This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at UCLA chapter.
I was thirteen when my grandmother gifted me my very first sewing machine—a Singer Fashion Mate. It was sleek, powerful, and far more advanced than the novice hand-stitching my grandmother had taught me earlier in my life. I remember the thrill of threading it for the first time, the hum of the motor beneath my hands as I practiced stitching over pinned scraps of fabric. With that hunk of machine, I learned to stitch costumes for my dolls, tailor clothes, and bring my creative visions to life. Though my seams were crooked, and my stitches uneven, my grandmother continued to praise my effort as if I had spun gold. It was impossible not to fall in love with the silky fabrics, glittering rhinestones, and the magic of turning raw materials into something beautiful. Which is where Joann Fabrics entered my life.
Joann Fabrics was my wonderland. As I grew, so did my obsession with crafting. Sewing was just the beginning. I graduated to rhinestoning, gluing, feathering, and costuming. Whether I was putting together an extravagant burlesque ensemble or fixing a last-minute costume emergency, Joann’s had everything I needed. It was my sanctuary (an expensive one, but you get the point).
And now, it’s leaving.
This announcement hit like a gut punch. Joann’s, the place that had fueled my imagination for years, is closing stores across the country. I had to see it for myself.
As I walked into the store, I could feel the weight of nostalgia settle on my shoulders. The bright blue and yellow “STORE SALE 20-40 Percent Off” signs screamed from every aisle, a bittersweet reminder that my creative safe space was being dismantled. However, I for one, will never turn down a bargain. So, I made my way to the bead aisle, which was in utter disarray, half-empty, a sad echo of the endless options I once sifted through to find the perfect embellishments. While I do love a good discount, the energy of the store was completely changed, like a ghost of what it once was.
Nonetheless, if this was the end, I was going to take full advantage of it. With a sense of urgency, I grabbed a cart and began piling it high with rhinestones, ribbons, embroidery floss, fake flowers, fabric by the yard (if it glittered, shimmered, or could be hot glued onto a corset, it was coming home with me). I picked up things I didn’t even need, because who knows when I’d be able to find them again? A hundred yards of tulle? Sure. An entire bolt of emerald green velvet? Why not! Enough sequins to blind an audience from space? Essential. While my mind was telling me that I was going overboard, my crafting heart was in mourning and who am I to deny myself a bit of retail therapy?
Look, I’m not devastated because I fear not being able to get crafting supplies. I know that plenty of outlets still exist. The real tragedy behind these closing stores is the general decline of crafting at large. It’s not just Joann’s, but rather the loss of the culture around making things yourself (and for fun, I might add). Our world has become one of convenience, where fast fashion replaces handmade clothing, where pre-packaged decorations take the place of something unique and personal. Fewer people are learning to sew, to bead, to stitch, to glue. Schools have slashed home economics programs. Crafting has become a niche hobby rather than an everyday skill.
But we don’t have to let it disappear.
Joann’s may be closing its doors, but the spirit of crafting doesn’t live in a store. It lives in the hands of those who refuse to stop making art. It lives in every uneven stitch, every glued-on rhinestone, every carefully arranged feather. It’s in the late-night costume disasters, the thrill of finally finishing a project, the pride of wearing something you created yourself. So, if there is one thing that you can take from reading this article, it’s to keep crafting! Learn to sew. Pick up a glue gun. Try embroidery. Maybe even beading, or wood carving. Make something, anything, with your own two hands. In a world that values mass production and disposability, there is something so very radical about taking the time to craft.
Goodbye, Joann’s. Thank you for the childhood memories, the countless late-night costume crises you helped me survive, and the endless joy of creation. You may be closing, but the legacy of crafting will live on in the hearts and minds of the crafters you have helped over the years. To crafting everywhere!
