In a bright cafe just off Leith Walk in Edinburgh, a group of young people gather around a table strewn with fabric scraps, beads and crochet hooks. Each session brings a new theme: one week it’s crochet, the next jewellery-making, the week after that they learn latte-art. Coffees are sipped, biscuits are passed around and chatter fills the room.
This is the Girls Craft Club, founded earlier this year by art history graduate Gabby after a diagnosis of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder left her feeling isolated. “We were all going through life problems,” she says. “We decided to make something beautiful out of it. When you make your own bag or repair your clothes, you value them differently. And you value yourself differently, too.”
What may seem like pure nostalgia is, in fact, part of a wider cultural shift. Across the UK, gen Z is embracing hobbies once more associated with their grandparents or great grandparents: crochet and knitting circles, pottery cafes, mahjong nights and supper clubs that echo Come Dine With Me. These “slow” pastimes are flourishing, not because they are a retro trend being revived, but because they offer something people feel is urgently missing: connection, purpose and respite from digital fatigue.
This return to analogue hobbies is happening against a bleak national backdrop. Britain’s teenagers are among the unhappiest in Europe. In its Good Childhood report last year, the Children’s Society warned of a youth happiness recession, with just over 25% of 15-year-olds in the UK reporting low life satisfaction, compared with 7% in the Netherlands.
For many who came of age during lockdowns, the need for real-world connection is acute. Nights out are expensive, the cost of living crisis is biting hard, and hours of doomscrolling after working from home have left young people exhausted. Slow hobbies offer a counterweight: affordable, screen-free – and often physical – skills. While some of these are female-led initiatives, the joys of creative community appeal to all. For Carmine Valente, 34, a regular at a pottery cafe in Fulham, west London, pottery painting is one of the only times he fully switches off. “It’s calming and I always leave relaxed – a brilliant way to catch up with mates while doing something creative,” he says.
The appeal is multifaceted. Emma, 23, from London, who regularly attends London Creative Gals club, says: “It is about connection and rebuilding community after the isolation of the pandemic, but it’s also about cost, with free events or £10 craft sessions undercutting the price of a night at the pub.”
“Purpose is another factor,” says Sabah, 24, from Blackburn, who is part of a dog life drawing group. “And the ability to develop practical and creative skills that feel meaningful.” James Chapman agrees: “There’s something so special and unpredictable about dog life drawing. I’ve been many times, drawn many dogs, and it’s the kind of event that always manages to surprise me.”
A sense of purpose is something Gabby also values: “You get something real, you make genuine connections, and you switch off. Everyone mentions wellbeing and being off phones – it’s a real mental break.” It feels like part of a growing trend, she says, “where being in a new space and doing a creative hobby becomes an accessible and great way to feel connected to people in your area and develop new skills.”
The therapeutic benefits of the craft activities themselves are cited as another draw. “The process forces you to slow down, and use your hands in a meditative and repetitive way to do something proactive rather than reactive,” says Sarah P Corbett, founder of the global Craftivist Collective. “Stitch by stitch you regulate your breath, relax your body, and be mindful.” As Daisy Fancourt, a professor of psychobiology at UCL and author of Art Cure, explains: “Gen Z have a proactive focus on mental health, and they recognise the value of these hobbies and the role art plays in regulating biological stress levels.”
In Belfast, the search for community has taken the form of supper clubs. When Fiona Fitwi started Cooking With Friends Archives in 2022, she simply wanted to make more friends. She began cooking meals in art galleries and selling tickets for £45 a head, with guests encouraged to bring their own drinks. Groups of 12 to 27 gather to eat, talk and disconnect from technology. “It feels better to pay £45 for a supper club than £50 on a night out you won’t remember,” she says.
Fitwi has been in London over the summer for culinary school. “When I moved, half of my leaving party were people I’d met through Cooking With Friends Archives,” she says. She has now received a grant from Belfast city council to host a free supper club in October, in recognition of the need for accessible community events like hers.
In Edinburgh, Gabby’s craft circle offers a similar mix of community with a splash of creativity. “Rotating crafts keeps things fresh,” she says. “It helps people discover new skills, build confidence and connect with others in a safe, supportive environment.” Sessions cost up to £30, though some are free, and participants often leave with two or three pieces of jewellery, stitched bags, or crocheted items.
“We’ve lost touch with creating,” Gabby says. “When you create something tangible, your confidence grows and you see yourself in a different light.” For many, the screen-free evenings are as important as the skills themselves: small rituals that help people to slow down in a culture that often feels relentlessly fast.
The benefits of slow hobbies are not just anecdotal but backed by research. A 2024 survey of more than 7,000 UK adults by Anglia Ruskin University found that arts and crafts produced greater life satisfaction than paid work.
“With so much of our life being on Zoom, screen-free craft spaces have become medicine for gen Z,” says Corbett. “People love to use their hands for something bigger than themselves and value the time they spend away from phones and computer screens.”
In Sheffield, Nottingham and Leeds, artist Liah has found a different way of bringing people together. Her dog life drawing sessions began in 2018, when Sheffield University wanted to host student union events that didn’t revolve around alcohol. Nowadays, these sessions attract about 40 people each week. At about £11 for a two-hour class, they are a cheap evening out and wildly popular with students who miss their pets back home. Some arrive as beginners; others come to rekindle a childhood passion for art. “It’s fun, but also therapeutic,” Liah says. “People come alone and leave with friends.”
The Fulham pottery cafe, which opened in 1998, has found unexpected new life with gen Z. Guests can paint ceramics, order a drink from the licensed bar, and spend a few hours creating something lasting. Prices start at £7.95 for a session, plus the cost of a piece, ranging from £6 to £60. “We’ve noticed a real increase in younger visitors since the pandemic,” says Ahmed, who helps run the studio. “You come out feeling as if you have just been to therapy. We host first dates, mates, family reunions. It is a real community hub.”
In Manchester, The Read Room is reinventing the book club. Each month, more than 130 people gather in a dimly lit venue as an author reads aloud from their work. Guests receive a free copy of the book, a welcome drink and a goodie bag. Sponsored by car brand Cupra, the event is free to attend. “When do you ever get a full room in Manchester to be totally present and social?” says one guest, Nathan, 28. “This is powerful!”
“We wanted to make reading sexy again,” say the co-founders Sophia Wild and Kya Buller. “Lots of people loved reading as kids but stopped because it wasn’t seen as cool. Now they’re coming back and engaging with literature again.” The sessions often end with drinks or dancing, but the focus remains on reading, and on creating a community.
“People don’t go to a run club to run,” says Fitwi from Cooking with Friends Archive. “They go to make friends and have a chat. These hobbies are the same – but they’re also about supporting each other and building community.”
The benefits extend beyond individual mood. Fancourt from UCL has identified lots of social benefits of these hobbies: “Whether practised alone or in a group, hobbies such as crochet and knitting become part of your social identity, functioning as a vehicle for reducing loneliness and building community.”
For Gabby, these hobbies have become a lifeline. “As life speeds up, we need to actively decide to slow down,” she says. The craft workshops also give participants practical, sustainable skills, helping them learn to repair, create, and treasure what they own – a counterweight to a throwaway culture dominated by fast consumption.
From book clubs to crochet, drawing to pottery, gen Z is building a new social life from old materials. Against the backdrop of a youth mental health crisis, these slow hobbies are more than quaint diversions. They are small acts of resistance against digital exhaustion, isolation and a culture that measures worth in productivity.
In the hum of craft and conversation, Britain’s young people are building something important: connection.
