What Actually Makes a Market Feel Good

What Actually Makes a Market Feel Good

(and why some feel… off)

I didn’t start out wanting to host markets. It didn't even cross my mind as something I'd ever be involved in.

I started as an anxious artist who was quietly annoyed as a vendor.

Back in 2019, I had gotten married, moved to Anacortes, quit a job I hated and simultaneously bought a laser I didn’t know how to use... and figured it out as I went (which has honestly been a common theme in my life). Once I figured out what I enjoyed making and had created enough product, I signed up for a couple holiday markets in Oak Harbor. I remember being excited to be there, but also feeling this low-level frustration the entire time.

Not because anything was technically wrong. But because I had questions that I felt I had to beg to get answered.

Where do I park?

Where do I unload?

Which door am I supposed to go to?

Where is my booth?

How much space do I have for setting up?

Who do I even ask or look for to check in when I arrive?

It’s small stuff, but it adds up quickly. As an anxious new artist, it feels overwhelming when you’re trying to set up, stay on schedule, and also show up as a human who’s ready to talk to customers and share your art with the public (which feels scary and vulnerable!).  That kind of confusion just sits in the background and takes up more energy than it should. And in hindsight, not providing that info up front actually creates more stress and extra work for the market host. Who knows how many other artists were emailing them with the same questions!

After getting my feet wet, I was starting to search around for other markets to participate in… but then 2020 happened. 

Everything shut down, and I pivoted to selling my art on Etsy, which was its own learning experience. But what I noticed pretty quickly was that I didn’t just miss selling my work. I missed being around creative people. Even just walking through a farmers market as a customer was one of my favorite things to do and I missed it so much.

During the shut down, I did try vending at a consignment-style holiday market that felt completely different (in a positive way despite everyone wearing masks and the social distancing requirements). It was organized, easy to navigate, and I actually connected with other vendors and the host in a way that felt natural. I left that one feeling grateful and thinking, okay… this is what it can feel like when it’s done well.

Living in Anacortes, there are artists and creative humans everywhere. There’s a big arts festival once a year, and a great farmers market, but outside of that back then, there weren’t many spaces that I could find for creatives to actually connect with each other. That idea stuck with me for a while, even if I didn’t fully know what to do with it yet.

In 2021, when things started opening back up, I finally acted on it. I reached out to a building owner I knew, pitched an idea for an indoor art market, and he handed me the keys then and there. Eight days later on July 31st (and after a lot of hustling), I had over 25 vendors set up inside that space.

It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. We had good foot traffic and decent sales for my first go-around (I vended as well), and the energy from the vendors was intoxicating. I was hooked and immediately started planning more. 

The excitement was not because everything went smoothly, but because I could already feel the difference between something intentional and something that just kinda gets thrown together without much thought. 

As a vendor, and probably even as a shopper, you can walk into a market and know pretty quickly if it feels good. It’s not something most people can immediately explain, but you notice it. How easy it was to find the entrance. Whether you felt welcomed or slightly lost. If you can move through the space without constantly stopping or squeezing past people. Whether vendors look relaxed and friendly or bored, grumpy, or a little on edge.

That feeling has very little to do with how many vendors there are or how “successful” the event looks from the outside. It comes from a bunch of small decisions that either support the experience or slowly work against it.

Logistics do matter (obviously - past wedding planner in me loves the details, spreadsheets, and logistics), but the feeling of a market usually comes from the details people don’t think about ahead of time. Clear communication before the event so vendors aren’t guessing when they arrive, allowing for a smoother setup process.  A layout that makes sense, doesn’t create bottlenecks or dead corners, and is ADA compliant while still feeling like a natural flow. Enough space for people to move without feeling crowded. A vendor mix that feels intentional instead of repetitive. I can’t even count the times I’ve attended markets as a shopper and found SO many MLM booths, or all jewelry artists, or the vendors who sell the SAME EXACT THINGS! Whew - can you tell that drives me nuts? Maybe that is some people's jam - but I’m a gal who appreciates variety.

Even things like lighting and music make a difference. Harsh lighting can flatten everything out, and music that’s too loud or mismatched can make it harder for people to stay present. I honestly even found that live music can sometimes detract from vendor sales for the artists who are right next to the performer. None of these things are complicated on their own, but when they’re off, you can feel it right away. The energy shifts, and it shows in the vendors, whether it’s in a good way or not. 

One thing I didn’t fully understand in the beginning is how much the vendor experience shapes everything else. If vendors are stressed during setup, confused about logistics, or squeezed into awkward spaces, that energy carries through the entire event. Customers might not be able to name it, but they pick up on it.

When vendors feel taken care of, it shifts. They usually settle in faster. They’re more open, more engaged, and more present. Conversations happen more naturally with customers and neighboring vendors, and the whole space feels easier to be in. 

In my early markets, I took a very open approach with how I organized the lineup. First come, first serve (FCFS). Lower booth fees. I wanted to create opportunities for as many artists as possible, especially newer ones, and make sure it was affordable for them. And while I still believe in that, I also learned that more vendors doesn’t automatically create a better market.

At a certain point, when markets aren’t juried, there can be too many similar booths, which overwhelms shoppers (and honestly creates tension between competing vendors) and dilutes sales.  In the FCFS style, if too many similar vendors sign up first, it doesn’t leave room for a good variety of other stuff, and shoppers tend not to come back because they think it will be that way every time.

Getting more markets under my belt, I started paying attention to certain things and taking notes. How people enter the space. Where they naturally walk. Where did they pause and linger, and where did they avoid. Which booths draw people in, and which ones get passed by - whether it is because the product itself, the display or even the vendor's behavior. Where did conversations happen, and where things really just fell flat.

Those patterns tell you a lot more than numbers ever will.

The goal isn’t just to host a market. It’s to create a space people actually want to be in. That includes vendors who feel supported, customers who feel comfortable, and an environment that feels thoughtful, even if it’s simple. It doesn't have to be over the top. I personally just love connecting vendors with each other (some have become really close friends), and connecting customers to vendors they might really enjoy and become big time fans.

It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it should feel considered.

Most people can feel when a market is off as soon as they walk in, even if they can’t quite explain why.

There’s little to no foot traffic. No light background music or hum of happy chatter to soften the space. Vendors are sitting down with their arms crossed or scrolling on their phones, not making eye contact or engaging. The energy feels flat, disconnected, or maybe even a little awkward.

And it’s always a little ironic, because those same vendors chose to sign up and be there. Sometimes their grumpiness is because of unmet expectations that were set from the host, but we always have a choice on how we respond.

Attitude matters more than people think. It’s not just about showing up with products and hoping people buy. It’s about being present, being open and excited, and actually wanting to connect with the people walking through your booth.

That doesn’t start on market day. It starts way earlier.

As a host, it starts with vetting the vendors you bring in and making sure they’re aligned with the kind of experience you’re trying to create. It starts with giving them the information they need ahead of time so they’re not stressed, confused, or already checked out before the doors even open. It starts with setting the expectation that this is something we all contribute to, not just show up for. 

Because a market isn’t just a collection of booths.

It’s a shared energy.

And when that energy is off, people feel it immediately. But when it’s good, when vendors are engaged, when the space feels alive and easy and welcoming, people stay longer. They connect more. They come back.

That’s the difference. And that's what brought me back to hosting.

A photo of my husband and I at one of the first holiday markets I hosted in 2021. Photos with masks on are not my favorite - but I do love that it was documented!

And a photo of me later at a summer market. Hot tip for market hosts: HIRE A PHOTOGRAPHER! I am so happy I did. Makes promoting future markets so much better with good quality photos.