Craft Fair Confessions: Funny Lessons From Selling Handmade (The Bits Nobody Tells You)

What It's Really Like Selling at UK Craft Fairs 😅

Selling handmade at UK craft fairs? It’s basically extreme sport for introverts. Gazebo dramas, forgotten cable ties, customers shouting “HOW MUCH?!” like you’ve personally offended them – and that’s before lunch.

But honestly? It’s also where some of the best stories happen.

The Setup Olympics 🏋️♀️

I absolutely could not do outdoor craft fairs without my long-suffering brother. He helps carry everything, wrestle the gazebo into submission, and pretends not to regret agreeing to help me (again) – while I mutter darkly about the weather and forgetting the cable ties 🙄.

Every fair starts with multiple trips back and forth to the car, lugging boxes, bags, and a gazebo that seems to get heavier every year. My stall layout was mentally planned for weeks — but ten minutes in, all plans are out the window. One display stand is wobbly, the tablecloth’s creased beyond help, and the box of essentials? Left at home. Obviously.

By the time I’m finally set up, sweaty and slightly feral, I’m ready for a nap – and the fair hasn’t even opened yet 😅.

The Weather Lottery ☔

Craft fair weather forecast: drizzle with a 90% chance of your gazebo taking off like Mary Poppins ☂️.

Outdoor fairs? An adventure all of their own. One minute you’re basking in gentle spring sunshine, the next you’re frantically chasing your business cards down a gravel path. Gazebo clips? Check. Sandbags? Check. Emergency tarpaulin that doubles as a cape? Check. And yet, the wind still wins 🌬️.

I’ve stood ankle-deep in mud watching passersby huddle under umbrellas like it’s a scene from Les Mis 🎭. I’ve also been sunburnt in April and frozen in August. Welcome to the glamorous world of British craft fairs.

The Classic Comments 🎤

Some things you just know you’re going to hear at every single craft fair. They make me smile every time 😆.

"Is this all handmade or do you have a machine that does it for you?"

(Yep, just me and my army of androids sewing away in the shed 🤖.)

"My friend’s got a sewing machine – I’ll have to tell her about you!"

(Thank you... I think?)

"You must be VERY proud of this!?"

(Usually said right after flipping over the price tag... er... and your point is?)

"I suppose it keeps you busy, doesn’t it?"

(Because goodness knows I’d be lost without something to fill my empty, empty days 🙃.)

"Bet you save a fortune making your own things!"

(Let me introduce you to the concept of time... and fabric prices 💸.)

But my personal favourite? When a customer forgets I'm within earshot and says to her friend, "Oh Mary look at this, it's absolutely beautiful!" – then flips the tag over, sees the price, and practically shouts "JESUS CHRIST!" before dropping it like it just burnt her fingers 😂.

Holding Your Nerve on Pricing 💸

And here’s the part nobody really warns you about: holding your nerve on pricing.

Because when someone flips over a price tag, gasps like they’ve just seen their electricity bill ⚡, and scurries off clutching their Primark handbag for comfort – well, let’s just say it takes a certain level of inner calm not to start doubting everything you've ever made.

But here’s the thing, the thing I constantly have to remind myself – your price isn’t expensive. It’s just not for everyone. And that’s absolutely fine.

Not every customer understands what goes into making things by hand. They see a bag. You see hours of work, careful stitching, wrestling with the iron (again), and possibly a lot of unpicking that made you wonder what possessed you. If you’ve ever picked up one of my embroidered notebook covers, you’ll know exactly what I mean — they don’t just appear overnight. You can see them here.

The really hard bit? When the stall opposite you is selling vaguely similar items for about half your price. And their sign says "Handmade with love" and you're pretty sure it should also say "Handmade with love (and absolutely no profit margins whatsoever)" 💀.

But here’s what I’ve learned (mostly by trial, error, and the odd quiet meltdown when nobody's looking):

• Some people sell for hobby prices.
• Some people underprice because they’re new or nervous. (I did it too.)
• And some people won’t last long once they realise you can’t keep a business going on nice comments, polite nods, and someone reminiscing about their nan's sewing machine from 1953 like it’s about to pay your electricity bill.

You are not competing with mass-produced, throwaway bags from the high street. The bags I bring to fairs aren’t churned out on a factory line — each one is handmade and genuinely unique. You can see some of them here. Your customers are the people who appreciate the time, skill and uniqueness that goes into your work. People who want something a little bit special. People who love a good story behind what they buy.

And those are the customers worth waiting for.

If you're still figuring out how to price your handmade products confidently (without second-guessing yourself every five minutes), this guide from Recoverie breaks it down really well: Pricing Handmade Items: Strategies for Creative Entrepreneurs. It's practical, realistic, and won’t make you feel like you're reading a maths textbook.

The Very Loud, Very Confident Vendor 🔊

There is usually at least one at every craft fair. You know the one I mean. The Very Loud, Very Confident Vendor.

They’ve got their sales pitch down to a fine art. Rehearsed. Repetitive. Loud enough to be heard from the car park. And by the time you’ve heard it for the 27th time that morning, you’re seriously considering fashioning earplugs out of leftover wadding 🧵.

Now, I personally don’t like that kind of selling. I find it a bit pushy, a bit relentless... borderline customer-wrangling. It feels almost like bullying. But here’s the thing:

They’re usually the busiest stall at the fair.

Why? Because they are naturally bloody good at selling. Loud, confident, and utterly fearless. I'm never quite sure whether to admire them... or cringe quietly behind my bunting. There’s often a little voice in my head whispering that they’re probably looking down their nose at me, like I’m some kind of quiet little hobbyist who accidentally wandered in with the grown-ups. (All in my head. Probably. Mostly.)

Me, on the other hand? Well, I rehearse what I’m going to say. I plan little conversation openers. I practice my friendly small talk. And then… well, then I panic and blurt out something completely ridiculous like:

"Oh what a gorgeous baby! Did you have him naturally?"

Yep. I actually said that. To a complete stranger.

Why am I like this?! 🤪

So these days, I’ve adopted a new approach: smile, say hello, and then let the customer lead the conversation. No awkward blurting. No accidental over-sharing. Just friendly, low-pressure browsing space.

Work in progress? Absolutely. But at least I haven’t accidentally asked anyone about their birth plan since 🙈.

The 4 Types of Craft Fair Customer 👥

1. The Speed Walker 🏃♀️

They enter with purpose. You spot them weaving through stalls like they’re on a timed mission. Their arms are clamped down, their gaze is fixed straight ahead, and they absolutely do not want to talk to anyone. They came for the cake stall and they’re not messing about.

2. The Silent Browser 👻

They drift in like mist. You smile. Nothing. You offer a friendly hello. Still nothing. They pick something up. You lean in hopefully. They gently place it back down and float away. No purchase. No eye contact. No evidence they were ever really there. Like a craft fair ghost.

3. The One Who Talks To You Like You’re 107 🧓

Every fair has one. Sometimes several. Usually lovely, always chatty, often slightly deaf. They will speak to you for 20 minutes and you will learn about:

• Their cousin’s cat’s leg operation
• Their wartime sewing machine
• The price of milk in 1963

They will not buy anything. But they will fill a quiet hour better than any podcast.

4. The Unicorn 🦄

Rare. Glorious. Practically mythical.

The Unicorn is that customer who casually picks up whatever takes their fancy, doesn’t even glance at the price tag, and then nonchalantly hands over their credit card like tapping the card machine themselves would be far too vulgar. They are in and out like a dream, leaving you slightly dazed and wondering if they were even real and if the stars align (and they happen to Google you later), they might even find your website!

Sympathy Buying from Fellow Stallholders 💜

And then there’s the unspoken rule of craft fairs: the Sympathy Buy.

We’ve all done it. You’ve clocked that poor stallholder a few rows down. Lovely set-up. Beautiful products. Not a single customer all day. And because you know exactly how that feels, you can’t help but have a little wander over.

Before you know it, you’ve handed over a tenner for a knitted cactus, or a lavender-filled sock mouse, or a pair of earrings you’re not entirely sure you can pull off. But hey — it’ll make a Christmas present for someone - usually Auntie Margaret. Until you remember, about halfway back to your stall, that Auntie Margaret doesn’t even have pierced ears 🙃.

Ah well. It's the thought that counts.

The Aftermath 🎭

Some days you don’t even cover the cost of your stall fee. That bit stings. Especially when you get home, empty your pockets, and realise your total takings for the day is basically a handful of loose change, two safety pins and half a flapjack.

But if a few people picked up a business card? That’s still a win. You showed up. You got your name out there. You gave people a chance to see and feel your work in real life — and that’s something the internet just can’t replicate.

Despite everything — the weather tantrums, the forgotten cable ties, the classic comments — there is nothing quite like someone picking up something you’ve made and saying, “This is beautiful.” That moment makes it all worth it. Every single time.

You pack up tired, yes. But also proud. You did this. You showed up. You made a tiny pop-up shop from thin air and filled it with things born from your brain and your hands ✨.

Would I Do It All Again? 🎉

Honestly, would I do it all again? Absolutely.

Would I bring snacks next time? 100% yes.

And maybe some cable ties 😉