Why I Don’t Follow Trends as a Handmade Business

I’ve never been very good at following trends.

Not in quilting. Not in knitting. Not in business. Not even in the way I photograph things or write online.

And honestly? I think that’s one of the best things about my work.

For a long time, I thought I was doing something wrong because of it. I’d watch trends explode online — the colours everyone suddenly used, the same style of photography repeated over and over, the same products being launched by different makers with slightly different fabric prints/cuts/shapes etc. And while some of it was beautiful, I always felt strangely disconnected from it.

Like I was standing outside of a conversation that everyone else understood. Which, BTW, doesn’t always feel good, especially when you want to be included in the herd.

But over time, I started realizing something important:

The work I make lasts longer when it comes from a real place.

Not a trend forecast.
Not panic.
Not “what’s selling right now.”
Not trying to keep up.

Just genuine curiosity. Genuine love. Genuine connection.

Some of my favourite things I’ve ever made would probably never be considered trendy. Traditional quilt blocks. 2 colour themes. Slow hand quilting. Slightly imperfect seams. Things inspired by old feed sacks, cabins, heritage sewing, worn-in utility, old country songs, and the feeling of something being useful for a very long time.

That kind of work doesn’t usually go viral.

But it stays with people.

And honestly, I think it helps me stand out in a sea of sameness too.

When everyone is chasing the same aesthetic, the same viral trend, the same “must-have” colour palette and fabric prints of the month/year, everything starts blending together. You scroll past it and can barely tell one brand from another anymore. And I think that’s a little sad. Where are you/WHO are you in your work???

I never wanted that for my work.

I want people to recognize my work because it feels like it came from an actual human being with a point of view — not from an algorithm.

I think trends can sometimes create this pressure to constantly reinvent yourself before your own ideas have even had time to breathe. Suddenly everyone is pivoting, changing aesthetics, abandoning things they genuinely loved because the algorithm got bored for five seconds.

That pace doesn’t feel creative to me.

It feels exhausting and unfulfilling. And, dare I say, soul-less.

Some of the most meaningful work I’ve created happened because I stopped paying attention to what was popular and started paying attention to what felt true.

That shift changed everything.

Instead of asking:
“What are people buying right now?”

I started asking:
“What do I actually want to make?”
“What kind of work would still feel beautiful to me five years from now?”
“What would I make if nobody was watching?” (This is a big one; don’t underestimate its impact on your work.)

Those questions led me somewhere much more honest.

I think when creatives stop chasing trends, their work becomes more recognizable too. Not because it’s louder — but because it’s theirs.

You can feel when someone makes something from a place of sincerity instead of strategy alone.

There’s a steadiness to it.

A fingerprint.

And I think people are craving that more than ever right now.

We’re living in a time where everything moves incredibly fast. Content is disposable. Products are disposable. Even creativity can start feeling disposable if we’re not careful.

So I’ve become really protective of making things slowly.

Not because I’m against growth or success. Of course I want my businesses to succeed. Of course I want people to buy what I make. Of course I desperately want my mortage paid.

But I don’t want to build something that requires me to constantly abandon myself in order to keep it alive.

I’ve done this in the past and it caused a major depression, which is why I’m preaching all this now.

I’d rather create work that feels deeply aligned — even if it grows more slowly.

Because trends fade.

But authentic work carries history inside it.

It carries personality.
Memory.
Taste.
Experience.
Heartbreak.
Comfort.
Humour.
Obsessions.
Quiet little details no trend forecaster could ever predict.

That’s the stuff people actually connect to.

And truthfully, I think the older I get, the less interested I am in trying to impress people — and the more interested I am in making things that feel honest. Your 40’s are great for this!

Things that feel like me.

That’s where the good work lives.

Not in chasing everyone else.

But in paying attention to your own voice long enough to recognize it when it finally arrives.

Until next time,
XOXO Kim