The first rule of Etsy Witch Club? Don’t talk about Etsy Witch Club. Unfortunately for me, however, I discovered this detail after agreeing to write about it, so hopefully my Etsy Witch doesn’t read Glamour. It’s been about a month since I first perused Etsy for a suitable sorceress to help me, finding one option (with 2,000 ratings and an average 4.9-star review) that boasted three generations of witches willing to do my bidding for the low price of £16. I’d heard good things about Etsy Witches – one friend told me that she’d paid for a cord-cutting spell for her boyfriend, and he’d suddenly, just, started working on all the issues within their relationship.

Excited by my friend’s results, I’d made a beeline to find options for career and finances – with a brief pit stop at one spell titled “Make him cry and beg for you” (before deciding it was best left alone). At checkout, I filled out a form with my name, birthdate, and provided a short description of the scope of my hopes and dreams (world domination, etc). I then clicked “purchase” filled with the kind of exuberance that only a magical acquisition can bring, and waited.

A few days later, my witch emerged from the internet ether to tell me that my spell had been cast. Alongside her note, she included a photo of the profoundly witchy altar she’d made for me, and provided me with some instructions.

First of all, I was to tell no one about the specifics of the spell (I know, I know), and secondly, she gave me some (optional) drawings and incantations to help strengthen it, with the directive to burn them once my wishes had come to fruition. In the immediate aftermath, things started happening. As a freelance writer, I’d specifically asked for help with a book I’m developing, assistance working with new media outlets (perhaps something on the radio?), and support with maintaining a flow of money, in general. Within a day, I had a promising meeting about my book, and I was paid early for commissions that weren’t due for a month. There was a spring in my step, the universe had my back; everything was coming up Eilidh.

According to my witch, the spell could take up to two months to fully complete, although she said that some elements could transpire sooner – and, it seemed, transpire they did. But, while I was riding high on the wave of wizardry, it appeared that I’d underestimated the astrological succubus lurking around the corner: eclipse season.

For the uninitiated, eclipse season (according to Insta-strology) is a chaotic period filled with mayhem and mania. It is an unwieldy storm of havoc that can rip through lives and upend weeks. In just a fortnight, my best friend broke up with the father of her child, a family member sued for divorce, and I endured my own personal hell that’s best left as a story for another time. And despite being warned by multiple internet sages that eclipse season is not the time for manifestation, I hadn’t factored this into my witch planning. While my work didn’t necessarily take a nosedive, the tornado that ploughed through my life left me mentally depleted, emotionally bedraggled, and physically exhausted. The universe’s good vibe tap was, at least temporarily, turned off.

During this period, the world of Etsy Witches was also plunged into darkness when they were briefly “blamed” for the murder of American Conservative activist, Charlie Kirk. Specifically, Jezebel, a US-based news outlet, had reported two days before his murder that they’d hired an Etsy witch to curse him. This, of course, transpired to be unfathomably bad timing when he was assassinated shortly after – something that I’m sure all parties now regret.