Perfectionism Is the Killer — Here's What to Do Instead

When exactly did people start making stuff in order to chase perfection?

I'm a huge fan of blaming all of society's ills on social media, but this "moment" crafting is having feels like a strike back against the glossy, perfectly curated Instagram feed. Clean Girl – where all you had to do to officially have your life together was complete a 12 step skincare routine, go to the gym 6 days a week, meticulously bullet journal, and drink only green juice – has officially been laid to rest. But we've also already cycled through the retaliatory trends, too: Brat Summer, Indie Sleaze, and now this summer we all just...did what, exactly?

 

For one, craft nights became a thing. Over and over Tiktok was awash with grandma crafts and handmade projects, at-home hangouts punctuated by trinket crafting. We're all feeling the siren's call of using meticulous, handmade projects to bring us back home to ourselves.

Except, social media makes this time look, well, perfect. People who have never touched knitting needles before somehow leave with a glossy, neat scarf. Newbies to polymer clay show off perfectly sculpted, hand painted charms.

As someone who's been teaching sewing and craft classes around the country, I can tell you for a fact that beginner projects never look this Insta-ready on someone's first try. And, like all things online, I think the ruse of perfection is taking an activity folks are using to destress from being chronically online and turning it into, well, a beauty contest.

 

Love these charms – they're seriously gorgeous – but I've never once been able to coax anything similar out of Shrinky Dinks. Mine are always more dink than shrink.

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We get started with crafting because we get inspired and want to make something — a costume to express ourselves, a gift for a loved one, an object that sparks joy. But somewhere along the way, especially in online spaces, the pressure to make something beautiful or flawless can quietly creep in. And suddenly, that pressure becomes a creative block. You don’t even start the project because you’re afraid it won’t be “good enough,” or you're dissatisfied with how your project looks compared to those you see on Pinterest.

 

Spoiler alert: no one’s first project is perfect. Full disclosure, I'm new-ish to cross stitch as a hobby, and my first few projects were, well, ugly. Even though I have years and years of sewing experience (and I run CUT/SEW, which maybe counts for something), my first two or three completed projects had messy backs, sloppy stitches, and I almost always somehow messed up when I was counting stitches. I'm not new to sewing, but I am new to this, and I had to give myself permission to let my project be gross, because at the end of the day, it was still fun.

 

Here’s the thing most people won’t tell you: even the experts mess up. Even the people whose work you admire the most are constantly battling frayed seams, paint smudges, and hot glue regrets. The difference? They just keep going. They trust that every “ugly” craft is part of the process, not a failure. In fact, some of the coolest costumes I’ve seen have looked questionable up close — but they worked. They told a story. They made someone feel powerful. Isn’t that the whole point?

 

Ugly crafts matter because they give you freedom. They’re the sketches before the final painting. The jam sessions before the concert. They’re where you get to try stuff, figure things out, and — this is important — have fun. If you only let yourself make things when they’re guaranteed to turn out great, you’ll miss all the weird little wins along the way. The joy of a too-small plushie. The imperfect chaos of a botched dye job. The beauty of a first attempt.

Obsessed with these little freaks. Handmade to look intentionally ugly, and appropriately named "Fuglers".

 

If you’re new to sewing or cosplay or crafting of any kind, please know this: you’re allowed to make things that are lumpy, crooked, or totally wrong. You’re allowed to laugh at them, share them, wear them anyway. Where the magic happens is when you actually start.

 

So here’s your permission slip: go make an ugly craft. Use the wrong thread. Hot glue it if you need to. Post it. Don’t post it. But make it. Because one ugly project leads to another. And before you know it, you’ve got skills, confidence, and something you made with your own hands. And that's the real point.

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