Sunday, 6 December 2009

Guest post: The Dark Side of Craft

As promised, brain twin and co-craft-conspirator M, has a lot to say on the subject of good craft going very, very bad.



Note to self: when a strange woman off the interweb suggests you team up and attend a craft fair in London, say no.



I woke up last night in sweats from a horrible nightmare. I'd been trying to register to get to our stand at Craftacular, pushing and shoving at the hundreds of other crafters who were trying to steal my spot. The organizer looked me up and down scathingly, making a disobliging remark about my makeup (I was wearing none), suggesting perhaps I ought to get lessons from a professional. "But there isn't time!", I wailed. "Where are your magnets?", she replied. Fuck! The magnets! I rushed back to the office, a tall, impregnable building surrounded by crystalline, crocodile-infested waters. I was running through treacle, my floral apron hanging around my thighs like a lead blanket. "What are you doing?", asked a friend as she emerged from behind a bush. I explained. "A craft fair? In London? That's ridiculous. You don't even know how to drive."



AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH.



This is just the latest installment, the crowning glory of the When Good Craft goes Bad saga. What started out as a harmless hobby has taken over my life. My studio is an obstacle course. Mountains of boxes hang precariously overhead. Unwound spools wait to trip me up. I've been worrying for the past couple of days that I left the iron on when I left.



Home is no better. The kitchen is a disaster zone. I can't remember the last time I cooked a meal, let alone washed a plate. I'm fairly certain I haven't showered since Thursday. I've taken over the sofa, along with two thirds of the living room. Owlinabox is wedged somewhere between two pillows. My boyfriend and I are engaged in a silent battle of wills. He doesn't like me leaving the tiny pair of scissors on the sofa, something about it being sharp and dangerous blablabla, and yet that's where I need it. He moves it to the coffee table. I move it back to my lap. We glare at each other menacingly. He retreats to the bedroom.



Here, let me show you:











Can you feel my pain, interwebs? Can you?


There is still so much to do. There are boxes to be ordered, magnets to be printed, cake stands to be wrapped, clothes rails and table covers to be sourced. There is rude - but elegant! - customer service to be practised. Then the Waffle and I must make our way to London from our respective rainy hinterlands, carrying our body weight in dough and wool and embroidered aprons. There we will meet, haggard and dishevelled, for the final baking marathon.



I have painted a grim picture, but it will all be alright in the end. We are not brain twins for nothing. Our competitive perfectionism will prevail; our stand will be a dazzling display of wit, rudeness, and desirable goods.



Do come and say hello if you are in town on the 12th of December. And maybe buy a thing or two. Fuck you very much in advance.

14 comments:

Mary said...

Can't wait for your Etsy shop! Good luck at Dec 12 sale -- and don't forget to wear comfortable shoes (that goes double for Jaywalker!).
... Between husband and myself, we spent two hours untangling crafts that we thought we had closed up in a room against the cats...at least I know where to go when I want to get a tangled web of thread and felt...
bon courage!

London City Mum said...

Aaaaahhhhh! Cannot believe I will be in another country when this all takes place.

Would have happily stood by under pretext of 'helping', whilst pouncing on potential buyers and harassing them with fervent sales pitch (I am a pro, trust me) until they caved in.

As if they will need such persuasion.

You will be a huge hit. Of that I am sure.

LCM x

teddy said...

i promise to come and buy some of your rude biscuits.. i was hunting for a gift for dad for weeks..
have you told us where this craft fair is yet?

Jaywalker said...

It's at York Hall, Bethnal Green on 12th, from 12 til 7.

Mya said...

Might I suggest you aren't rude to customers until you are safely handing back their change, post-purchase? 'That's twenty, thirty, forty, fifty pounds change, Sir. Now fuck off!'sort of thing... Best of luck - I'm sure it will be a roaring success.
Mya x

Sally said...

I am SO COMING to this. I may even introduce myself.

Kelly said...

I suggest, au contraire, that very very uncomfortable shoes be worn. As the day progressess your level of deliverable fuck you and will increase exponentially with the pain felt by feet. A sure way to keep up the spirit!

M. said...

Kelly. Your comment deserves a high five. HIGH FIVE!

Fat Controller said...

Don't suppose you could move the venue/time to Gatwick Airport South Terminal Arrivals, at about eightish on the Tuesday instead?

Thought not. Have a good time in Bethnal Green anyway.

Kim@EnjoyTheRide said...

I'm SO GLAD you're going to be there. The last one was massively twee and so far removed from what the Bust readership used to be. You seem to be bringing the awesome back

Soda and Candy said...

Aww yeah, profanity in script fonts. Wonderful!

Hodmandod said...

If I arrive, dishevelled with blue stuck on at intervals, having stabbed myself in the eye with a calligraphy pen (don't worry it doesn't see) can I have a salt caramel eclair?

Anonymous said...

...respective rainy hinterlands...

What a spectacularly good turn of phrase....

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