The ceramics stall that learned which mugs people loved

A ceramics maker who sells at a weekend craft market. Hand-thrown mugs, each one a little different – speckled glazes, off-white matte, deep ocean blues. People love her table. They stop, they pick mugs up, they turn them in the light, they smile. And then, often as not, they put them back down and walk away.

That was the quiet frustration. A busy stall full of admirers isn't the same as a busy stall full of buyers, and she could never tell the two apart. Which mugs actually resonated? Which ones did people fall for but just couldn't justify that day? She had sales figures, but sales hide as much as they show – plenty of pieces people adored never made it to the till.

The idea came from another maker down the row. A small card by each batch of mugs: "Love this one? Leave a like." A shopper who fell for a mug but wasn't ready to buy could just tap. One person, one like, no wallet required, no awkward "maybe next time."

The first weekend surprised her. The ocean-blue mugs she'd nearly stopped making collected likes all day – far more than the safe cream ones that actually sold. People weren't buying the blues, but they clearly loved them. The speckled batch she was quietly proud of? Barely a tap. Honest, slightly humbling, exactly what she needed.

The next week she brought more blues and fewer speckled, and the likes started turning into sales. Over a few markets a clear picture formed: bring more of what people light up over, less of what they walk past. The likes did what no sales sheet could – they counted the love, not just the transactions.

What she likes most is how gentle it all is. A like asks nothing of anyone. No card, no commitment, no salesperson hovering. Just a small, quiet way for someone to say "this one's beautiful" and move on – and for her to finally hear it.