30-year-old turned her junk journaling hobby into a business after being laid off from dream job

Nandi Owolo’s first foray into junk journaling came by accident.

One day in June 2024, Owolo fell while walking her dog. “I started junk journaling because I broke my foot on my birthday, of all days,” she tells CNBC Make It.

She was homebound on doctor’s orders for two months of recovery. Then, by way of some TikTok scrolling, junk journaling came into her life.

The L.A. resident says junk journaling, described as “as a cross between scrapbooking, creative journaling and collage art,” made her feel crafty for the first time in her life. “I personally think that I have no artistic skill,” says Owolo, now 30. “I can’t draw; I can’t knit; I can’t paint.”

Arranging and gluing down souvenirs, photos and stickers into chaotically colorful spreads? That she could do.

Junk journaling, also considered “Gen Z’s version of scrapbooking,” has taken off in recent years. Enthusiasts say they like that the hobby keeps them off their phones. It taps into the nostalgia of collecting and displaying physical media. And there are no rules in arranging personal mementos from the grand, like concert tickets or birthday cards, to the everyday, like a restaurant napkin or coffee sleeve.

The hobby is “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” come to life, and its embrace of imperfection is part of the appeal, Owolo says: “It’s an artistic medium in which you can do whatever you want with the page,” she says.

Junk journaling, a cross between scrapbooking, creative journaling and collage art, has taken off in recent years thanks to enthusiasts wanting a screen-free creative hobby.

Courtesy of Nandi Owolo

Add in an element of in-person gathering, which many young people are craving post-pandemic, and Owolo says she felt she had a hit on her hands.

Two months after beginning her own crafting journey, Owolo launched the social media handles for Junk Journal Club and hosted her first meetup through a local social club where she was a member. The event quickly reached maximum capacity at 35 people, which Owolo says signaled to her that there was a big demand.

Owolo soon held her second event at a park with 60 people. A year and a half later, she now regularly hosts ticketed events for 20 to 30 guests at $35 to $50 a pop between one and three times per month.

Owolo says she believes her Junk Journal Club is the first U.S. club dedicated to hosting real-life events for the hobby. 

She also launched a Discord channel for users around the world to connect, share inspiration, post their pages and send each other care packages via a pen pal program. The group now boasts nearly 2,000 members around the U.S. and internationally, including Canada, Germany, Australia and beyond.

From job loss to entrepreneurship

She found her first partner in Nuuly, the clothing rental service, which came about from “sheer emailing and networking,” Owolo says. The brand covered the cost of supplies and other fees for an event in November, making it free for guests. It was also the first time Owolo was paid as a creator to make several Instagram Reels videos for the clothing company’s social media feeds.

Throughout the fall, Owolo says she hosted five collaborative events, including with artist and creative director Ramisha Sattar, Australia-based artist and author Martina Calvi (whom Owolo calls the “junk journaling queen”), and Paramount Pictures to promote its movie “Regretting You.”

There’s so much overwhelming noise in the world right now. Junk journaling is a great way to quiet that noise.

Owolo says she was reluctant to call herself an entrepreneur as someone who had, up until now, never tried to make money from a side hustle.

“It almost felt fraudulent,” Owolo says. She questioned herself: “Am I allowed to call myself an entrepreneur? Am I allowed to call this a business? And eventually I was like, ‘I absolutely am allowed to call it that.’ It just took a while.”

Growing the business in 2026

Take control of your money with CNBC Select

CNBC Select is editorially independent and may earn a commission from affiliate partners on links.

I was laid off 10 months ago—here's how I still pay my $2,800 mortgage

Source link

Please follow and like us:
Pin Share

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *