Why I closed my mail club after a year 💌

I created my mail club because I wanted human connection. By the 100th stamp lick- I felt like a robot.

I am part of a niche but wholesome corner of the internet- a corner that is home to independent artists, illustrators, poets, the crafty community, and analogue-centered creators. A corner where creativity, earnestness and community are celebrated.

If you’re even aware what a mail club is- chances are, you’re part of our lovely little corner of the internet too!

Mail clubs have been flooding online spaces this year- they’re an opportunity to share your ideas and creations in an uniquely, tangible way. Not a day goes by where I don’t see another artist or creator announcing a mail club subscription.

People flock to the opportunity to receive real life mail (such a novelty!), feel part of a community, and collect beautiful paper ephemera for their junk journal. This is a positive thing. I love to see more analogue creativity and offline connection, always.

Mail clubs have even begun trickling out into other niches and industries- I was scrolling a clothing brand’s new releases the other day just to discover they had also started a mail club. $7 including postage! I would not be surprised to see luxury brands hopping onto it as a trend as well, very soon.

I had my own in 2023 which was somewhat more expensive and complex than some of the mail clubs I see today, yet reached over 1000 monthly subscribers, sold out consistently each month until I closed it at it’s peak success (to general shock and dismay) in early 2025.

For those that are disappointed it’s over, or perhaps planning to start their own, I hope this explains very clearly why.

What I learned running my own highly successful mail club for a year:

As an artist, packing envelopes is not…my passion.

Quite simply, a mail club is 20% design and creativity, 80% physical labour. In the beginning, this ritual of packing and sealing envelopes was beautiful, even meditative, in its repetitive nature. I’d play Gilmore Girls reruns and fall into a flow state. But when hours turned into days blocked out each month on my calendar, and even enlisting my generous family members to assist me- the novelty began to fade. I yearned to have my creative time back, but 400 pending orders would hang in the back of my mind.

I created my mail club because I wanted more genuine, human connection with my community. By the 100th stamp lick- I felt like a robot.

The magic of human touch

Eventually, I enlisted my 3PL to pack snail mail club orders. I thought this would be the magic solution- I would gain back my time and energy to focus on what I was good at, and what people were truly paying for: creativity.

It was extremely costly to pay for the dozens of hours of labour my family and I had previously shouldered for free. I had to triple the cost of the subscription just to keep the mail club profitable- a transition that even my darling community, who continue to support my work to this day, struggled with.

My mail club also lost it’s magic human touch. I gave careful instructions- but packages were assembled robotically, sometimes carelessly, and without intention.

They weren’t packed with love anymore, and as silly or sentimental as it might sound, I think my community could feel it.

Virality and the cost of community

I started my mail club as a way to share my creations with my crafty community. Every subscriber’s name was familiar to me- as I started off by writing each of their names by hand. I hand tied a delicate ribbon on each carefully chosen plaid paper package. I’d handpick the pair of tiny stickers to adorn each of their packages. The same love and intention I pour into designing every product for my tiny store, I poured into each envelope.

When Snail Mail Club went viral, the influx of orders was thrilling. It was a success! Our community was growing (so I thought).

But people joined without knowledge of me, my story, the care I put into everything. They bought a product, a service- not the community that came with it. I liken the experience to when a reel on instagram goes viral- sure, you receive a lot of views and attention, but is it the right attention?

So what now?

It was a terrifying decision to cancel my most popular ‘product’ and financial stream. But a year later, I am just as confident in my decision. I felt a sigh of relief, my world (and my calendar) opened up again to allow for creating more beautiful things for you. It taught me to value my creative time more than ever.

The Snail Mail Club era set me up to create even more intentional things (the artist sticker books and our signature ribbon journals have now far surpassed the success of Snail Mail Club!). I am forever grateful for the foundation it gave me to begin dreaming even bigger.

I‘ve learned that I create is not for everyone, and I don’t want it to be. What I create is for me, and a very specific and wonderfully wholesome community I’ve been building for years.

If that’s you, reading right now, I love you and thank you for being here. There are many more beautiful chapters to come!

Keep crafting, keep creating <3