End of an Era

This is heartbreaking!

That's the phrase I kept turning over in my mind, walking through the aisles of my local Jo-Ann Fabrics. The same big, bright signs plastered anywhere visible:

"Store Closing"

"All Sales Final"

I honestly don't remember when I first set foot into a Joann's, though I can confidently guess the time frame: I would have been around 13 or 14 years old, and it was most likely a Birthday-Shopping-Trip courtesy of my Aunt Norma. After starting this ritual when I was about 11-years-old, and armed with intimate knowledge of my love of handiwork, I'm more than 110% positive that it was she who first introduced me to the retail chain.

One that would become my go-to supplier as I started building my own little cottage industry several years later.

Though I don't remember the exact day I first entered a Jo-Ann Fabrics, I do remember the absolute joy I found with in my local store - on numerous occasions! I met so many sweet and creative people, both associates and customers, and found a wealth of limitless inspiration for numerous projects. Once I got my driver's license and started earning my own money, I had a place to visit on my own schedule; a sense of purpose and a little community to be a part of.

Then one day, they announced that our store was moving out, but moving up to a bigger location. And I mean BIGGER!

Nestled in the same strip-mall there stood the remains of a supermarket, easily twice the size of the craft store I'd become so accustomed to. It was a relatively easy transition all things considered (customers wouldn't even need to go to a different parking lot!), though I'm certain a lot of hard work and carefully planning was invested in our store's expansion. Months later this hunch was proven correct by the fruits of their grand 're-opening:'

I can still smell the fresh paint on the walls as shelves neatly lined with fabrics greeted customers upon entry. For a second I was completely dumbfounded - I had never seen so many different fabrics in my life! Everything was here: cotton prints, specialty stretches with sequins, beads, and faux-furs; vinyl, faux-leather, fleece; even novelty designs that both tickled me pink and turned me green with envy.

But it wasn't just the fabric selection that had so drastically expanded: the selection of notions had exploded into countless varieties of buttons and zippers; an entire aisle stood lined with a rainbow of threads, all carefully arranged by task and color. They even grew their collection of outdoor fabrics - customers could literally make their own curtains, canopies, and hunting-blinds (I am not even kidding about that last one!).

For me personally, the rapture reached it's crescendo when I came upon the yarn section...

So. Much. Yarn!

Literally a wall filled with Red Heart yarn, their diagonal shelves sorted by color; and then there was more yarn: cotton yarn, crochet threads, sample yarns; and then there was even more yarns! Yarns for baby blankets and clothes, bamboo yarns, metallic yarns... so much yarn I wanted to be buried in it!

(Side note: if you know me well enough, you will know these yarn-related ramblings are pretty much a normal Tuesday).

The store's services even seemed to expand, with advertisements for classes coming soon, and an area roped off specifically for shoppers to test the fanciest equipment available - getting behind that long-arm quilter was like driving a car for the first time: if you're not grinning ear-to-ear, you're not doing it right.

Long story long, this new Jo-Ann's was like walking into heaven. Everything and anything I could ever imagine making could be done right here. And it all came seemingly in the nick of time:

To get a little personal here, I was at a point in my life when things were falling into place for me professionally. I was working steadily at a 9-5 I enjoyed, but had enough money in the bank to start considering my future business. I personally didn't really want to work in traditional retail for the rest of my life - it turned out to be too monotonous for my liking (with the added insult of being too wasteful, in some cases).

It was around this time I had started to hope that Jo-Ann's could be my go-to for all the materials I needed to create, and even to teach. While I still enjoy a few my town's smaller fabric stories (shout out to Sew-a-Lot), as their selections objectively have greater quality, Jo-Ann's was far more accessible to a small business making its first attempts to crawl.

As a national retail chain, it easily offered more cost-effective options to purchase anything, but especially basic, perennial supplies.

Now that this age of cheaper supplies is ending, the events following the chain's bankruptcy, and its impending defunct-status, has left me reeling for a whole new reason: how can I keep my own business going now?

To be fair, it's not completely as dire as it may seem (a point I have to remind myself of at least three times a day): there are plenty of other national suppliers to purchase materials from, some big and some small, some local and some far. As long as there is a need and desire to craft and create, there will always be a steady supply materials waiting at the ready.

However, it remains a jarring wake-up call that things have got to change. Consumerism especially has got to change in this country. Now, I'm no fool, I know late-stage capitalism is still a hot-topic of debate - and for perfectly valid reasons. But whether or not capitalism is a good, or even ethical, system is neither here nor there right now. The fact remains that many people, rich and poor, are currently engaged in this system as a means of survival. And this system, for better or worse, effects everyone at every stage of their life - when one piece is removed, the whole entity sits on shaky ground.

How shaky and for how long however, is entirely up to the players in the game (i.e. everyone).

This sudden meandering into economics is just my round-a-bout way of coming to terms with the facts at hand:

1. A retail chain, with over 80 years of business under its belt, is finally coming to an end;
2. That end is coming on the heels of what has been a season of deeply personal losses, one right after the other; (Trust me guys, it's emotionally exhausting)
3. This loss will potentially have a direct impact on how I can run my own business I'm building; the impact being so profound that I may have to "step back and punt" one more time to keep things on schedule;

As a professional, the loss of one of my favorite stores means I'm gonna have think on my feet, and fast, to keep my fire cooking just right - otherwise I might as well just call it quits, too. But as an artist, the loss of one of my favorite stores is a devastating blow.

One day, just before I left my last 9-5, I managed to making a spontaneous trip to my local Jo-Ann's, to window shop for fabrics I didn't really need (but deeply wanted on a spiritual level). The difference was like night-and-day.

In the first two years of the new store's opening (just before the COVID pandemic), the shelves were always neat and full; the floors were cleared and washed regularly; merchandise was always where it was supposed to be; shoppers were constantly testing out new products or chatting with sales associates - shoot, there were always plenty of associates in the store to answer questions, work the cash registers, and to just say 'hello' to.

On this mid-December trip however, gaping holes were left on shelves; fabrics were strewn about; the testing stations were deserted, sometimes cluttered with totes of merchandise. Even more boxes, some still completely full, were scattered about the sales floors; lines formed suddenly at check-out as typically there was only one associate available to main the six registers.

The most unsettling experience, though, was the perpetual depression of Jo-Ann's employees. No one seemed happy to be there anymore. The reasons are numerous, and at times debatable, but otherwise completely unsurprising. While I can't speak for anyone else, I think it was in that moment I realized this store - my Jo-Ann's - was dying, right before my eyes.

A couple months later came the final nail in the coffin: Bankruptcy. Again.

It may seem odd to a lot of folks reading this, for one person to get so worked up over a big-box retailer. And in fairness, they are partially right. As I've said, as long as there is a need and desire for craft, there will always be a steady supply of resources.

But this store inspired my passion; it gave me a community; it helped me find my purpose and motivation; it was supposed to be an asset on my personal journey, though self-appointed as it is. Why wouldn't I mourn that loss?

I know deep down that everything's gonna be alright after Jo-Ann Fabric's is gone. If these past two years have taught me anything, it's that the sun will rise tomorrow and tomorrow is a new day. Small-potato professionals like me are gonna roll with the punches, step back and punt, and adapt accordingly. Artists like me are gonna roll with the punches, step back and punt, and start buying local... because inflation rates right now are just too absurd.

As my Aunt Norma has always reminded me, even on our carefree shopping trips: "in the end, everything is going to be okay." No matter what.

Farewell Jo-Ann Fabric's. You will be missed.