Make Do and Mend
I was drawn to the idea of clothes mending last year when I started to really look at my choices and the environmental impact they had. I’m rather embarrassed to say that I spent so many years not thinking about it, but I have always preferred to buy used when I could and I wear things until they wear out, so I wasn’t doing half bad anyway. However, I don’t think I was really prepared for how much joy it would bring me to fix my clothes. Just today I pulled on some yoga pants that used to have a tiny hole, and that I had made my first quick project months ago. Maybe it’s silly, but I was so proud and happy to see that they are still functioning so well.
I know I can’t slow down climate change simply by choosing not to buy a new pair of yoga pants. I’ve mostly made peace with how small my role is in the world in other ways, but I’ve realized the pursuit of mending is about more than that. I’m starting to think there really is something sacred that happens when we learn to make things new, when we help something—even just a pair of pants—become whole again. I can’t make very much (although I am so excited to be finishing up my first knitted hat this week) but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn to make things better.
For me, learning means going and finding a book on the subject; step one of any project is to head to the library. I can’t remember where I read the recommendation, but someone somewhere (probably substack) suggested Mending Life, and I’m so glad our library had it. It’s a thoughtful and introspective look at the value of mending, and of course it is full of practical step-by-step guides on a variety of mending methods. I am now trying my hand at my first sashiko mending—a method I just learned about from the book—on a pair of my husband’s pants that are too far gone to be work pants any longer. I figured that made them an excellent candidate for me to learn on. This post on the history of sashiko showed up in my feed this week, and provides not only important context and beautiful examples but also a glimpse into why mending practices are calling to people like me these days. Maybe I can be part of a movement!
At first, this may seem to be a very small theme for an essay on a week when so many big things are going badly. Thanks to our spineless and/or cruel Republican Congresspeople, the American gestapo will be getting billions and billions of funding to carry out their state sponsored terrorism on a wider scale, a concentration camp is being built in Florida, and so many things are being done to increase the suffering of regular people and line the pockets of the super-rich. I don’t think I’ve ever spent an Independence Day with as much sadness in my heart for what my country could be—and what it is instead—as I feel this year.
For some momentary distraction and cheer, I decided to spend the holiday watching some of my favorite British shows: Good Neighbors (or The Good Life as it was called over there when it aired in the ‘70s) and The Repair Shop. If you’ve seen either, you know the theme of mending comes up repeatedly in both. (If you haven’t watched either, what are you doing with your life anyway?) I grew up watching Good Neighbors reruns on PBS and loved how real and entertaining the relationships felt, and even though their brand of self-sufficiency probably would never work outside of a sitcom, I have always been inspired by Tom and Barbara’s attempt to do something different and challenging just for the sake of doing it. In just the few episodes I watched this week, not only did they buy a loom to make their own clothes, but there was a whole story line about Barbara trying out new mending tricks she had just learned, much to the chagrin of their posh neighbor Margot. In another episode, Margot made a reference to their “make do and mend” lifestyle—the motto of a campaign by the British government during World War II to reduce consumption and conserve precious resources. It’s such a pity that these kinds of efforts usually take something like a war to get people on board, but I like to think that the characters of Good Neighbors helped lay the foundation in my childhood for me to pursue a different path.
And then there’s The Repair Shop. I truly despise the vast majority of reality TV, but this show is different. (I’m sure it helps that it’s British and not American.) The craftspeople who work on this show are simply amazing, both in their talent and in their dedication to helping people fix cherished items. When I first started watching, I was fascinated by the technical skills, but now I have to say I get most excited when the “teddy bear ladies” are featured—bringing back to life plushes and dolls from people’s childhoods. The memories and love associated with these toys always makes me so emotional to see. My mom made and repaired my toys when I was a kid, and I love getting to mend my daughter’s toys now. Just last week, she and I nostalgically watched the Peter Rabbit movies together, and afterwards she came downstairs carrying her old Peter Rabbit plush, who was sadly starting to come apart at the seams and had an unpleasant stain on his chest. So I stitched him up, gave him an adorable heart patch (from a scrap of one of my husband’s old shirts), and gave him back to grace her shelves once again, perhaps even in pride of place.
I think mending could perhaps be called an act of resistance, as resistance can come in many forms. More than that, I see mending as an act of restoration. This world breaks so many things, and so many hearts, and right now the breakers seem to be the ones winning and being celebrated. But that can’t last forever. Our world will need people to pick up the pieces and put things back together. People like me may be most powerful in what we show to the next generation, because I fear they will be tasked with doing the majority of the work. It is my hope that my daughter not only appreciates the mending I do for her, but values the idea of taking the time to fix what’s been broken. And as long as I can thread a needle, I’ll do my part too.
