I love attending craft shows. Peter Pan shirt collars made from vintage lace, wristlets screen-printed with ironic hipster phrases and owl-shaped organic soaps - what's not to love? It's all very whimsical and la-dee-dah. Cutesy joy.
Now as for selling at craft shows? Loathe it. Vomit. Je deteste.
Of course any craft show that I've sold my candles at in the past, I've had to sign up for. So it can only be a subtle form of masochism that drives me to repeatedly put myself in these situations. I'm always hopeful at the beginning of a new craft show venture, then quickly spiral into a what-did-I-get-myself-into dark inner monologue that lasts right up until the moment the show begins.
This Friday and Saturday I hop on the emotional merry-go-round yet again. I applied for the Heirlooms Artisan Show about three months ago and, don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful and proud to have been accepted into my first juried show. In fact, I'd been eagerly counting down the days until June 14th... but now that the week is upon me I'm swimming in a sea of belly butterflies, engulfed by painful memories of last year's craft show season that failed to live up to my wild expectations. I had a few very solid, successful shows but also some major flops that bruised the ego.
So rather than over think my product, display or sales pitch this time around, my goal is to keep it simple. I've learned that staying up until 2 a.m. the night before obsessing over every little detail will get you nowhere except super bitchy the next morning when you're supposed to be perky, happy, super craft show joy joy.
I spent about 30 minutes tonight laying painter's tape on the kitchen floor, mapping out my tentative display and I'm happy with the simplicity of it.
The dog seemed mildly interested in my setup but quickly fell asleep about five minutes in. Should I be offended? Or maybe the excitement of it all tuckered her out. Yes, that must be it.
Off to make more candles.