I started sewing when I was very young. Likely five or six, but most definitely before I was seven. My mother started me off with embroidery. I remember embellishing tea towels and pillow cases as I learned the basic stitches, lazy daisy being my favorite because of the name. My Barbie dolls wore a variety of couturier outfits and gowns crafted from socks and scraps.
I have very early memories of visiting my aunt, and being enthralled with her darning and mending. As the eldest of my mother’s sisters, Auntie Al had lived through the depression and the second world war as a young adult and had learned skills for economy. Handwork for her was not a pastime, it was work. Not only did she knit socks on a square of four slim needles, but she also had bobbins and sewing needles of all sizes, a basket of wool scraps, and a perfect egg-shaped piece of wood on a stick. This ‘darning egg’ was used when carefully weaving wool into the heels of old worn socks to restore them for use. Although my fingers were itching to touch these treasures, I don’t remember her teaching me. As with all things, she had a very strict “look but don’t touch” policy for children. I did however watch for hours, spellbound and recording her skills in my memory.
In my teens, the 1970’s saw a resurgence of sewing and patching and embroidering, but mostly for decorative purposes, never for repair or from necessity or desire to reuse and recycle. In most cases, seemed more about cutting up new things to make them look old.
These days, with my rekindled love of hand sewing, I am aware of the ‘slow fashion’ movement. From the ecological sustainability stance there is a growing concern with the detrimental effects of fast, cheap, exploitative fashion and an urging for people to return to more local, natural and ethically sourced quality fashions. With this of course comes the desire to make those quality fashions last as long as possible by, you guessed it, mending!
My first adventure into mending for purpose was an attempt to save a beloved pair of Japanese wool socks. They seemed an extravagance when I bought them, but they’ve kept my feet cozy for almost a decade and I love them. I noticed the heels wearing thin and thought I’d soon have to part with them. That’s when I remembered the wool, the egg, and my aunt’s patient weaving of patches into old socks to create new heels. I wish I knew where that darning egg was today! No worries, online shopping has everything and I soon found a wooden darning mushroom that does the trick.
Hmm, this mending with purpose was getting interesting and I went on a hunt for clothes that needed some TLC. I remembered a beautiful wool sweater, this piece pushing 20 years. It had last been seen somewhere in the basement and that’s where I found it in a heap and riddled with moth holes. I had always loved the soft luxury of this sweater and I guess that is why I’d never been able to part with it. It’s important when mending to use fabrics of like weight and composition and for this one I was lucky to find some muted, earth tone remnants of wool in my stash that went perfectly with the soft charcoal sweater. Some of the holes were sizable, but with the weight and thickness of the wool, and by letting the holes dictate the placement, I was able to fill the sweater with a field of wild flowers.
Of course, I’ve been reading up on techniques that go beyond lazy daisy and basic embroidery stitches. Seems the only thing I love buying more than fabric is books and I promise to give you a few recommended titles at the end of this blog.
Sashiko, is a traditional Japanese technique that uses the design principles of simplicity and repetition. It is recognizable as patterns of precise white stitching on indigo fabrics. Boro, another Japanese technique, uses sashiko stiches to secure patches under and over holes in old clothing. Rather than being hidden as invisible mending, both of these techniques add not only to the strength and durability of fabric, but also to its beauty. There are lots of books available to explain the techniques in detail and a quick internet search will produce some beautiful images. A few old pairs of pajama bottoms that had blown out large tears in the rump provided me the opportunity to give it a try. I adapted the ideas of shashiko and boro to suit my purpose.
In the spirit of slow fashion, sustainability, and being an eco-friend, I’m trying to convert to buying only ‘real’ fiber fashions. This will mean a return to more pure and blended cottons, linens and wool. I admit to a preference for these fibers, but I need to work at the price adjustment. A newly acquired cashmere/cotton sweater, after only about three wears, snagged and got a dime-size hole right on the front hem. Time to toss it? Noooo, not with my burgeoning mending skills. I tried free-style stitching, first in a pink lazy daisy stitch to replicate the knit, and then overlaying with a random blue and purple pattern to add depth. Looks a bit like a scribble, but I like it. This bespoke patch now adorns my hemline, waiting for the day when the sweater calls for more.
It can be tricky ordering books electronically, without being able to flip through them and carefully weigh their content/illustration/value balance. I have come across two favorites to recommend if you want to give mending a try.
The first, Visible Mending, Repair, Renew, Reuse The Clothes You Love, by Arounna Khounnoraj offers suggestions for basic equipment, a good primer of stiches and a nice breadth of techniques. The second half of the book is the ‘how-to’ for a large number of projects to try out the techniques. This section gives the beginner step-by-step instruction for specific projects, but could also be a jumping off point for more the experienced.
The second, I regrettably purchased in electronic form. I say regrettably, because I ended up liking this little book so much I wish I had it in hard copy for quick reference and to lend to others. Mending Life, A Handbook for Repairing Clothes and Hearts, by Nina and Sonya Montenegro is a small, fun book that advocates for repairing and mending rather than discarding and replacing clothes. Offered through a series of family stories and memories, the sisters give solid information on basic equipment and techniques simple enough for a child or beginner, but thorough enough to be useful even to a seasoned sewer. This handbook offers instruction on darning, patching and other common repairs as well as altering, hemming and adding pockets! For those of you in the Kingston area, I spotted a hard-cover copy of this little gem in Novel Idea, our local, independent bookstore.
I hope this inspires you to mend your way (pardon the pun) into reclaiming, reusing, and recycling fashion. Have fun and enjoy the everyday beauty of your work!
Darn it! I did find some moth damage on two wool sweaters – I’ll let you know how the repairs go.
I, too, remember the 70’s and the extreme effort we put into making new clothes look old. You present a reversal of perspective, Elaine. I love the wildflower garden on “the old gray mare,” a sweater which many of us would have simply discarded.
This is great, Elaine. #TheJoan is currently turning my favourite hole-ridden wool sweater into a work of art. You two should talk!