I decided to blog about why handmade is so expensive. I prefer the term handmade, because "homemade" sounds like paper, cardboard, duct tape and stitch witchery (google it). Not the efficient craft it actually is. Its handmade, y'all.
First, let's start with a price. Let's say you order baby bedding from my shop. We start the process with google search engines and carefully worded etsy listings. If you don't spend time overall on the whole look and wording of the shop, nobody cares what you have for sale. Countless hours are spent browsing other ideas, finding a unique spin on an overdone product. Between the work spent on your demo set, including supplies, and trying to find the right way to take a photo of it, its a hefty process, not for the non-committed.
Next, after you've selected the right person for your personal project (price + availability) you begin discussing options. In the world of custom, there are TONS of options. Color? Length? Box pleat? Pattern play? Thread color? Applique? Stuffed or bumper pads? This is really only the tip of the iceberg. The negotiations can become weary when you meet the picky customer, who knows exactly what she wants but can't articulate. You draw. You sometimes send color options, and search thousands of fabric listings. You describe the different fabric choices, how they'll hold up, and what's worked in the past. You answer thousands of questions, because you're a people pleaser with a creative art, and without the customer, you do nothing. And as always, you do it with a cheerful disposition. Nobody buys again or refers cranky sellers. Nobody.
After the hours of back and forth email, you've agreed upon that perfect set look. So you create a listing and wait for the customer to purchase, because smart you, you recall the customer that fell upon hard times and simply couldn't pay for the custom work you spent countless hours skillfully crafting their dream for. Sometimes you wait a week. Sometimes you wait a month, until their husband provides a nod of approval, which is more like the wife prying life from his weathered hands (you'd think, the way some husbands guffaw at this process). And if it floats out there in that lonely online space, having never been loved enough to let go and move forward, you lose 20 cents for the listing itself. And a short amount of pride for the time you've already invested. These instances, quite frankly, damage your craft ego (did you know you have a craft ego? "nobody likes my stuff", "nobody understands the price", "am I wasting my time?", "do they know the difference between handmade and homemade?", "what am I doing with my life?")
Once this process makes it through the affirmation phase, you order supplies. And by order supplies, I mean maybe one thing. The rest is now up to a carefully chosen gamble between where you spend this precious money. Is it cheaper at JoAnn's? What's on sale at Hobby Lobby this week? Do I still have that coupon? How many days until I can withdraw the money I had to transfer to my bank? (3. The answer is 3. Business days. Possibly 5. Minus the fee for the listing and taking care of your sweet little transaction.) "If I stop by the Walmarts for the fifth time today, I'll have to remember to grab that because its less expensive. gahh I wish I had learned that sooner. I could have saved myself $3 every set for the past two years. How much would that be? If I have had 73 transactions, and maybe half of them were for bedding sets...I would have three ice creams. Because that's what I said I would get for my kids for being good. I wonder if they have new organic foods? They've been doing so well about reading what the consumers in our area really want. More options. Did I switch the laundry to the dryer? Shoot. Now my husband doesn't have pants for work." (because this is how it works, you don't have the precious commodity to commit all your thoughts to one project for more than 20 minutes.) And whatever you have left after bargaining with the chain stores for supplies, is what you actually make. Because prices fluctuate. And you don't have time to run to each store just to compare prices.
You lug your kids in, they run like little wild banshees, and not the little ladies they are, upon receiving death threat stares from mom it seems to only encourage them (hey, I'm already getting a spanking!). You feel awful, but you simply must concentrate or you will have to try this exact same trip again tomorrow. So you let them squeeze in between the fleece bolts, flip through pattern books, knock over button displays, and run through the freestanding bolt sections playing tag until their sour disposition takes over and they are no longer having fun...they are having a meltdown because its lunch time and you've just got to squeeze in this stop before driving home for the day (of course you don't just live 10 minutes away from the closest hobby lobby. You live 40 minutes away because you and your husband wanted solitude and you never considered factoring in the closest fabric store into your home search). At the register they are hysterical over carefully placed tiny stuffed animals and candy, you're doing the calculations in your head and trying to find that online coupon, trying your hardest to speak in loving tones because the grandma behind you talks about how children are precious cherubs and should be held close to your heart, lest you blink and they're gone and married like hers now are. (honestly you're trying to remember how many spankings you doled out to each kid for misbehaving and poor attitudes. You know you must follow through or that article you read will prove how spineless you actually are and how you're raising adult hellions, contributing to poverty, and lowering the nation's testing scores (You didn't know all of this trickled down from lack of discipline, ehh?)
After a smooth checkout ("No, we aren't buying gum." "No, we can't have the ponies directly beside the cash registers at your eye level." "We aren't buying candy. Yes. You HAVE had it before. Stop saying "I Never.."") we then cry because someone else opened the automatic doors before us, then crumple one by one into the car. Because it is lunch time, and mother planned poorly, she swings through Chic-Fil-A drive through for a sub par lunch of little nutrition, and water because she's absolutely no fun and will not buy sprite or chocolate milk. Wind flying hair wildly, country music up so as to keep everyone within their own minds to keep from blurting out every grouchy comment. I am beside myself as we arrive home, commanding my little ducks as they mechanically remove trash and toys, far past ready for nap time. Then of course, there's the matter of sorting out the schedule for cutting, which can take up to two hours, then sewing, which is anywhere between 8 and 12 hours, depending on how intricate. Of course, I have a mild form of OCD AND ADD, so this process is painfully long, as every process must be absolutely correct before moving on...and there's the process of packaging and shipping often done at the post office, where I am sure the older gentleman who sees me so often feels I am a rude, hurried customer, much like all of my generation and those after me. There is a small amount of displeasure I must endure there, but only 1/3 of the time, as there are usually two other workers at the post office I frequent.
It is likely one would ask at some point, "Why?" To which, I can only answer, "Because I love this. Because I simply MUST have a creative outlet. Because I love costume jewelry, and shoes, and helping to pay for dance/gymnastics classes, and rain boots for tiny feet. Because, I am helping people who are excited for each precious life, who are celebrating it by adoration in gifts, who simply cannot do this themselves, and because I know that for them, this is worth it."
And, what is learned talent, if you cannot share it? Creativity is a gift to the world, and I am just a catalyst. I play a small part in what is certainly a precious celebration of life, freedom, love. And when a great plan comes together and is completed, in this case especially, everyone wins. Trust me, you are a blessing to me as much as my craft is a blessing to you. #sappymoments
