Make Do and Mend

I've been stepping up my mending game recently. 

The linings for my beloved summer purse tore, so I replaced them--with bright blue oxford cloth!

How did I do it? I turned the purse inside out, cut away the old linings, and stitched in the new ones. They are sturdier and more cheerful than the old black linings. 

That's not all I mended. My parents went to Japan in 1970 and brought back beautiful cotton kimonos for my sister and me. Mom had to hem up our kimonos about 5 inches for it to fit us (ages 7 and 8 at the time) and they still reached the ground. When I was in college, I rediscovered my old kimono, took out the hem and started using it as a calf-length dressing gown. I've used it ever since! 

When it started to wear out across the shoulders, I took it apart and discovered a bit of extra fabric folded up into the facings. So I used that bit of fabric to patch a couple holes in the shoulders (using my sewing machine's "mending" stitches). I also used a blanket stitch to reinforce the worn front facings.

Kimono on bed with applique quilt made by my grandmother.

When I was a girl, my mom occasionally darned socks. I think she must have shown me how? But I hadn't done it in years: no one does that anymore! But I had a beautiful pair of socks with hummingbirds on them--and a hole in the sole. So I brushed up on my sock-darning skills (thank you, YouTube), and now I can keep wearing them.

I used gray darning cotton, but that's OK--no one will see it!

There's something about mending items I love that makes me feel happy. Part of it is my thrifty, "I-hate-shopping" mentality. Part of it is that flow state that I enter when I work on a sewing project. Part of it is the sense of pride and satisfaction I have when I've fixed something. I'm a mend-and-make-do person.

Make Do and Mend, the title of this post, is a reference to a campaign in WW2-era Britain. The war effort meant supplies, shipping space, and labor for clothing were tight. In June 1941, clothing rationing began--it continued through 1949! Now I understand all the mending, knitting, and "making do" that happens in early Barbara Pym novels! 

I recently found the British government's Make Do and Mend pamphlet online. It was published in 1943, with instructions and encouragement for people who now needed to "get the last possible ounce of wear" out of their clothes. Want to know how to take care of Macintoshes? Keep moths out of your clothes? Mend your corset (just like Harriet Bede in Pym's Some Tame Gazelle!)? check it out.

The more I hear about fast fashion, the more I indulge my urge to mend and make do! I want to resist buying something new when I can just repair the old. 

It seems that Mending and Making Do has enjoyed a bit of a renaissance, as more people have learned about the way fast fashion harms people and the earth. I've seen some really cool new books about mending--my favorite is this one: isn't the title great?

Although I'm kind of old-school with mending--I usually don't want the mended spot to stand out--I used the author's approach to make mending decorative when I embroidered a little tone-on-tone white lazy daisy flower over a stain on this white sweater. 

At a recent clothing swap event in town--where I heard my former student Emily Stochl give an inspiring talk about resisting fast fashion--I met an event organizer who is hoping to put on a mending workshop. "I would like to lead something like that," I said, and gave her my contact info. 

I hope she contacts me to lead a workshop because I am looking forward to sharing the joys of making do and mending the "imperfect things we love."