Paganicon 2026: New Hotel, Same Magic—With a Few Cracks in the Cauldron

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 Paganicon 2026 came in with a venue change, and as expected, that shifted the energy in ways both good and… let’s call them “educational.”

Let’s start with what worked—because quite a bit did.

The Good (And There Was Plenty)

The presenters this year were, overall, solid. Engaging, knowledgeable, and worth the price of admission—exactly what Paganicon has built its reputation on. There’s a reason this event still holds the weight it does in the community.

Some standouts:

  • Laura Tempest Zakroff delivered a fantastic talk on runes and the Tarot—smart, funny, and genuinely insightful. Not fluff. Not recycled nonsense. Actual substance.
  • Lady J Griot brought depth with The Blues is Magic You Can Use. The reminder that magic lives in the silence—the liminal spaces between notes—was one of those moments that sticks.
  • And then there was Celia Farran on Friday night—pure light. Whidbey Island magic at its finest. Her set wasn’t just music, it was an experience. Grounding, expansive, and exactly what the weekend needed.

The party suites, as always, were a highlight. Community, laughter, a little chaos—exactly what they should be. It’s where the real conversations happen, and where the pulse of the event lives after hours. And that Jen lady who sang karaoke Saturday night. Someone please come sign her. She had people turning corners and hustling down to watch her sing. 

And let’s be honest—it was good to see people again. To reconnect. To catch up. And yes, to watch a few old dogs pull out tricks so ancient they probably qualify as folklore at this point. Entertaining doesn’t even begin to cover it.

The Not-So-Great (Because It Wasn’t All Roses)

The new hotel? Rough around the edges—and that’s being generous.

Room cleanliness was unacceptable. We’re talking:

  • Filthy bed skirts
  • Dried… biological matter on the shower curtain
  • Makeup on the floor (not mine)
  • Dust thick enough to write your name in

Housekeeping showed up just enough to say they did—towels replaced, but no actual cleaning. Four nights, and I had to ask for the bed to be made—and even then, no sheet change. The hotel is supposedly addressing it, and they’d better.

Food options were another miss. Limited variety, consistently overpriced, and somehow still disappointing. Twenty dollars for meals that ranged from forgettable to “why did I pay for this?” One night’s highlight was cold pizza—which tells you everything you need to know.

After getting sick from the salad bar on day one, I tapped out and let DoorDash and Caribou Coffee carry me through the rest of the weekend. The hotel coffee? Bitter enough to qualify as punishment, or as a base for war water. 

Accessibility & Security: A Mixed Bag

Security overall was visible and appreciated—credit where it’s due. The one gentleman who was upstairs near the elevators providing our security there, was an absolute delight. 

But the party suite areas? No badge checks.

That created two issues:

  1. Random hotel guests (and their children) wandering into adult spaces
  2. A general lack of boundary enforcement where it mattered most

Add to that the navigation nightmare between upper and lower levels—especially for anyone using a power chair—and it became clear the layout wasn’t fully thought through. Getting between floors required rerouting through the hotel just to find an elevator and re-enter the space.

That’s not inconvenience. That’s exclusion by design oversight.

Vendor Hall: Oversaturated and Underwhelming

The vendor hall was packed—physically and thematically.

Too many vendors selling the same aesthetic:

  • Wire-wrapped crystals
  • Bone-based crafts
  • Resold wholesale products (looking at you, Kheops and Azure Green)

What was missing? Actual working tools. Spell ingredients. Practical magic supplies. I would have loved to have had a spellwork and ritual oil vendor. 

That said, a few vendors absolutely stood out:

  • Owlchemy Arts
  • Laura Tempest Zakroff (again, because consistency matters)
  • Sacred Healing (those crystals were doing the work)
  • And the sword vendors—because sometimes you just need a blade and a little joy. Plus they made my athame. So I will always include them. 

There were also a handful of booths priced like their target audience was royalty. Beautiful work, yes—but priced so far out of reach that it bordered on performance art.

Programming Choices… Let’s Talk About That

The Equinox Ball featured a heavy metal band.

Now—on paper, that might sound edgy. In practice? Not danceable. Not accessible. And for some of us—actively unpleasant.

In my case, it triggered immediate TBI symptoms: headache, light sensitivity, sound overload. That wasn’t a vibe—it was an exit strategy.

Meanwhile, Celia’s performance proved that you can create a powerful, immersive musical experience without rattling the nervous system into submission.

The Side-Eye Section

At one point, I overheard conversations about launching a new festival—apparently intended to compete with Paganicon.

Bold. Ambitious. Possibly delusional.

Paganicon isn’t just an event—it’s infrastructure, history, and community momentum. That’s not something you replicate because you had a good idea over drinks.

Also worth noting: an “unofficial” party suite hosted by a group that didn’t actually book one—just rented rooms and set up shop plus another one set up by an author who was rather rude, interrupting conversations to invite other authors to his "uber private party" and being quite an ass about it. Something we've come to expect from that little tyrant. 

Creative? Sure.


Appropriate? Not even a little.

Final Thoughts

Paganicon 2026 was, at its core, still Paganicon.

The people made it worth it. The presenters (mostly) delivered. The connections, conversations, and community are still the heart of the event—and that hasn’t changed.

But the cracks showed this year.

Venue issues, accessibility gaps, vendor redundancy, and some questionable programming choices all chipped away at the experience.

None of it is unfixable. And I'm proud to say Paganicon is my home festival. 

But all of it needs to be taken seriously if Paganicon wants to keep its place at the top of the heap—because while others may try to rise, this is still the standard they’re measured against.

For now.

My button that I was gifted. I stand with Minneapolis. 

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