To Market, To Market: An Experiment in Failure

This year has marked my first ven­ture into “selling stuff”, instead of just “selling myself”. It’s been a little hit-and-miss: my Valen­tines seemed pop­ular (they were listed on Ooh! Shiny! and in the Etsy blog, and I’ve heard loads of pos­i­tive feed­back), which was immensely exciting, but they didn’t sell like mad. (They didn’t really even sell like slightly-unusual.)

First lesson learned: just because you make some­thing that people like, doesn’t mean that people will actu­ally buy it.

This weekend, at a friend’s sug­ges­tion, I booked a booth at a local farmer’s market. For only $60, it seemed like a wildly clever busi­ness idea. How could I pos­sibly NOT make a fortune?

Well, not only did I not make a for­tune, but I actu­ally didn’t sell a single card, unless you count the one that I traded a book­seller for a tat­tered copy of The Slang of Sin. There were quite a few people who came by and told me how much they liked them, and one person even asked how much they cost (they were next to a sign that listed prices, but that seems irrelevant).

“I just don’t get it! Are my cards not pretty enough? Why does nobody love me?”

Midway through day two of sit­ting behind a booth, bored to tears and trying des­per­ately not to leap on everyone who walked past, I real­ized that nobody would ever buy one. What was I doing wrong?

Second lesson learned: research your market.

Of course, I didn’t think to look around me, but once I did, I real­ized what I had done wrong–I’d come to the wrong place entirely. It wasn’t even so much that people weren’t buying from me, as it was that they weren’t buying from anyone. I’m still not quite sure how anyone at that market sells enough to make a profit, but per­haps they did better in other parts. The busy bits seemed to be the “food court” and the flea market tables.

Had I done my research and actu­ally vis­ited this market prior to com­mit­ting an entire weekend to it, I may have had a little more luck with it.

The charming Miss Laver­dure kept me com­pany, and helped fill my table, on the first day. I doubt I would have sur­vived the weekend oth­er­wise. (She’s also an excel­lent nego­tiator, whereas I just giggle and act like a moron.)

Third lesson learned: bring a book.

I forgot how boring it can be sit­ting around waiting for cus­tomers that never appear.

Fourth lesson learned: Don’t take it personally.

It was midway through that second day that I started really doubting myself. Four hours seemed like for­ever away, and, while I knew that I wouldn’t be selling any­thing that day, I was deter­mined to stick it out ’til the better end. Prior to that point, my abysmal failure hadn’t gotten me down. I kept having to remind myself that the whole affair was an exper­i­ment, and that it’s okay to fail. (Not that I plan on making a habit of it.)

Appar­ently showing a little cleavage doesn’t even help matters.

Fifth lesson learned: stores will sell your things FOR you if you just ask nicely.

Thanks, Duly Noted and Love, Me! Not only is it totally exciting to think that things I made are in a real-live shop, now I get to stay home and make more!

Tags: business, handmade