I was born in the 80ies, from a feminist hippie mother, who was part of the ‘silent generation’. She broke a few cycles, but I grew up with the dichotomy of ‘waste not, want not’ and ‘why fix anything if we can just buy it new’. Handwork was one of the things she rebelled against, much like making mashed potato from scratch when there was an instant powdered version. In fact, I come from generations of women in East-Flanders, where the textile industry was strong for centuries, and when I go down the matrilineal line, they are almost all weavers and spinners. I can feel strongly that they all were trying to escape that life, and here I am… spinning and knitting and sewing… for fun!? Maybe most of them did enjoy it though, and were just trying to escape the effects of industrialisation, and the patriarchy. My mother certainly was. She would sigh and tell me how much work it would be, and how difficult when I wanted to make something, or mend something. I think secretly, she didn’t have the patience to spend too much time on one thing, and may have been somewhat a collector of hobbies.
I suppose I am a newer generation of feminist, who believes in the right for women to choose for themselves, in bodily autonomy, and where handwork and crafts, much like pink, are of no less value than black and business plans. How are we going to bring down the patriarchy, if we don’t band together and value each other?
But also: how are we going to bring down the patriarchy if the planet is burning? So I would suggest we start the way everything starts: with something small. If we mend the clothes we have, we won’t need to buy anything new. You don’t need to be good at sewing (it helps though), you don’t need to be able to make your own clothes. Start with what you have, and go from there. When an item of clothing is unsalvageable: strip it for parts. Keep the buttons, zips, fabric scraps. Keep them in sweetie tins and mint tins and jam jars. If you have a matching set of buttons, string them together with some string, or even on a bent paperclip! Channel that granny energy, because their pattern of consumption was much more sustainable.
When I sew or mend, I feel connected to my ancestors. They quietly (I think) mended and darned and curated, and loved, and hated all of it. I feel connected to the person who made my clothes, whether it is me, my mum, or somebody who likely wasn’t paid near enough for their work.
I love visible mending, because it is such a revolutionary statement. I am emphasizing the fact that I choose to mend something, over sponsoring a very sick and polluting industry. It allows me to show my personality, my taste, my art, my love for the person I am mending for. I mend with scraps from other garments, or scraps that my mother had held onto, or even buttons that came from my grandmother’s (or grandmother-in-law’s!) stash.
Do you want to join this little revolution? I believe strongly we need to do this in community. Sad and lonely hearts only become bitter and vengeful. Let’s combat this cold society by mending our clothes and each other. Tell me about your latest mend, your first ever mend, your favourite mend!
I suppose I am a newer generation of feminist, who believes in the right for women to choose for themselves, in bodily autonomy, and where handwork and crafts, much like pink, are of no less value than black and business plans. How are we going to bring down the patriarchy, if we don’t band together and value each other?
But also: how are we going to bring down the patriarchy if the planet is burning? So I would suggest we start the way everything starts: with something small. If we mend the clothes we have, we won’t need to buy anything new. You don’t need to be good at sewing (it helps though), you don’t need to be able to make your own clothes. Start with what you have, and go from there. When an item of clothing is unsalvageable: strip it for parts. Keep the buttons, zips, fabric scraps. Keep them in sweetie tins and mint tins and jam jars. If you have a matching set of buttons, string them together with some string, or even on a bent paperclip! Channel that granny energy, because their pattern of consumption was much more sustainable.
When I sew or mend, I feel connected to my ancestors. They quietly (I think) mended and darned and curated, and loved, and hated all of it. I feel connected to the person who made my clothes, whether it is me, my mum, or somebody who likely wasn’t paid near enough for their work.
I love visible mending, because it is such a revolutionary statement. I am emphasizing the fact that I choose to mend something, over sponsoring a very sick and polluting industry. It allows me to show my personality, my taste, my art, my love for the person I am mending for. I mend with scraps from other garments, or scraps that my mother had held onto, or even buttons that came from my grandmother’s (or grandmother-in-law’s!) stash.
Do you want to join this little revolution? I believe strongly we need to do this in community. Sad and lonely hearts only become bitter and vengeful. Let’s combat this cold society by mending our clothes and each other. Tell me about your latest mend, your first ever mend, your favourite mend!
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