat like my Charcoal Gray Eco-Wool Ear Flap Hat:
Cute, right? The first thing you should know is that I do not work from other people's patterns. I design ALL of my products myself. But for the sake of this analysis, we will ignore the time spend in the design process and stick to production costs.
1. Materials: I work almost exclusively with natural fibers. I do this for a few reasons: acrylic, while considerably cheaper, irritates my hands if I work with it too much. Plus, wool is a renewable resource and acrylic yarn is made from petroleum. Yuck.
This hat is made of eco-wool, which is a very high quality wool yarn at an economic $15 per skein. The skeins (units in which yarn is sold) are quite large, so I was able to make this hat from a single skein.
2. Labor: It takes me about 4-5 hours to make a hat like this. Twisted cables look great, but they slow down the production process considerably. Still, this style of hat is very popular this year so I like to include some of them in my shop at all times. Let's say I'm working very quickly and I finish this hat in 4 hours. If I were to pay myself minimum wage ($7.25) that would amount to $29.
3. The Math: You've probably figured this out already. To recoup my investment and pay myself a fair wage, I would have to charge $44 for my hat. In order to stay competitive -- even in the Etsy marketplace, which is supposed to be devoted to handmade goods -- I'm charging $31, for the simple fact that no one will pay me what the hat is worth. Even if someone buys this hat (and there are no guarantees that will happen), I will still lose money.
If you've made it this far into my manifesto, I applaud you. I'm not trying to throw a pity party for myself, because I really enjoy the crafting process. But I also think it's essential that we think more critically about the work that goes into our purchases.
It comes down to this: shoppers are asking the wrong questions. Rather than looking at the handmade item and asking "why does this cost so much?" they should be looking at the mass-produced item and asking "why does this cost so little?"
They might not like the answer.
People ask me that question all the time, both about my own work and at my retail job. When I sell my work at craft shows, many people express dismay at my prices. After all, why should they buy a handmade Jaunty Newsboy hat from me for $31 when they can buy what they think of as a comparable item from Target for $14.99?
Before I explain my pricing, I would like to revisit an important and oft-forgotten event in American history.
On Saturday, March 25, 1911, five hundred women reported to work at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory on the eighth, ninth, and tenth floors of the Asch Building in New York's Washington Square. Most of the garment workers were young immigrant girls who worked 9 hours a day to help support their families. The girls worked for very low weekly wages in unsanitary conditions and were often locked in the factory during working hours. When a fire broke out on the eighth floor the flames quickly spread throughout the factory, with the textiles acting as an accelerant. Terrified workers swarmed the one unlocked staircase and crowded the building's single fire escape, which twisted and collapsed under their weight; dozens of girls fell eight stories to the ground. Some workers were able to escape to the roof or by freight elevator to the ground floor, many with their clothing still on fire. When these exits became inoperable, the girls began to jump from the windows. Passersby initially thought that the owners were throwing bolts of cloth from the windows. Only when they drew closer to the building did they realize that they were watching young women jump to their deaths to avoid being burned alive. Firemen later discovered bodies melted together against the locked door. One hundred and forty-six people died in the fire, and seventy-one escaped with injuries.
The Triangle Fire was one of the most gruesome workplace disasters in American history. In addition to inspiring industrial regulations, wage and hour restrictions, and fire safety standards, the Triangle Fire also gave rise to a class action law suit brought by survivors and family members of the deceased young women. (For a riveting account of the Triangle Fire and the labor reforms that followed, see David Von Drehle's Triangle: The Fire That Changed America.)
Let's look at modern day American labor and employment law. The federal minimum wage is $7.25. Non-exempt American workers receive overtime when they work more than 40 hours per week. The United States also has laws to control family and medical leave, prevent child labor, and provide for unemployment insurance. (For more information on all of these topics, visit the Department of Labor website.) While the laws are not perfect (you'd be amazed how many employers are exempt from compliance with basic employee protections, and there are still numerous sweatshops in operation in the US) labor laws make a huge difference in our collective working life.
Now, let's examine the labor practices in the country the provides most of our cheap imported goods: China. Activists for the global garment industry have documented the working conditions of Chinese garment workers since the early 1990s. At present, the average hourly wage in Southern China is about $0.75 American cents thanks in part to an unlimited supply of cheap labor. Despite American companies' highly publicized promises to avoid buying sweatshop goods, lax enforcement encourages the maintenance of the status quo. Furthermore, many factories have simply become more adept at concealing their practices. Chinese factory workers are frequently locked in the facility, forced to live in prison-like dormitories, and denied access to food or restrooms during the 14-hour work day. (Again, these practices are by no means exclusive to China. If you do a little digging you will encounter sweatshops right here in New York City, where manufacturers benefit from an unlimited supply of illegal immigrant laborers that are often both unaware of their rights and fearful of deportation.)
Why is this allowed? Because we Americans are accustomed to cheap stuff. We are used to buying our food, especially our protein, at inflation-proof prices supported by government subsidies to factory farming operations (everyone who eats should read Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer). And thanks to foreign sweatshops that handily avoid American labor restrictions, we can buy that hat for $14.99. Who cares how it was made, as long as it's cheap?
As you may have guessed, it is all but impossible for an artisan to compete with prices like that. I strive to appeal to my customers on the grounds of quality, uniqueness, and conscience, but I almost always have to sell myself short to make a sale. Let me give you a breakdown of my own costs for making a hat like my Charcoal Gray Eco-Wool Ear Flap Hat:
1. Materials: I work almost exclusively with natural fibers. I do this for a few reasons: acrylic, while considerably cheaper, irritates my hands if I work with it too much. Plus, wool is a renewable resource and acrylic yarn is made from petroleum. Yuck.
This hat is made of eco-wool, which is a very high quality wool yarn at an economic $15 per skein. The skeins (units in which yarn is sold) are quite large, so I was able to make this hat from a single skein.
2. Labor: It takes me about 4-5 hours to make a hat like this. Twisted cables look great, but they slow down the production process considerably. Still, this style of hat is very popular this year so I like to include some of them in my shop at all times. Let's say I'm working very quickly and I finish this hat in 4 hours. If I were to pay myself minimum wage ($7.25) that would amount to $29.
3. The Math: You've probably figured this out already. To recoup my investment and pay myself a fair wage, I would have to charge $44 for my hat. In order to stay competitive -- even in the Etsy marketplace, which is supposed to be devoted to handmade goods -- I'm charging $31, for the simple fact that no one will pay me what the hat is worth. Even if someone buys this hat (and there are no guarantees that will happen), I will still lose money.
If you've made it this far into my manifesto, I applaud you. I'm not trying to throw a pity party for myself, because I really enjoy the crafting process. But I also think it's essential that we think more critically about the work that goes into our purchases.
It comes down to this: shoppers are asking the wrong questions. Rather than looking at the handmade item and asking "why does this cost so much?" they should be looking at the mass-produced item and asking "why does this cost so little?"
They might not like the answer.
Friday, December 10, 2010
A Cold Cold COLD Day in the Park
Have I mentioned Emily, my go-to Very Sage model/dear dear dear friend? In addition to being stunning, she is sassy, fun, whip-smart, and an amazingly good sport about taking an early lunch to take pictures in Madison Square Park on a supremely chilly day. Now that I think about it, she's always been an amazingly good sport and an even better friend -- even when we met on the first day of seventh grade and I was all big teeth, huge glasses, and bad hair.
Here are a just a few pictures from our very chilly shoot this morning.
First, here is Emily in the new Ruby Red Jaunty Newsboy. (P.S., none of these items are on Etsy yet, but they will be very soon.) How great does the red look with the white scarf, black coat, and the gray text of the Some Dead White Guy Memorial?
And here's another one of Emily in a brand spankin' new matching hat and gloves set made from my new favorite yarn: a decadently soft blend of merino wool and silk.I'm usually not into matchy-matchy stuff, but I like these.
Finally, check out this chunky heavyweight ear flap hat. I pounced on some amazing superfine alpaca yarn while I was home for Thanksgiving. It was everything I was looking for: super warm, squishily soft, and a beautiful light oatmeal color. Judging from the texture, I don't think that alpaca ever had an itchy thought in its life. Seriously, it's like butter.
I think I'm going to start calling my braided ear flap hats "Emily hats."
Here are a just a few pictures from our very chilly shoot this morning.
First, here is Emily in the new Ruby Red Jaunty Newsboy. (P.S., none of these items are on Etsy yet, but they will be very soon.) How great does the red look with the white scarf, black coat, and the gray text of the Some Dead White Guy Memorial?
And here's another one of Emily in a brand spankin' new matching hat and gloves set made from my new favorite yarn: a decadently soft blend of merino wool and silk.I'm usually not into matchy-matchy stuff, but I like these.
I think I'm going to start calling my braided ear flap hats "Emily hats."
I Can See That Manners Are Not Your Strong Point
I know that manners do not occupy pride of place in the retail shopping experience. However, even I am taken aback by the complete boorishness of certain customers. I feel compelled to share two things that happened to me at work today.
1. Part of my job is showing people what certain textile accessories look like on a human (as opposed to a mannequin). Today I was demonstrating how to put on a particularly beautiful scarf. A woman looked at me and said "It looks like a fungus. You look like a rock with a fungus growing on it."
There is really no good response to a comment like that. So I did what I always do. I smiled and I bit back the urge to tell her that everything about her appearance (lumpy body type, lumpy coat, saggy jowls, lank hair) made her look like some kind of terrifying human-potato hybrid.
2. This afternoon, another woman was looking at a lovely pair of handmade fingerless gloves. She laughingly told her friend that she didn't understand why "these homeless person gloves" were so popular. I'm sure she also has a good chuckle every time she sees a homeless person huddled on a subway grate. And no, she didn't return the gloves to the proper location when she scornfully tossed them down.
That is all.
1. Part of my job is showing people what certain textile accessories look like on a human (as opposed to a mannequin). Today I was demonstrating how to put on a particularly beautiful scarf. A woman looked at me and said "It looks like a fungus. You look like a rock with a fungus growing on it."
There is really no good response to a comment like that. So I did what I always do. I smiled and I bit back the urge to tell her that everything about her appearance (lumpy body type, lumpy coat, saggy jowls, lank hair) made her look like some kind of terrifying human-potato hybrid.
2. This afternoon, another woman was looking at a lovely pair of handmade fingerless gloves. She laughingly told her friend that she didn't understand why "these homeless person gloves" were so popular. I'm sure she also has a good chuckle every time she sees a homeless person huddled on a subway grate. And no, she didn't return the gloves to the proper location when she scornfully tossed them down.
That is all.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Fantastic Ways to Annoy an Artisan: A Holiday Shopping Guide
Working for a successful artisan has taught me that, while many potential customers possess an uncanny god-given gift of saying rude, annoying things about even the most beautiful handmade items, most of you have a little work to do if you want to achieve a truly irritating level of offensive customership. "But Very Sage," you might ask, "how can I be as annoying as the gifted people of whom you speak?" Look no further! Here is a handy-dandy little guide that I call Fantastic Ways to Annoy an Artisan. Make the most of your holiday shopping by taking this guide to your local craft fair/gallery shop/trunk show. Within minutes, you too will be as irritating as an experienced looky-loo.
1. Grab fragile items off of displays without asking for help. Don't bother with being stealthy; if you want to be truly annoying, stealth is not your friend. Try garments on in a way that stretches, snags, or otherwise compromises the material (bonus points if you leave a smudge of Wet 'n' Wild lipstick on something white). Then, if you're really interested in an advanced level of annoyance, cough on the garments before placing them back on the rack. Whatever you do, never return the item to its proper place. If you have the gift of annoyance, you can easily mess up 3 or 4 other items in the process.
2. Select a beautiful and complicated item, preferably made of a costly material like cashmere. Try it on (see above), then loudly inform the artisan that you have something just like it. Open your absurdly large handbag and pull out a sweatshop-made, petroleum-based, mass-produced eyesore from Forever 21 that bears little to no resemblance to the item. Watch as the artisan tries to maintain a level of friendly decorum. If you look really closely, you can usually see a piece of her soul die. Bonus points: say "And this only cost $14! Why is yours so much more expensive?"
3. Everyone loves children, especially when they have little jam-covered fingers! Many artisans truly enjoy children and welcome them into their shops. Take advantage of this goodwill as a form of free babysitting. If you are able to engage in some advance planning, encourage your offspring to touch everything they can. Watch your child from afar -- not for the sake of supervision, but for the sake of determining whether your child has an innate talent for annoying artisans. You will know as soon as you see a little finger go up a nose before touching hand-dyed silk. If you have been careful in your selection of the artisan that you wish to annoy, you have chosen one that feels bad about criticizing your parenting style and tries to bring your attention to your child in a polite and roundabout way. Bellow something about taking your business to a more family-friendly establishment as you storm off, preferably knocking down a display on your way out.
4. Five simple words: "I could make this myself." This phrase is most effective when cheerfully uttered in front of something that took at least 5 days to complete. Throw in a comment about how you learned to garter stitch from grandma/made a clay pot at summer camp when you were 11/once held a crochet hook in 1973. This shows the artisan that you two have so much in common! You will no doubt become lifelong friends.
Remember, truly annoying an artisan takes work. Don't expect success on your first attempt. However, with study and practice, you may one day be able to combine all of these techniques in one shopping expedition!
1. Grab fragile items off of displays without asking for help. Don't bother with being stealthy; if you want to be truly annoying, stealth is not your friend. Try garments on in a way that stretches, snags, or otherwise compromises the material (bonus points if you leave a smudge of Wet 'n' Wild lipstick on something white). Then, if you're really interested in an advanced level of annoyance, cough on the garments before placing them back on the rack. Whatever you do, never return the item to its proper place. If you have the gift of annoyance, you can easily mess up 3 or 4 other items in the process.
2. Select a beautiful and complicated item, preferably made of a costly material like cashmere. Try it on (see above), then loudly inform the artisan that you have something just like it. Open your absurdly large handbag and pull out a sweatshop-made, petroleum-based, mass-produced eyesore from Forever 21 that bears little to no resemblance to the item. Watch as the artisan tries to maintain a level of friendly decorum. If you look really closely, you can usually see a piece of her soul die. Bonus points: say "And this only cost $14! Why is yours so much more expensive?"
3. Everyone loves children, especially when they have little jam-covered fingers! Many artisans truly enjoy children and welcome them into their shops. Take advantage of this goodwill as a form of free babysitting. If you are able to engage in some advance planning, encourage your offspring to touch everything they can. Watch your child from afar -- not for the sake of supervision, but for the sake of determining whether your child has an innate talent for annoying artisans. You will know as soon as you see a little finger go up a nose before touching hand-dyed silk. If you have been careful in your selection of the artisan that you wish to annoy, you have chosen one that feels bad about criticizing your parenting style and tries to bring your attention to your child in a polite and roundabout way. Bellow something about taking your business to a more family-friendly establishment as you storm off, preferably knocking down a display on your way out.
4. Five simple words: "I could make this myself." This phrase is most effective when cheerfully uttered in front of something that took at least 5 days to complete. Throw in a comment about how you learned to garter stitch from grandma/made a clay pot at summer camp when you were 11/once held a crochet hook in 1973. This shows the artisan that you two have so much in common! You will no doubt become lifelong friends.
Remember, truly annoying an artisan takes work. Don't expect success on your first attempt. However, with study and practice, you may one day be able to combine all of these techniques in one shopping expedition!
Saturday, December 4, 2010
My Second Shift, or Why My Hair Looks So Bad Right Now
If you're like me, you got home from work today and you were so tired that you accidentally shampooed your hair with lotion (yes, I work on Saturdays, and no, I'm not kidding about the lotion).
Since I am an unemployed lawyer, I am spending the holiday season working a temporary retail job. The work is hard, but I'm lucky enough to be working for an amazing textile designer (honestly, she's so talented it's almost scary). It is a pleasure to work alongside her and help to sell her amazing designs. It's also very inspiring to see a crafter who has really made it as a professional artisan. Designing, creating, and marketing her work are her full-time job. She sells at craft shows, boutiques, and museum stores all over the United States and in several foreign countries. I don't expect to turn my work into a full-time job any time soon, but it gives me hope that I may be able to do so in the future.
As much as I love to crochet it's a struggle not to collapse into bed as soon as I get home from work. Like most crafters, selling the things that I make isn't my only job. Here's a snapshot of an average day for me right now:
I do my best to get up by 8:00 even though I don't have to be at work until noon. I spend a good amount of time looking for a law job online, then turn to managing my Etsy shop. On a good day I'll have made a sale, which leads to gift wrapping, receipt printing, coupon coding, and a brisk walk to the post office with my cute little parcel. I try to post a new item on Etsy every day, but it's very hard to keep up. The next best thing is reposting an item or two in hopes of bumping that item (and consequently, my shop) closer to the top of a few people's searches. I try to squeeze in some photo editing for items that are in the pipeline, or maybe even pre-write a product description or two. By 11:00 I'm usually crocheting away on the subway while precariously wedged between a few large businessman. I try to work on something, whether it's a hat, flower pin, or pair of booties, whenever I have a long train ride (as a bonus, crocheting booties might make people think I'm pregnant so I have a better chance of scoring a seat). I arrive at work at 12:00, ready to spend the next 6 hours engaged in non-stop selling, smiling until my face hurts, and wishing there were a painless way to be on my feet all day. The evening commute provides another good opportunity to crochet. I stumble through the door a little after 7:00 and make an appointment with my dear friend and lovely model, Emily, to take some photos during a few precious weekend daylight hours. By 8:00 I've settled in for more job searching, blogging, business planning, designing, and crocheting.
Sounds busy, right? Don't worry, I still find time for plenty of eating and dawdling. Probably a little too much of both, actually.
Since I am an unemployed lawyer, I am spending the holiday season working a temporary retail job. The work is hard, but I'm lucky enough to be working for an amazing textile designer (honestly, she's so talented it's almost scary). It is a pleasure to work alongside her and help to sell her amazing designs. It's also very inspiring to see a crafter who has really made it as a professional artisan. Designing, creating, and marketing her work are her full-time job. She sells at craft shows, boutiques, and museum stores all over the United States and in several foreign countries. I don't expect to turn my work into a full-time job any time soon, but it gives me hope that I may be able to do so in the future.
As much as I love to crochet it's a struggle not to collapse into bed as soon as I get home from work. Like most crafters, selling the things that I make isn't my only job. Here's a snapshot of an average day for me right now:
I do my best to get up by 8:00 even though I don't have to be at work until noon. I spend a good amount of time looking for a law job online, then turn to managing my Etsy shop. On a good day I'll have made a sale, which leads to gift wrapping, receipt printing, coupon coding, and a brisk walk to the post office with my cute little parcel. I try to post a new item on Etsy every day, but it's very hard to keep up. The next best thing is reposting an item or two in hopes of bumping that item (and consequently, my shop) closer to the top of a few people's searches. I try to squeeze in some photo editing for items that are in the pipeline, or maybe even pre-write a product description or two. By 11:00 I'm usually crocheting away on the subway while precariously wedged between a few large businessman. I try to work on something, whether it's a hat, flower pin, or pair of booties, whenever I have a long train ride (as a bonus, crocheting booties might make people think I'm pregnant so I have a better chance of scoring a seat). I arrive at work at 12:00, ready to spend the next 6 hours engaged in non-stop selling, smiling until my face hurts, and wishing there were a painless way to be on my feet all day. The evening commute provides another good opportunity to crochet. I stumble through the door a little after 7:00 and make an appointment with my dear friend and lovely model, Emily, to take some photos during a few precious weekend daylight hours. By 8:00 I've settled in for more job searching, blogging, business planning, designing, and crocheting.
Sounds busy, right? Don't worry, I still find time for plenty of eating and dawdling. Probably a little too much of both, actually.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
"So, what do you do?"
Is there anyone who actually enjoys being asked that question? How did it become a staple of polite conversation? I lost all fondness for the what-do-you-do line of conversation when I joined the legions of unemployed law school graduates.
Right now the answer is simple: I crochet. A lot.
I have spent most of my time since taking the bar exam in July working a variety of jobs, some of them fairly demeaning, while looking for a "real" job. When you're sending out enough resumes each day to wallpaper an Upper East Side co-op, sometimes you need to do something that makes you feel good about yourself. I crave activities that make me feel productive. If it involves using my hands to create something beautiful, then it's more likely to help me forget the stressful thoughts that are dancing around in my brain.
While I'm still actively seeking a law job, I am also working hard to make the transition from hobby crafter to professional artisan. As far as I can tell, this transition is largely mental. I've always made art of one kind or another. I majored in it in college and have even had some pieces in small exhibitions. However, my artwork never became compatible with my tiny-apartment lifestyle (let's just say that the term "studio" apartment is a complete misnomer). When a friend first taught me to crochet, I sniffed a bit: I was an artist. This was craft. Make something that people would use and wear? How perfectly plebeian.
But something must have stuck, because I have been crocheting with increasing regularity and (I hope) skill for eight years. When I started making hats as gifts, friends and coworkers encouraged me to start selling them. I opened an online shop on Etsy.com, a marketplace for handmade and vintage items, in January 2009. Like many new Etsy sellers I expected the sales to roll in. I mean, my friends loved my stuff, right? And my prices were reasonable, right? And I always got compliments when I wore my hats around New York City, right?
Well, it turns out that none of those things is enough to create a successful online craft empire.
Etsy is enormous. As of today there are 271,433 active shops, and new shops open every day. Doing business on Etsy boils down to one simple fact: if your work doesn't stand out, you don't make sales. While blogs like the hilarious Regretsy.com poke fun at lackluster Etsy items, most of the work on Etsy is impeccable. Furthermore, gone are the olden days of posting a few dark pictures of your friend wearing that cute necklace you made -- many Etsy sellers now hire professional photographers, models, photo editors, copy writers, and graphic designers to make their shops stand out. Online crafting is big business.
Where do I fit into this? Well, I'm still muddling through nearly two years after opening my shop. With the exception of sending my very patient boyfriend on occasional trips to the post office, I do everything myself. I'm still waiting for that magical morning where I wake up to 100 sales in one day. I get excruciatingly frustrated at finding my items buried beneath 10 pages of other hats within minutes of posting them, but I'm not ready to throw in the towel just yet. That's one of the reasons I started this blog. Hopefully by writing about my experiences as an aspiring professional artisan I can figure out what I'm doing right and where I'm going wrong. If I'm lucky, maybe people will even read my ramblings and talk about their own experiences. You know, kind of like a virtual stitch and bitch club.
Next time I post I'll bring a box of wine.
Right now the answer is simple: I crochet. A lot.
I have spent most of my time since taking the bar exam in July working a variety of jobs, some of them fairly demeaning, while looking for a "real" job. When you're sending out enough resumes each day to wallpaper an Upper East Side co-op, sometimes you need to do something that makes you feel good about yourself. I crave activities that make me feel productive. If it involves using my hands to create something beautiful, then it's more likely to help me forget the stressful thoughts that are dancing around in my brain.
While I'm still actively seeking a law job, I am also working hard to make the transition from hobby crafter to professional artisan. As far as I can tell, this transition is largely mental. I've always made art of one kind or another. I majored in it in college and have even had some pieces in small exhibitions. However, my artwork never became compatible with my tiny-apartment lifestyle (let's just say that the term "studio" apartment is a complete misnomer). When a friend first taught me to crochet, I sniffed a bit: I was an artist. This was craft. Make something that people would use and wear? How perfectly plebeian.
But something must have stuck, because I have been crocheting with increasing regularity and (I hope) skill for eight years. When I started making hats as gifts, friends and coworkers encouraged me to start selling them. I opened an online shop on Etsy.com, a marketplace for handmade and vintage items, in January 2009. Like many new Etsy sellers I expected the sales to roll in. I mean, my friends loved my stuff, right? And my prices were reasonable, right? And I always got compliments when I wore my hats around New York City, right?
Well, it turns out that none of those things is enough to create a successful online craft empire.
Etsy is enormous. As of today there are 271,433 active shops, and new shops open every day. Doing business on Etsy boils down to one simple fact: if your work doesn't stand out, you don't make sales. While blogs like the hilarious Regretsy.com poke fun at lackluster Etsy items, most of the work on Etsy is impeccable. Furthermore, gone are the olden days of posting a few dark pictures of your friend wearing that cute necklace you made -- many Etsy sellers now hire professional photographers, models, photo editors, copy writers, and graphic designers to make their shops stand out. Online crafting is big business.
Where do I fit into this? Well, I'm still muddling through nearly two years after opening my shop. With the exception of sending my very patient boyfriend on occasional trips to the post office, I do everything myself. I'm still waiting for that magical morning where I wake up to 100 sales in one day. I get excruciatingly frustrated at finding my items buried beneath 10 pages of other hats within minutes of posting them, but I'm not ready to throw in the towel just yet. That's one of the reasons I started this blog. Hopefully by writing about my experiences as an aspiring professional artisan I can figure out what I'm doing right and where I'm going wrong. If I'm lucky, maybe people will even read my ramblings and talk about their own experiences. You know, kind of like a virtual stitch and bitch club.
Next time I post I'll bring a box of wine.
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