Etsy Witches and the Commodification of Spirituality

Words: Allegra Handelsman

Make it stand out

It’s about 9pm on a Tuesday evening, and I’ve been stuck on the Eurostar for five hours. We’re stopped somewhere in the middle of the French countryside, waiting for… something. I should have been in London over three hours ago, but instead I’m wedged into a packed carriage, panic-texting my friends and scrolling mindlessly through TikTok.

Across the aisle, two groups – four girls and four guys – seem to have staged their own version of Love Island: coupling up, roaming the train, swigging duty-free booze they’d stocked up on at the station. I’m fairly sure they were strangers before boarding, which makes it sting even more that, despite being roughly their age and speaking the same language, I was not considered worthy of inclusion.

I’d also not eaten all day, thanks to a heatwave in Paris that killed my appetite. So, I make my way to the bar car, only to find that most of the food is gone. The sole remaining option? A KitKat. Back at my seat, I tear open the wrapper to discover it’s melted into a sad, gooey slab. Staring at the disappointment in my hand, I start to wonder: is someone trying to mess with me?

The previous month has been a relentless run of bad luck - the kind that starts to feel less and less like coincidence. On a solo trip to New York to visit family, I endured turbulence akin to a Disneyland roller-coaster, was briefly detained at JFK, and woke up the next morning with a mysterious pain that landed me in urgent care. A week later, on a hungover, sleep-deprived flight to Portugal, I was seated next to a screaming baby who kept hurling objects at me, while hassled by a stag do, already drunk at 8am. Not long after, I was in a car accident that brought me back into urgent care. Add to that a bout of food poisoning, stalled work, and broken air conditioning during a 30 degree weather. By the time the Eurostar debacle rolled around, I came to the obvious conclusion: I must be hexed.
___STEADY_PAYWALL___

Later that week, I mentioned my suspicions to my cousin Siobhan, who immediately told me she knew of a coven of witches on Etsy who could cast a spell to remove any bad energy. The service, provided by the Black Cat Coven, cost £8.99. All I had to do was send my full name and date of birth – and then wait. And as crazy as it sounds, it worked.

Within weeks, my luck seemed to flip. I went from a consistently stilted workload, to landing some of my most exciting commissions yet, enjoyed two holidays with seamless travel, and even had an impressive Blackjack winning streak. (Unfortunately, we weren’t playing for money.)

“In many ways, Etsy witches represent the paradox of modern mysticism: offering young women a sense of empowerment while simultaneously commodifying their beliefs.”

When I told my friends, I expected laughter or at least a few scoffs about wasting my money. Instead, almost every single one of them asked for the link. I realised I wasn’t alone. More and more of my peers seem to be turning to the mystic for guidance and good fortune. And who can blame them? In today’s digital landscape, spirituality has gone mainstream; from TikTok tarot readers predicting the return of your ex, to horoscope apps dictating your daily choices, to Etsy witches offering spells for everything your every desire.

You want to make money, fix your love life, or exact revenge on your enemies? There’s an online witch who can help you – for a small fee, of course. When I dug deeper into this particular Etsy coven, I found they offered an entire catalogue of spells to improve your life in every imaginable way. There’s the Get Hired – Strong Dream Job Spell and the Lady Luck Spell, both around £15, and, at the top end, a Love and Obsession Spell that will set you back £133.20. Some witches go further, offering tarot readings, medium sessions to contact lost loved ones, or even personal predictions for the future.

Personally, I stopped after that first spell – better to quit while I was ahead – but I’ve since sent the link to countless friends and friends-of-friends, many of whom swear they’ve felt real results from a little otherworldly intervention. 

None of this, I should say, is new. The trend can be traced back to the 1970s and the rise of New Age spirituality – a holistic approach that blended astrology, meditation, divination, and energy healing into Western culture. Since then, practices like crystal healing, manifestation, and sound therapy have fuelled a multibillion-dollar wellness industry, showing up everywhere from yoga retreats to corporate mindfulness programs.

Still, something about this current wave feels different. In many ways it mirrors a broader trend – gen Z is finding religion again. Back in 2019, only 22 per cent of 18- to 24-year-olds in the UK said they believed in God. By early 2025, that figure had more than doubled to 45 per cent, a shift driven in part by rising loneliness and worsening mental health. The number of young men attending church has grown from 4 per cent to 21 per cent, and young women’s attendance from 3 per cent to 12 per cent. So, while more young men seem to be returning to the church, I’d argue that many young women are instead gravitating towards spirituality – their own form of faith.

Perhaps in a world defined by war, climate catastrophe, and a precarious economy, people are seeking solace in something bigger than themselves. So many young women seem to be embracing the mystical – whether by practising tarot, learning astrology, or manifesting their dream lives.

But is the commodification of spirituality helping people connect, or simply monetising their search for meaning? This digital marketplace feels like an inevitable byproduct of late-stage capitalism – one that trades in hope, fear, and heartbreak. Although the phenomenon isn’t new, it has been thoroughly normalised and rebranded for the algorithm age, with many arguing that it has cheapened centuries-old practices. Take tarot card readers on TikTok, for example, often tell their audiences whatever will get the most views, rather than offering more considered or faithful readings.

Still, a new generation of women is approaching these practices as a form of agency. They are reshaping them to suit their own desires, reclaiming control in a world that so often denies it, and, in the process, finding community. And while many of these connections start online, they can lead to offline rituals and gatherings centred on self-reflection and improvement.  Surely that’s something to be celebrated, rather than ridiculed.

In many ways, Etsy witches represent the paradox of modern mysticism: offering young women a sense of empowerment while simultaneously commodifying their beliefs. It’s far from a perfect solution, but it’s the one that felt like it worked. Perhaps that’s why I still have the Black Cat Coven saved in my Etsy favourites – just in case my luck runs out again.