The print newspaper reviving the lost art of personal ads

Nilly von Baibus gets three or four handwritten love letters every week. But she doesn’t read any of them.

They’re responses to ads placed in The Lonely Hearts Club, a newspaper she runs for people who are “tired of swipes, taps and algorithms.” It’s her responsibility to forward each envelope to its intended recipient without ever knowing what’s inside.

I meet Nilly on a Friday in February, the day she’s set to distribute the second issue around London. It’s been a bumper week: she’s just collected more than a dozen letters from her mailbox.

“I’d absolutely love to read them,” she says, spreading the envelopes across our table at Alba Caffe in Whitechapel Gallery. “It’s very tempting. But it’s anonymous!”

A newspaper for 'analog amours'

The idea for The Lonely Hearts Club came from what Nilly calls “a stubborn belief that print is still the most romantic medium.” That and “everyone’s fed up with dating apps,” she says. “They’re boring!”

It costs £35 to place a 40-word ad in the newspaper, and replies must arrive as handwritten letters addressed to the member’s unique code. No DMs or emails allowed.

It’s too soon to know whether any of the correspondence has led to love. Nilly, who is pursuing a PhD on anonymous literature when she’s not working on the newspaper, only launched the project at the beginning of November.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect people to write in so quickly,” she says. “I thought I’d give it half a year to gain momentum.” But two weeks after setting up the website for people to submit ads, the first one came in:

ARE YOU MY WILDLIFE PROTECTOR?
56, female. Kind, sincere, deeply at home in nature, wildlife, wildflowers, bees, starry nights. I love music, good food, good wine and cosy evenings. Seeking a male wildlife protector to share a warm, joyful life. Member #001

By mid-December, more than 80 ads had been submitted by swipe-weary singles – enough to fill (and fund) the first print edition, published on Newspaper Club’s digital tabloids.

"I absolutely adore working with Newspaper Club," says Nilly. "Printing this on newsprint would not have been possible without them. And their customer service team is simply the best!"

Just before Christmas, Nilly crisscrossed London for 14 hours on public transport to personally deliver all 70 copies of the inaugural issue to a handpicked list of cafes, shops and “the sort of pubs where people still talk to strangers.”

“A lot of the venues were empty then and the people I had emailed weren’t there,” says Nilly. “I thought the newspapers might get thrown away, – I had zero expectations. But going back in the new year, everyone was so excited. They’re like, Oh my god it’s you! We love it, our customers love it!”

Growing beyond London

Nilly originally planned to distribute the newspaper only in London, but it wasn’t long before people further afield began asking to place ads and order copies. The second issue, which came out a week before Valentine’s Day, went to 51 venues across London, Bath, Birmingham, Bristol, Dundee, Glasgow, Leeds and Margate.

“One thing I’m really strict about is we only put newspapers in independent venues,” says Nilly. Each location receives two copies of the newspaper, and a sticker on the front covers instructs people to “Read here, leave here.”

This keeps print costs down while embracing the nature of newspapers as something meant to circulate. “You fold it, write a note, pass it on. This is people’s print,” as Nilly puts it.

Digital issues of the newspaper are also available online, and the ads never expire. “Someone looking for love can download all of our issues on our website and respond to an ad, even if it is months old,” explains Nilly.

She also shares a selection of ads on Instagram every week, “all with the intention that they get a lot of love letters coming through!”

Behind the scenes, The Lonely Hearts Club is a small operation, run by Nilly and two friends who help with design and copyediting. Alongside the personal ads,  each issue features a few contributors exploring intimacy and chance encounters – in the latest, a story about a Tinder swindler and an interview with London-based artist Jini Rawlings, whose work examines invisible connections.

More than romance

Back at Alba Caffe, most of the letters spread out on the table are sealed away in envelopes, but one postcard stands out. On the front is a flock of sheep climbing a Scottish hillside. It’s addressed to Member #019 – Broken Thumb and on the back, in neat blue pen, it reads:

I’m definitely not the lass you’re looking for, but wanted to say I hope your thumb is on the mend soon. And that this Highlands postcard returns to you a bit of the joy your text brought me. Cheering your success!

“We can’t guarantee love,” says Nilly. “But we can guarantee a place for connection.”

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