Money is a funny thing to talk about in creative circles, isn’t it?
We all know what it feels like to undercharge, overdeliver, or quietly absorb the hidden costs of our own care.
When I was deciding on a price for the Creative Cutting Circle, I hesitated. Not because it wasn’t fair, but because it still feels uncomfortable, even after decades of doing this, to talk about money in a world built on care, creativity, and community. I have also been looking at the money behind the other workshops and what and how I run them.
The current prices no longer really reflect the true cost of running these workshops or the lovely retreat days together – the preparation, the setup and clearing away, the quiet work behind the scenes that makes the space feel effortless and calm. People see the laughter, the tea, the rhythm of sewing; what they don’t see are the hours spent designing projects, checking machines, and making sure every person who walks through the door feels held and supported.
That invisible work is what makes my workshops so special. And for years, I absorbed much of that cost myself because, like many creative women, I wanted to keep things “affordable.”
But the truth is, undercharging doesn’t serve anyone. It leads to burnout, resentment, and the quiet erosion of joy. So when I finally sat down and recalculated the prices, I realised this wasn’t just a financial adjustment – it was an act of honesty.
The first workshop price to change is the Sewing Sanctuary Retreat and when I let those who were interested booking for next year know this and explained why, I was nervous. But the response wasn’t resistance – it was kindness. That was when I realised how many of us are carrying the same unease.
Pricing, for most of us, isn’t about greed; it’s about permission – permission to believe that our work, our skill, and the years we’ve invested have value.
We wouldn’t blink if a 55-year-old man with two degrees and over 30 years of professional experience charged £500 a day. We’d call it professional. Yet when a woman does the same – when she asks to be paid fairly for decades of skill and teaching – she risks being seen as expensive, indulgent, or out of touch. That double standard runs deep.
For me, raising those prices became a quiet act of defiance – a way to say: I believe in the value of what I do. I believe in care as a form of labour, not a free resource. I believe sustainability starts with the person doing the work.
Investing in Yourself
That same mindset is shaping my next project – the Creative Cutting Circle.
This new six-week programme is for people who are ready to take their sewing to the next level – to create a signature garment, or to push their creativity further, but perhaps need that nudge of structure and support to get there. It’s a small, guided circle where you’ll have me on tap via Zoom, email, and a WhatsApp group, and the gentle accountability of others working alongside you.
What I really want to foster is confidence, the kind that comes not just from technical skill, but from recognising your own worth as a maker. When you start to believe in that worth, everything changes. You stop rushing to prove yourself. You cut more decisively. You design more boldly. You make choices that feel like you.
I’ve seen it again and again: when someone begins to value their time and their creativity properly, the quality of their work deepens. It’s like the moment you finally buy good shears or a solid pair of shoes – everything just feels steadier.
Fair pricing and self-worth are intertwined. When we undervalue ourselves, we send a message to the world, and to our own subconscious, that our work is somehow less important, less legitimate. But when we start pricing honestly, we create balance. We make room for sustainability – financial, emotional, and creative.
One of my daily mantras is that you can’t pour from an empty cup. If we keep giving without replenishment, eventually the joy drains away. By valuing our work fairly, we’re not taking from others; we’re ensuring we can keep giving from a place of abundance rather than depletion.
These small affirmations have become other mantras for me lately, especially when that old self-doubt creeps in:
My time and skill have value.
Fair pricing honours both me and the people I teach.
I can be both generous and well-paid.
I price from fairness, not fear.
My creativity deserves care, time, and investment.
They may sound simple, but they shift something inside. They remind me that creative work is work – real, skilled, valuable work – and that being properly compensated allows us to keep sharing it.
That, really, is what the Creative Cutting Circle is about. It’s not just a course; it’s a space to build confidence, explore design, and invest in yourself without guilt. Because growth isn’t indulgent – it’s necessary.
Worth, Community, and Care
I know how easy it is to put your creativity last on the list after family, work, house, and everything else that demands your time. But when you finally carve out space for it, everything else seems to realign. You feel lighter, more yourself. You remember what you’re capable of.
I want this Circle to be that reminder: that you deserve to make things beautifully; that your ideas are worth exploring; that your creativity is something to honour, not apologise for.
The more I reflect on pricing, the more I see it as a mirror – it reflects how much we trust ourselves and how much we value our own time. Every time one of us charges fairly, invests in our growth, or speaks honestly about what creative work really takes, we make it easier for others to do the same.
So if you’ve been feeling ready for a new creative challenge, or perhaps just ready to believe in yourself a little more, consider this your nudge. Whether you join the Creative Cutting Circle or simply take a moment today to recognise your own worth, let it be an affirmation:
I value my work.
I invest in my growth.
I price with honesty and care.
My creativity is not a luxury – it’s part of who I am.
And if you’d like to dive deeper into these ideas, how we might move beyond the old supply-and-demand mindset to find fairer, more circular ways of rewarding creative labour – I’ve written a longer reflection over on Substack. It’s a bigger conversation about how we, as women and makers, can imagine new economies of care. You can find it HERE
But for now, let this be enough: Pricing fairly isn’t a hard-nosed business move. It’s an act of care – for your craft, your community, and yourself.
Jules x