Washi tape, paint brushes and collages — Gen-Z’s latest night out might be more wholesome than you think.
The soft sounds of indie pop drift through the top floor of The Haggerston Pub as a group of crafters sift through collections of coloured pencils, patterned paper and sheets of quirky stickers.
Through the snipping of scissors, the rustling of magazine clippings, and twisting of glue sticks, some admit they have not done arts and crafts in years, while others shyly pass sketchbooks and collages around the table for the group to admire.
“Can you pass the scissors?” one person asks from across the table.
“Where did you find those stickers?” another calls out.
“I love what you’ve done with your collage!”
“It’s nice to do something tactile,” says one attendee, reflecting on how different the evening feels from the screen-heavy routines of their adult life. They laugh, recalling the simple satisfaction of having the “best” glue stick in primary school.
These are the sounds of a @manomake midweek creative social. Manomake is just one of a growing number of arts and crafts groups quickly popping up around London.
From zine workshops and button designing to painting, bedazzling, and rosette making, creative socials are becoming an increasingly popular way for young Londoners to meet offline.
In the midst of busy schedules, digital exhaustion, and endless algorithms, Gen Z is turning toward something unexpectedly wholesome: arts and crafts.
Despite lingering stereotypes, arts and crafts are no longer confined to retirement homes or niche hobby circles. Instead, Gen Z is driving the resurgence of creative play, and the numbers support it.
“They want to try to meet people, they just want to do something simply creative for their soul.”
Theodora Sava
Roughly a third of today’s arts and craft buyers are under the age of 35, making them the biggest craft buyer demographic. This shift comes as more than half of Gen-Z strongly agree that in-person relationships are more valuable than digital ones, while 91% say in-person events are some of the best ways to build social and interpersonal skills.
Across London, a wave of community-led craft groups have emerged, built around hands-on activities designed to cut through digital fatigue and bring people together IRL.
One of them is @londoncreativegals, which hosts everything from embroidery and painting sessions to jewellery making.
“I just wanted to make sure that the London Creative Gals is a safe space, where girls can have fun and build connections,” says founder Martina Vintaloro. “My main mission was to build a big community of like-minded girls and make this place a happier place.” She laughs, “I love my work as well, but for me, it’s more like meeting friends.”
For Vintaloro, the magic is in how easily conversation flows when hands are busy. “I think this is much easier and funnier than just going out for lunch or having a drink.”
What started as a small side project has scaled quickly. The group went from hosting one or two events a month to now hosting up to 12. They have even recently expanded to hosting collaborations with Time Out London and the Victoria and Albert Museum.
Yet, despite the scale-up, she says her community focus remains unchanged. Small gestures, like giving attendees gift bags to take home, are “a reminder to the girls to believe in themselves,” she says. “It’s kind of motivational,” and wants these to “remind you that you can do everything you want.”
In a city where many young people describe feeling isolated, despite constant connectivity, Vintaloro sees these spaces as a softer antidote — a way to rebuild community through creativity, and to make London feel a little less overwhelming.
“They want to try something new, they want to try to meet people, they just want to do something simply creative for their soul,” Theodora Sava, a Director at Art Hood, told me. She sees these creative spaces as a cure to that urban isolation. “Creativity has no boundaries,” she adds.
Art Hood began as a grassroots arts community group and has since expanded to incorporate a wider range of creative practices. Its events now sit at the intersection of workshop and social space — part making, part meeting, part night out.
The group leans into a more immersive version of that experience. Alongside painting and ceramics, some events feature DJ sets, live music, and food, creating a hybrid environment that sits somewhere between workshop and social night out.
Sava says, “It’s a way to play and network because you’re meeting amazing people.” She adds it’s expressing the joy of creating together with “no pressure and just for fun,” “it’s a great thing for us creatives because we’re not alone.”
Ellen, a regular at creative socials across London, says she was initially drawn to creative workshops because they offered a low-pressure way to meet people while trying something new. She says, “they were a great way to meet up with people and talk while crafting,” “without needing to invest too much in equipment or experience.”
She explains that the shared activity makes conversation feel more natural. “People are meeting like-minded people where you have at least one thing in common,” she says. “It’s a great way to start interacting and start a conversation, and then that can lead to other things being in common.”
The collaborative atmosphere, she adds, also creates space for creativity and support. “You’re able to encourage each other and inspire each other’s ideas.”
“I just wanted to make sure that the London Creative Gals is a safe space, where girls can have fun and build connections.”
Martina Vintaloro
For Katty, a newcomer to these socials, the appeal came from wanting to reconnect with her creative side. “I would consider myself a more administrative, logical person,” she says. “So the creative side of me greatly lacks.”
But beyond the activities themselves, she shares it’s the sense of community that stood out most. “I think what drives me is that we all have a foundation of wanting to get to know people, wanting to be in community, the girlhood energy is so strong.”
Emmanuela, another regular attendee, says the spaces have helped her navigate the social isolation that can come with living in a large city. As she shares pictures of past projects and workshops she has attended: “I struggled with meeting friends, so it’s more like conversations with strangers I wouldn’t have had if I were at home.”
“That’s what zine-making and collage workshops do, really,” Emmanuaela said, explaining how arts and crafts offer a rare sense of creative release, the ability to experiment without pressure and to reconnect with a more authentic version of herself. “I like that art gives me freedom.”
The appeal, Sava suggests, reflects a wider cultural moment. Across London, arts-and-crafts collectives are gaining momentum, tapping into something more emotional than conventional social outings.
In an era shaped by digital saturation and fast-paced urban living, nostalgia has become a quiet undercurrent visible in everything from revived aesthetics to the resurgence of hands-on, childhood-coded activities. Here, crafting offers an easy entry point back into that familiarity. “It’s a way to play,” Sava says.
“When you’re younger, you don’t think too much about things — you just go ahead and try them,” Emmanuela explains. “I notice the older I get, the less things I try.”
“I think this is much easier and funnier than just going out for lunch or having a drink.”
Martina Vintaloro
By attending creative clubs and workshops, she says she is actively pushing herself outside of her comfort zone. “I’m forcing myself to try new things,” explaining that the sessions rekindle the curiosity and openness often lost in adulthood.
“I think part of it was definitely nostalgia-based,” says Tatum, known online as @paddingtum to her community of more than 40,000 arts-and-crafts followers.
She describes the experience of journaling, stickers and colourful craft supplies as “reconnecting with my inner child,” adding that “there are so many aspects of it that remind me of when I was a kid.”
For Tatum, crafting has also become a way of reconnecting with parts of herself that felt lost growing up. “You just hide certain parts of yourself because you’re just trying so hard to fit in and just kind of go through high school,” she explains.
“I definitely think that everything I’m doing now as an adult is a way to kind of, honour my younger self and then also just reassure her that, don’t worry, like, we’re still journaling every day and we’re still doing arts and crafts.” Adding, most importantly, that “now I’ve been able to sort of connect with so many different people through doing it.”
So, as the evenings wind down, glue sticks are capped, paper scraps swept aside, and sketchbooks tucked back into tote bags. People leave with new Instagram handles, unfinished collages and small pieces of art balanced carefully in their hands.
For many, the appeal isn’t about artistic skill at all. It’s not about what they make, but how it makes them feel. It is about rediscovering something that once felt instinctive: creating simply for the joy of it and the community you find along the way.
And somewhere between the stickers, coloured pens, and collaging, arts and crafts stop feeling like a childhood pastime and become a reminder of something much bigger.
All images by Tia Frazer.