Forget the prosecco-fueled weekends—there’s a new kind of girls’ getaway emerging, and it’s all about adventure, creativity, and connection. But here’s where it gets controversial: can a weekend of pottery, yoga, and jewelry-making really replace the traditional ‘girls’ night out’? Let’s dive in and find out.
Imagine stepping into a quaint Welsh market town where the air is thick with the scent of hand-poured candles. Welcome to Llandeilo, a creative haven nestled in Carmarthenshire, Wales. This isn’t your typical tourist spot—it’s a place where the famous Dinefwr wool blankets are woven, and arts and crafts shops like the Little Welsh Dresser beckon with rows of handmade treasures. My friend Anna and I were immediately drawn to a mug stamped with the word Cwtch. Pronounced ‘kutch,’ it’s a Welsh term with no direct English translation. ‘It’s a big, warm hug,’ the shop owner explained, ‘but also a feeling, a sense of belonging.’ Little did we know, this word would become the theme of our weekend.
We were in Carmarthenshire to experience The Sisterhood breaks, a new offering from Discover Carmarthenshire that’s part of a growing trend: women trading bubbly-filled weekends for trips focused on skill-building and wellbeing. And this is the part most people miss—it’s not just about the activities; it’s about the connections you forge along the way. Whether you opt for a pre-curated stay or create your own bespoke trip, the options are endless. Think glamping pods, rustic barns, and experiences led by local experts—from potters and foragers to horse whisperers and massage therapists.
Our home for the weekend was Ardderfin Farmhouse, a charming stone cottage on the outskirts of Carmarthen. With its clawfoot bath and roaring fireplace, it felt like stepping into the cozy cottage from The Holiday. After settling in, we drove into town for dinner at The New Curiosity, a seasonal-menu restaurant run by Rachel Williams and her chef husband, Daniel. ‘Carmarthen is still a tight-knit community,’ Rachel told us as we savored a perfectly cooked Welsh sirloin. ‘Everyone here knows each other—my home is your home.’
The next morning, we headed into the hills to meet Yoka Kilkelly, the ‘Dutch potter on the hill,’ at her Siramik studio. Inside her converted barn, flecks of clay adorned the slate walls. We began with wedging—kneading the clay to remove air bubbles—a task that requires serious muscle. ‘No potter has bingo wings,’ Yoka joked as we struggled to mimic her effortless technique. Then came the potter’s wheel, where Anna and I coaxed our clay into shape. ‘A person’s personality shapes their pot,’ Yoka observed. Mine became a coffee cup; Anna’s, a bowl. As we glazed our creations, Yoka noted, ‘It’s a mindful practice.’ With winter sunlight streaming through the windows and clay spinning in my hands, I felt utterly present.
In the afternoon, we drove to Llansteffan for a walk along the Tywi estuary. The tide had receded, leaving behind a trail of bone-white cockle shells and shallow pools reflecting the pinkening sky. Anna, an avid birder, scanned for curlews and egrets, camera in hand. It was a rare moment to see her in her element.
Back at the farmhouse, we met Lowri Johnston, a yoga teacher and organic flower farmer. After a gentle yoga session, she taught us to make willow wreaths adorned with ivy, eucalyptus, pine cones, and dried dahlias from her farm. ‘I love this because it connects people to the seasons and the land,’ Lowri said. She shared that the Welsh word for sisterhood is chwaeroliaeth, meaning ‘sisters together.’ In Wales, women have long gathered while making food—milking, churning butter, and more.
As Anna and I enjoyed a gourmet picnic of homemade meatballs and ginger cake, we reflected on the day. The fire crackled, and we talked late into the night, wrapped in the warmth of cwtch. The next day, we met Elen Bowen, a former teacher turned jeweler, who guided us in crafting our own silver pieces. Anna made a bracelet; I made a ring. Over a bowl of her homemade cawl (Welsh stew), we laughed and shared stories.
By the end of the weekend, I realized cwtch wasn’t just a hug—it was the feeling of being gathered in by every woman we’d met. It was the perfect word for a weekend of fun, food, and deeper connection. But here’s the question: Can a weekend like this truly replace the traditional girls’ night out? Or is it something entirely different—a complement, perhaps? Share your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear your take!
