Ditch the dating apps and toss those CVs. Your Etsy witch has it all covered.

On Etsy, you can buy a hand-knitted scarf for grandma, custom tees for your mate’s hen-do – oh, and a £15 spell to call forth your soulmate from the depths of the universe. That’s what Taylor Hamm, 35, did, alongside thousands of others, after seeing people raving about “Etsy witches” online. And she swears it works. 

“I was looking for love and new opportunities since I felt kind of stagnant. So, I bought a couple spells from an Etsy witch who said I’ll see results in eight weeks,” she says. “I bought them for fun, thinking, ‘That’s probably exactly when I’d forget about paying for it’. But lo and behold: eight weeks later, my whole world shifted through a crazy series of events.” 

Taylor received a $5,000 (£3,688) tax refund she says she was not expecting, met her now-boyfriend, and then, without warning, her bathroom ceiling came crashing down. She assures me – now assessing the structural integrity of my own house – that the disaster was all part of the spell. It forced her to move in with her partner, something she wasn’t considering at the time. They’ve lived together ever since. “He’s my perfect person,” she says. Before buying the spells, she described herself as a sceptic, but now she’s changed her mind. “I know it sounds insane, but it was the witch – it can’t all be a coincidence.” 

Who needs a building inspector when you have magic to blame?

“My whole world shifted through a crazy series of events.” 

Taylor, like many others, posted her experience on TikTok, where videos and comment sections are teeming with witch recommendations. One user who bought a drawing of her “soulmate” writes, “He literally looks like the guy I’ve just started dating,” adding the link to an Etsy shop. Another user says she bought a spell for her wedding that changed the forecast from rain to sun. “Hiring an Etsy witch was the best investment I’ve ever made,” she comments. “Every day, I learn something new from TikTok.”

Professor Christopher French, an expert on the psychology behind supernatural belief says it’s no mystery why so many are convinced. “They don’t cost a fortune so a lot of people will give it a go. For some, it may seem like it works, but others won’t get the outcome they’re hoping for,” says Chris. “Anyone who’s forked out 30 quid that didn’t get a result won’t likely be shouting about it online – they probably feel a bit silly. On social media, you’re only going to get the people declaring these spells seemed to have ‘worked’ for them.”

His point becomes clear once you skip the trending videos and read reviews from the same spells on Etsy itself. For one customer, the same soulmate drawing left them distraught, writing, “Do I hit my head in the future? Gross. I’d run from that man if I saw him on the street.” Another customer bought a “Perfect weather spell”, and, to no one’s surprise, it still rained – even when his coven gathered to “channel energies”. One star. 

Etsy, founded in 2005 as a marketplace for handmade goods, banned divination services in 2015, with exceptions. Sellers must provide a physical or digital product, without advertising metaphysical outcomes – naturally, Etsy has shut down a handful of popular spell shops. But business is still booming, and I’m curious to meet some of the people behind the screens.

On the first stop of my modern witch-hunt, I speak to Cecilia, 21, a law student from Italy. Despite Chris’ rational explanation, the uncanny stories have me (half-jokingly) wondering what might happen if I were to offend her. Maybe a broomstick drive-by, pelting frog-legs at my window. But she joins the call dressed in Lululemon, fresh from Pilates. “Do you mind if I smoke my heated tobacco?”, she asks politely, a cigarette balancing between her nails. I feel slightly better.

Cecilia’s interest in witchcraft began in childhood, after a night terror led her to believe she has the gift of premonition. “I once woke up in the middle of the night, pointing at my mum’s stomach screaming, “Please don’t die, please don’t die!” – three years later, she was diagnosed with colon cancer,” she says. Although occasional night terrors aren’t considered abnormal in children, with many possible causes, she believes it’s a sign of her psychic abilities. “Thankfully my mum is healthy now, but that wasn’t a coincidence,” she says, taking a drag of her cigarette. “It was in the exact same area I pointed at.”

In less than two months of opening her Etsy shop, Cecilia has had over 100 orders, each around €35 (£30) per spell – pricier than most on the e-commerce website. Most of her customers are young women from the UK, US and Germany, buying love spells, particularly ones that promise to bring an ex back. “Girls want relationships because that’s what society feeds us,” she says. “Maybe they think a boyfriend will make their life better, like they show in movies. I’ve been there before, so I know how it feels to be a naive girl, craving love.”

However, Chris says it’s difficult to assign specific demographics for supernatural beliefs, as it’s a very complicated picture. “It depends on the particular aspect of the paranormal you’re talking about, and the context of the populations,” he explains. “Since [Etsy witches] are trending online, and younger people use more social media, you’ll find it’s more common among them.”

Though many customers buy spells out of curiosity or a desire for love, not every request is simple. There is a darker side to Cecilia’s work, as she often encounters upsetting situations she isn’t trained to manage. She tells me a 14-year-old girl once tried to buy a love spell from her shop for a 23-year-old man. The girl said they met on the internet and when asked for explicit pictures, she sent them to him. 

Immediately concerned, Cecilia tried asked tentatively for more personal information to contact the correct authorities. But the young girl stopped responding after realising what she was attempting. “It was heartbreaking. I couldn’t sleep properly for days,” she says. “I felt like a big sister trying to protect her, but I couldn’t do anything.” Cecilia reported the girl’s account and emailed Etsy, but they did not respond.

She says she was also on FaceTime with another client when she noticed bruises on her. The customer opened up about her abusive boyfriend, and how she wants Cecilia’s “Love-binding spell” to help them stay together. “Of course, I refused to do it, and didn’t take any money,” says Cecilia. “I offered her a cord-cutting spell to release their attachment, and then I’d hex the fuck out of him. She didn’t take my offer.”

I asked Etsy’s press team what they’re doing to safeguard both customers and sellers in these situations, but they did not respond to any of the four emails I sent. 

Experiences like that have weighed heavily on Cecilia, shaping her approach to her work today. She is now considering leaving her law career, finding the industry’s treatment of women unfair. Instead, she might pursue digital witchcraft ful-time. “Lawyers and the law they worship can be toxic to women. I want to help people without changing my morals and who I am,” she says. “Sometimes I just talk to people that seem lonely or insecure for free. I feel like I’m making a difference.”

“I’ve been there before, so I know how it feels to be a naive girl, craving love.” 

While Cecilia is opting for a career change, US-based witch Rachel, 28, balances her double life in a unique way: casting spells to help pass exams for her medicine degree. To my surprise, she says she doesn’t find the two practices conflicting, and that her university friends also ask for magical help. “If religious people pray to God to help them with medical school, why is it weird if I use herbs to manifest good grades?” 

Rachel, or as she goes by online, ‘Venus Virgo Tarot’, is no Etsy novice. Her first shop was closed down three years ago, after violating Etsy’s guidelines on misleading divinations. But she reopened another account in May, realising its growing popularity online. To avoid a ban, she tells Etsy her shop sells crafts and conducts much of her business through TikTok. “Sometimes I make over a hundred sales in a week. So many clients text my phone – it gets overwhelming.” 

And it’s no surprise why she can’t keep up with her orders. A 2024 Oxford Economics report found that small and medium businesses in the US, like Rachel’s, not only benefit from paid advertising on TikTok, but also when trends start organically. The app’s algorithm amplifies trends rapidly with its 1.59 billion users, so a single viral video about Etsy witches can generate traffic to her shop.

Like Cecilia, Rachel says spells around love, obsession, and making your ex come back sell the most, which she sells for $36 (£27). At times, she has also found herself dealing with difficult, potentially dangerous situations. “I have rejected clients that take it too far,” says Rachel. “They’ll text me saying, ‘I’m going to their house to beg and win them back,’ – I have to draw the line at that point and recommend my self-love spell instead.”

Although receiving love seems to be the main appeal, many customers also come to her in times of desperate financial need. “A client had an eviction notice on her door, so I did my money spell. Some patchouli root, ginger, reiki-charged candles, et cetera.” she says. “A few days later, the customer won $1000 USD from a shop for being their 1000^thcustomer.” Rachel didn’t share her clients’ contact details for privacy reasons, so I cannot verify the story. Still, it seems financial spells are one of the most common requests among Etsy witches. 

After buying a handful of love spells that seemed to work, Birmingham student Jeitha, 20, tried to replicate their success to land a job. “A few people from my past came back after the love spells, including this beautiful, blue-eyed, six-foot-four farmer I met on Bumble,” she says. “But he was a snooze-fest. So, I ghosted him, trying to focus on myself and my career.” Jeitha bought a good luck spell and a money spell while applying to jobs – and got no results. “It did absolutely nothing. I’m still a broke uni student,” she says. 

Chris notes that people often look for religious or spiritual guidance in times of uncertainty and stress. “In some way, summoning forces from beyond might help someone feel like they’ve regained control of their life,” he says. “Sometimes it can make them more confident to make the outcome actually happen, a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy.” But even witches and self-confidence can’t help Jeitha in the dismal UK job market, with job openings between May and July falling by 5.8% this year.The more I go down the Etsy witch rabbit hole, the darker it gets. Some sellers aren’t just helping customers “manifest” their dream job – they claim they can cure chronic illness and depression. Prices range from £180 to less than a pound, but they all promise a speedy recovery.

One customer bought a “Banish illness spell” from ‘CrystalConjureMagic’, after struggling to diagnose and treat a health condition. “The seller took my details and vanished,” she says. “I think they’re just laughing at me […] Undiagnosed conditions are hard, and people like you just bring out our desperation.” The shop offers a variety of other health spells, including “premium” versions that cost a few pounds more. They have received over 35,000 sales.

The promotion of alternative health is not a new phenomenon. Spiritual gurus and con men have claimed their organic juices and coffee enemas can even cure everything under the sun, including cancers. The recent death of 23-year-old Paloma Shemirani has brought the dangers of medical misinformation back into sharp focus. After her rejection of chemotherapy, Paloma’s brothers blamed their mother, a former nurse known for spreading conspiracy theories about Covid-19 and cancer. Her story should act as a stark reminder for Etsy of the devastating effects similar beliefs can have.

“Summoning forces from
beyond might help someone
feel like they’ve regained
control of their life“

Although harmful misinformation is technically banned on Etsy, the company fails to enforce their policies. Firstly, most shops have found a loophole in the system. To read disclaimers from ‘CrystalConjureMagic’, for example, you must read 1,200 words in the description. They first ask those with an “ailing body holding them hostage”, to “imagine the memory of the tormenting pain fading”. Then, they sprinkle in five or six additional spell promotions to boost, speed up and protect their recovery. It’s not until the very end, where they say their spells are just for “entertainment”, so customers are “responsible for all actions or inactions [they] take before and after”.

Etsy is also directly profiting through these health spells. Beyond charging fees on each transaction, the platform makes money through seller ads. When you look up anything on Etsy, the top-right corner shows how many promoted listings appear. Sellers pay the site directly to boost their product, a higher fee for a higher placement, or how many times the product is recommended. A search for “health spells” reveals 1000+ seller ads, and though many are other items added by the algorithm, most are spells claiming to heal illness. In theory, if you flag an account for harmful misinformation, the site should take it down. In practice, a concerning amount remains. 

When asked how it monitors these dangerous listings, Etsy did not respond to any of my emails – again.

Rachel, both a student doctor and witch, says she doesn’t support witches that promise medical miracles. “There’s a slippery slope with magic, and a lot of horrible people prey on the vulnerable,” she says. “It should never replace what your doctor says.” Cecilia adds that in the case of a cold, she’ll enchant the lemon and honey in her own tea, but she’d never advertise that herbs and potions alone can heal. “Some things can’t be cured with intention,” she adds. “If it could, I’d spend all day using my spells to help kids with leukaemia.”

Most of their reviews are full of people that believe their health spell is working, recommending others to buy from that shop. Professor Christopher French offers another psychological explanation behind these beliefs, beyond placebo effects. “Even in terminal illnesses, people have relatively better days and relatively worse days, in a zig zag pattern,” he says. “When someone is at their worst, they’re more likely to buy one of these spells as a last resort. Then at some point, things are likely to improve, even slightly.”

While theory and second-hand accounts are informative, I decide to try it for myself to truly understand the Etsy customer experience, and how these so-called witches market themselves. Avoiding the more exploitative products, I decide to buy a “Soulmate drawing” and a “Money spell”. Since I’ve used the website many times, I should know what to expect. Many of the shops have a vintage, “artsy” feel. Slightly overpriced, but what you’d expect from a website selling bespoke items. But if you search up “spell” or “tarot reading”, expect a visual assault of AI generated content. Though I might find it in me to forgive the odd background picture or two, many images and videos of the “witches” themselves are clearly Chat-GPT generated. Although Etsy technically allows “seller-prompted AI creations” if disclosed, it seems to go against the company’s core value to “keep commerce human”. 

The soulmate drawings are the most obvious example of AI products, which is surprising, given the absurd number of sales some shops have made. ‘ArtZenArtist’ has sold 118,000 drawings, and the steps seem easy. They tell you to pick a style, write your name and birthdate, making sure to note if you “prefer Asians”. Lesbian drawings (now 70% off) are sold separately and still include the option to select a man. The shop claims they use a “mentalist”, “astrograms”, and a “neurohelmet” in the drawing process. Despite the glowing 4.8 star reviews, £28 is too steep for me so I’d have to take my business elsewhere.

‘TarotReadingOracle’ is similar, it doesn’t have a weird racial preference option, and it’s only a fiver. The item description is more of what I expected from a psychic witch, focused on “tarot’s profound mystery” and a “voyage towards self-discovery and enlightenment”. No neurohelmets required. Even then, there’s still strangely amusing errors around sexuality. One review says, “Maybe I should’ve said something but I’m gay. My ‘soulmate’ isn’t gonna be a woman. Lmao.” I absolutely had to find out what I’d get. 

Less than 24 hours later, a “sketch” arrives in my inbox, and it’s immediately clear that it’s AI-generated, just as expected. If you don’t believe me or somehow can’t see the huge red flags, I run it though Hive Moderation’s AI Detection, which determines its AI likelihood at 99%. It’s frustrating to see the sheer number of fake psychics hiding behind this trendy facade of mysticism, and the fact they’re raking in thousands from a sketch created in less than a minute.

Many others have also spotted the use of AI, as their “soulmate” shares a striking resemblance to most other drawings. One customer says both them and their friend received the same person. Another reviewer says, “The images look like basic Caucasian men in every photo. Everyone’s soulmate cannot be Caucasian.” Either this man gets around, or this is another example of AI’s racial bias that may consider white people as the default. 

I then bought a “Powerful Emergency Money Spell”, hoping this time the existence of magic could prove itself useful to me. Alongside that listing, ‘UrsulaSpells’ also offers a much meagre alternative, simply named “Money Spell”, so I think I made a smart choice upgrading. I was promptly sent a grainy image of a lit candle, standing upright in a wet cardboard bowl, filled with dried flowers. What little hope I have is lost after a quick reverse image search – I’m not the only one to receive the same picture.

The seller then contacted me directly, letting me know that while the spell was successful, there were some “disturbances”. Apparently, negative energy is being directed at me by my “toxic” family members, co-workers, and friends. The only possible solution, of course, is to buy their £26 “Negativity removal spell”, linked conveniently below for ease of access. How sweet. 

Unfortunately for me, the spell seems to have backfired somehow, cursing my bank account instead. Not a week later, I received an email from Student Loans informing me they’re going to start pinching money from my payslips. Considering I have two separate loans for two degrees, I’m looking forward to seeing what little I have left. 

Although I’m out of luck, testing the spells actually turned out to be fun. A lot of my entertainment came from laughing at the absurdity of it all, but also a tiny hope something magical might happen. It’s no surprise people like reading the horoscopes at the back of the paper. On your boring commute to your boring job, you suspend your belief for a second when you read, “A new opportunity awaits”, or “Love is coming your way.” You don’t buy it but maybe feel slightly comforted, maybe even act like a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Like horoscopes, Etsy witches are great source of entertainment, yes, but they cannot replace a doctor or therapist, no matter how convincing the sales pitch may be. If you still find yourself bargaining with an Etsy witch, when they crush a handful of cloves, or add a dash of honey – take it with a pinch of salt.