Picture this: 25 adults gathered in a room. A Spotify playlist called “y2k middle school dance except you’re in therapy this time” blasts in the background. Everyone is gluing rhinestones, beads, and miscellaneous sparkly craft materials onto tote bags in a way that can only be described as delightfully feral. Occasionally the hive mind shakes off their laser focus to join the Spice Girls for a chorus of “Wannabe.”
I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no—this is not heaven. This is Shitty Craft Club. And this is a story about how I reconnected with my inner child and helped 250,000 other people do the same.
I started Shitty Craft Club in 2019 when I was creatively burnt out by my 9-to-5 gig. Sitting on the floor of my dark apartment while my cat, Emma Stone, shredded the Ikea couch behind me, I scrolled by a pair of bedazzled sunglasses by designer Rachel Burke. Instantly, I knew I had to make my own pair. So I did.
This next part is cloudy (I blame it on my Virgo planning dream state) but I pitched the event coordinator at New Woman Space, a community-led space in Brooklyn that’s 100% programmed by women, POC, queer and gender non-conforming individuals, and asked if I could start a monthly craft club. A couple days later, we were rolling: I invited a bunch of friends who came to hang out, glue rhinestones to sunglasses, and take really cute pictures together. It was an instant hit. Every month for the next year, we gathered to craft everything from bedazzled denim jackets to floral hats, clay vases, and sparkly wreaths.
Several months into the pandemic I joined TikTok, and this little community quickly transformed into a modestly viral account where I post lightly unhinged craft videos exploring my relationship with perfectionism and doing my best to make art fun again. Now, Shitty Craft Club is a fully published book that I feel like I birthed from my own body.
At its core, Shitty Craft Club is a safe place to tap back into a simpler, sillier, and more uninhibited time of your life—which is exactly why we’re here, hanging out in this article together. So with all that in mind, here are three delightfully shitty crafts that helped me reconnect with my inner child; my glittering hope is that maybe they can do the same for you.
Craft #1: The Chaotique Headband
As a kid, accessories were my thing. I was obsessed with my older cousin’s impressive stack of jangly bangles. I bought 25-cent slap bracelets at every grocery store. Even when it came to my soccer uniforms, I loved adding accessories—elastic headbands embedded in my gelled ponytail, ribbons tied around my gelled ponytail, glitter gel to create my gelled ponytail. You get it.
I went through a headband era as an adult too, but it was subdued, earth-toned, and casual. They lacked any glimmer of joy or pizzazz! Enter the chaotique headband: It’s thick, upholstered with chunks of foil, doused in hot glue, and promptly covered in beads, rhinestones, and pom-poms. This chonky, gorgeous, handmade headband was my first physical foray into wearing shitty craft fashion in public—and it felt glorious.
Wearing it channeled the little version of me who would point at a $150 tiara in a glass case at my grandmother’s hair salon and say, “I probably need that for school?” I’m suddenly back in my basement with an old pink tank top on my head as a stunning veil, playing that definitely real game called “I’m the bride, not you.” It brings me back to the days when I used to wear a neon green rhinestone figure skating costume everywhere I went—grocery store, post office, Weight Watchers—always in my own world. Any anxieties and fears about being perceived were still 20 years in the future.
If any of this resonates, I encourage you to dig through the overflowing basket in your bathroom for that headband you only ever use to separate your bangs from your self-care face mask. Skip over to your local craft or dollar store for some beads and pom-poms. Cover that headband until it’s stacked high with glitzy, puffy, colorful chaos. Pop that sucker on and dance to the “y2k middle school dance except you’re in therapy this time” playlist that is real and ready and waiting for you.
Craft #2: Expand Your Shoeniverse (like universe, but “shoe,” hope that helps!)
Jellies, velcro sneakers, Heelys—I had them all. I don’t know if light-up sneakers have made a comeback for adults, but they should. Kid Sam loved a colorful shoe, a sparkly sandal, a quirky Steve Madden platform, a flip-flop made entirely of puffy foam (?), and Adidas sneakers with the most unique stripe colors available.
I don’t remember when it happened, but at some point in adulthood I realized that the only shoes I owned were unsupportive, uninteresting, neutral ballet flats. And they did not smell good. Ever.
I’m grateful to have grown out of my poisonous fume ballet flat phase, but I want to talk about something I learned in my Shitty Craft travels—you can just glue rhinestones to your shoes. Sandals a little boring? Add rhinestones. Boots a little bland? Add rhinestones! That white pair of sneakers too bright? Add rhimestones! I also learned that you can buy leather paint and make fun shapes on your boots.
In my personal collection, I now have beaded sneakers, Sam-painted cowboy boots, rhinestone Tevas, and sparkly heel boots. No shoe is safe from my crafty vision. All current and future shoes must bring me joy. No more neutrals, you guys! And I am 100000000% certain kid Sam would prefer it that way.
Craft #3: The Beaded Basketball
Remember when I said one of my childhood hobbies was just “sports”?
In the winter of eighth grade I moved to a new city and started fresh at a middle school with what I intended to be an entirely new life and personality. I was no longer a soccer star who dabbled (dribbled) in basketball and lacrosse in her spare time—I was now a singer. Sports were out! My big plan was to become a show choir girl who had never heard of cleats or free throws.
Bored in gym class one day, I was casually sinking three-pointers and half-court shorts when the girl’s basketball coach–slash–gym teacher–slash–sex-ed instructor–slash–probably also the principal approached me with an offer to join the team mid-season. I said “No, but I’ll sing the national anthem at your next game?” And baby, you know I sang that national anthem with the thickest country accent you’ve ever heard (completely by accident). It was a hit. I’m not saying this unique rendition launched my singing career, but I will say I gladly left sports behind in the dust, forgetting it was something I ever loved at all.
Smash cut to 2023.
I’m standing in Dick’s Sporting Goods, ready to purchase a basketball and a soccer ball. How did I get here? I would love to tell you. In the midst of honoring my inner child with sparkly beaded headbands and craft clubs, my partner and I went to our first Angel City FC game in Los Angeles—the women’s soccer team—and my sporty inner child kicked her way out with a vengeance. “Remember me, self? The girl who wanted to be Mia Hamm and loved going to ’76ers games and cared more about wearing those Adidas slides to school than learning? Yeah, we’re bringing all of that back with a regulation-size beaded basketball that will definitely not be able to bounce.”
There are a couple ways you could go about crafting a regulation-size beaded basketball that will definitely not be able to bounce. You could, of course, use an actual basketball as your base, but I’m not entirely sure how well hot-glued beads stick to leather. Or you could do what I did, which was spend an entire hour creating a basketball out of my favorite household material: aluminum foil. I’d like to acknowledge that the piercing crunch of foil won’t be everyone’s favorite sound to hear for a full hour. And I cannot stress enough that making a regulation-size basketball craft requires much more foil than you’d ever expect. Then, once you have a solid collection of beads you’d like to use, prepare for many hours of hot gluing. Am I making this sound fun? I hope so, because it is—if you’ve ever enjoyed kitschy items, organizing files, and alone time, this is a perfect craft for you. And yes, this one takes a while, but when your creation starts to look like a real basketball, your inner child will do a perfectly sloppy joy cartwheel on the front lawn of your brain.
Sports, singing, crafts, theater, comedy, wearing sparkly stuff—I am thrilled to be honoring my inner child, watching every version of her mingle at the cocktail party that is my life. With every shitty craft I make, Kid Sam is right there—reminding me to play, to make art that’s just for me, and at the very least, to just fucking create something. Because when we’re dealing with shitty crafts, it’s not important that it’s perfect—it’s important that you made it. That, my friends, is a Sam dunk.
