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If Becky Johnson were to crochet her current fiscal predicament, it would likely resemble a bright, bitter pill.

For five years, the cheerful craft entrepreneur has made a living selling hand-made buttons and crocheted neck warmers.

But those threads are unravelling. People who used to buy her pieces are now getting crafty, and are sewing, knitting and gluing together their own creations in a bid to save cash.

What has become a good-news story for Toronto's supply stores, knit cafés and craft instructors is a tough tale for anyone selling their wares.

"Being in the DIY craft community is a double-edged thing," Ms. Johnson said amiably, as she looped yarn at a group craft night this week.

"On the one hand, we have businesses to sell things, but then also the idea is that people should be making their own stuff."

In the friendly world of craft, professionals don't resent this change. They'll share tips and advice, and even host free workshops to pass on the skills.

But that could spur newcomers to such levels that they, too, consider going into the craft business.

"It's a weird cycle," local craft doyenne Jen Anisef acknowledged.

The creator of TorontoCraftAlert.ca and co-founder of City of Craft said a number of trends are converging on the sector: Sales slumps are being leavened by the buy-local movement; the environmental benefit of recycling has been boosted by an immediate economic incentive.

At Leslieville knitting café Purple Purl, learn-to-knit classes are sold out, yarn sales remain strong and drop-in sessions fill with the clicking of needles.

"People are realizing it's a good and easy and inexpensive way to spend their time, so it's certainly attracting new people. You may spend $100 to get the supplies for a sweater, but that sweater takes quite a while to make," co-owner Miko Schechter said.

"It used to be considered a grandmother hobby that was done [in] solitary. I think that myth has been broken."

From the Drunken Knitters who gather in a city pub to knit each month, to a craft supply swap party at Bloor Street West's Freedom Clothing Collective tomorrow afternoon, the city is awash in creativity.

But that does little to help the professionals.

Ms. Johnson's business, the Sweetie Pie Press, was growing steadily until last year. Then, during a six-month tour of craft fairs in the United States, Ms. Johnson saw a drastic change in attitude as "everything just crashed."

"We saw it in people's faces," she said. "People were saying they love our stuff, but they didn't know if they would have their jobs next week." Since then, business has dropped significantly.

Ms. Johnson's finances are hurting, but her craftiness has proved a boon: She's making what she needs, and fixing what's broken.

In that, she's not alone. The Workroom owner Karyn Valino says her most popular classes are for making curtains, underwear and anything that uses scraps.

"It's pretty exciting, because it just makes people really creative," Ms. Valino said. "A blanket isn't just a blanket any more. It could be stuffed toys for children, or slippers, or holiday stockings."

As one woman created a feather-trimmed hat and another sewed a quilt for a friend's newborn at the Parkdale store's monthly craft night, Berkley Brady happily pieced together black polka-dot underwear with green pom-pom trim.

The graphic designer had just lost her next client, leaving her in economic limbo, but said it wouldn't stifle her craft.

"I think it's a feeling of control. You're doing things," she said. "It's sort of a can-do feel, and that can be empowering. I'm in a great mood right now. I'm busy, doing my own thing."

The personal economy is a series that looks at people in the Toronto region coping with the economic downturn. To share your story, write Tenille Bonoguore at tbonoguore@globeandmail.com