"I Didn’t Choose the Shop Drop Life, the Shop Drop Life Chose Me (And It’s Toxic)”
Reflections shop drops, hustle culture, and the invisible labor behind launches.
Does a shop drop always have to be a circus?
I love being a maker. Sourcing fabrics, finding nifty notions, and then turning them into wearable and functional items for other people? Truly the best. However with it comes the performative circus part that has been challenging for me to navigate, and I don’t think makers talk about it nearly enough. All across the socials you see joyful reels of “behind the scenes” featuring perfectly curated studios and smiley makers.
Reality check- this is partially fake. I’m never not happy being at my sewing machine, but there’s a lot of invisible emotional and physical labor that goes into a shop drop. Like the entire weekend I lost because I had to travel to different friends' houses to take photos of all my stuff, or the several hours I spent editing said photos. (hooray for amazing community)
Or how I spent Monday before my launch hunched sitting like a gremlin at my computer simultaneously writing product descriptions while listening to a professional development training for my other business because who the heck makes enough money being a maker to just BE a maker??
It got me thinking do launches have to be this damn hard?
I noodled it around in my head, talked to my lovely business coach, had coffee with friends, and I think the answer is NOPE.
Here’s why, and how I’m moving to change it.
Hustle culture in the Maker community
This most recent drop I went from feeling insanely proud of the work I did to get the shop up and running, to feeling bummed that I “only sold” a handful of what I put out there. Pride and feeling like a loser aren’t emotions that mix well together in our bodies and brains, and cause a bit of cognitive dissonance that feels..well..icky.
We can blame that on hustle culture in the maker community. It’s hard not to compare yourself to others based on how much you sell when you only see a very curated aspect of another maker’s business. Karen (why is it always Karen’s stuff?!) online might say she sells out, but her cost of goods could be way off, she could have 20 friends she trades goods with, or a team she pays to do all her advertising.
Who knows.
The whole idea of shop drops feeds into the idea that my worth as a maker is linked to my output and if I sell out. It’s not sustainable, for anyone, and honestly kinda fucks with my brain.
I used to see this when I directed a residential program. The hustle comparison. The belief that if you say yes to staying late you care about the program. The idea that if you are on call 24/7 and come in even when you are sick makes you the best clinician or staff member. The way that upper management would praise folks who did these things, and then ostracize those that set boundaries and protected their peace was incrediby toxic. Yet, I see this theme crop up outside of that residential life. It can crop up in nearly any work place environment because our society rewards hustle culture, and it’s only been recently that there has been talk of how that doesnt work and isnt’ sustainable.
Often at the Makery I run into folks who are other makers. I love this aspect because it allows me to have community and stay in touch with folks in person versus just on instagram or at events. One lovely maker asked me which Holiday Markets I was doing. When I shared that I’m just doing Good Trade Makers Market in Burlington this year, they audibly gasped and then expressed the following things:
“It’s the busiest time of the year, how will you sell your stuff”
“Aren’t you afraid of missing out:
“I could never do that”
Did I have half a second of doubt and anxiety when these questions were posed to me? Yes…but here’s the thing. It’s not written in stone that I have to do business that way. I’m fortunate enough that I have a variety of things I do that sustain me (personally and professionally), it’s through this privilege that I can slow down, adjust, and explore more sustainable ways of doing business that work for me and my balance.
You might be thinking, “Hey Jess 👋, why did you open a business if you hate selling stuff?” Good question.
I don’t actually hate selling stuff. I just want to take steps to do it in a sustainable way that doesn’t feed into hustle culture.
I want you to buy pieces because they speak to you, not because you got 800 million emails and dancing reels from me telling you to “Consume! Consume! Consume!”.
Surviving not thriving.
I’ve been chewing on this a lot—burnout is the special of the day. In the maker community and in my therapy work, most folks I talk to already have overflowing emotional plates. No wonder we need to push back from the table and rethink what we’re actually serving up in our lives and work.
Almost every time I ask a maker how they are doing I get a similar answer of “oh ya know, surviving”. Which is the opposite of why I started creating. I started creating because I had the survival part down and wanted to be THRIVING. I wanted to nurture my creative parts because they balance me out.
Being creative makes me a better therapist, a better friend & partner, and overall a better human. I’m more balanced and inspired when I create.
So hearing my maker friends say “oh ya know surviving” is depressing. It doesn’t have to be this way.
Reflection for Makers
If you’re nodding along to the whole “surviving, not thriving” vibe, here are a few questions you might sit with:
How do I know when I’ve slipped from thriving into surviving in my business?
Which parts of my creative process feel nourishing, and which feel like a grind?
Am I saying yes to things (markets, drops, collabs) that actually align with my values — or just because I feel like I “should”?
What would my business look like if it were designed to sustain me first?
Take a moment to jot down your answers, or talk them out with a trusted friend. Sometimes naming the tension is the first step toward reimagining how we work. And if emailing them to me feels good, go for it!
Sustainable Selling
So what does sustainable selling look like? If I don’t schedule shop drops and do the performative circus, how am I going to market my super dope shirts and dresses and pillows and eyemasks and bags?!
If I don’t upload a million reels and do all the markets, how am I going to sell goods?
If I don’t hustle will I disappear?
I talked about the disappearing part in my last blog post, and my most recent drop and email engagement has shown that I didn’t disappear. People still know I exist, and still want to wear Paper Crane Theory. So I’m going to roll with that.
No more scheduled drop updates. No more pushing myself hard and doing all the things involved in an update at once. Instead I’m going to be updating the shop on a rolling basis. Creating pieces a little at a time throughout the month and updating the shop as those pieces are created.
There will still be emails about updates to the shop.
There will still be instagram posts and reels.
There will still be markets and holiday sales.
BUT…
It will be done on a smaller scale that allows me to take care of myself and run my business in an intentional way that allows me to thrive.
That allows you, my lovely followers, to have the ability to access and purchase items when you feel like you want to and are ready to. It removes the idea that you HAVE to consume because who knows when the next update will be.
That feels more in alignment with me and with my sustainable small clothing business.
At the end of the day, this shift isn’t about doing less—it’s about doing differently. I want my business to reflect the same values I hold in the rest of my life: care, balance, and creativity. If that means fewer circus-style launches and more quiet, steady making, then that’s the path forward. My hope is that this way of working not only sustains me, but also invites you into a slower, more intentional way of connecting with the pieces I create. After all, thriving should be on the table for all of us.