The Crafty Bastards Arts and Crafts Fair is going to take place in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of D.C. on October 2, a scant two and a half weeks away. This is a well-known fair in these parts and beyond, bringing together tons of super-talented vendors from all over the dang place. For me, it is exciting because I will be sharing a booth at said craft fair with my great friend of many years who co-invented a tres flattering dress called the Coralilie. But it is even more momentous than that, as it is the first time I will be in any craft fair at all. So I am completely freaking out.
Aside from ignoring my children, spouse, dog, household, and job so that I can hole up in my dining/sewing room and develop carpal tunnel, I am just becoming more and more aware by the hour that I have no idea what I am doing. Sure, I have been to my share of craft fairs, being the craft-fair-loving gal that I am, but I am such a stranger to on-the-ground selling. I couldn't even hold down a job at the Disney Store when I was 16. I am planning to bring about 800 items and see what people like. As I am planning to do this, the words of Jen Menkhaus, whose wonderful work I admired at Pile o' Craft in Baltimore is ringing in my ears--to streamline your offerings, thus preventing your guileless customer from wandering off in an overwhelmed haze. But it does seem like a good opportunity for me, as the seller, to actually see with my own two eyes how people react to my work. Maybe they will think, "What, no owls? No mustaches? I'm outta here." Maybe they will think, "This beautiful youngish lady is just the person to write that book my publishing house has been looking to put out." Maybe they will think, "Why is this vendor staring at me as I look through her things?"
Oh, and if anyone I work with/for is reading this, just kidding about ignoring my job. Have you seen my sewing scissors?