‘Some things are well-worn because they are well-loved’: Patching the world one sock at a time

Falling down the rabbit hole of ‘visible mending’ on Instagram, Christine Manby discovers the sustainable art of patching old clothes

Who knew that watching videos of people patching their jeans and darning the elbows of threadbare jumpers could be so inspiring? (Tom Ford)

It all began with a picture on Instagram of a colourful patch which a friend had sewn onto his trousers, accompanied by the hashtag #visiblemending. One click on that hashtag and I was obsessed. Who knew that watching videos of people patching their jeans and darning the elbows of threadbare jumpers could be so inspiring? Mending may be born of necessity but it doesn’t have to be about simply making something last a little longer. Each day, Instagrammers post new examples of #visiblemending that almost make one long for a hole to appear in the knee of one’s jeans. Patches become pictures, adding whimsy and joy to everyday items of clothing. They’re an opportunity to add colour and individuality to the ordinary. In one particularly skilful repair posted online, the rows of stitches resembled Van Gogh’s brushstrokes.

Mending clothes with pretty patches and exquisite embroidery belongs to the same tradition as “kintsugi”, the Japanese art of mending cracks in porcelain with lacquer dusted in gold or silver powder. There’s no hiding the cracks so kintsugi makes them a feature with the result that the mended object often looks even more beautiful than before. Of course there’s a Japanese name for patching your jeans in the most artistic way possible too. Welcome to the art of “sashiko”.

The word “sashiko” means “little stabs”. It uses running stitch – the simplest of sewing stitches – to reinforce or repair worn patches and tears. Most commonly, white cotton is used on blue cloth, like denim, in geometric patterns that resemble stylised waves, mountains or flowers. By employing the sashiko philosophy, mending can become a means of self-expression. Looking at a teeny tiny embroidered flower covering up a hole in an old striped tee-shirt, a visit from a moth suddenly has the potential to be a blessing, offering as it does an excuse to get creative. And where’s there’s creativity, there’s mindfulness.

Mindfulness requires that we live in the moment and so does sewing. When you’re sewing by hand, you can only work so quickly. It requires focus and concentration. It’s hard to think about the emails backing up in your in-box and stitch at the same time. And when you’ve finished, there’s the satisfaction of holding your masterpiece in your hands, knowing that, to paraphrase Instagrammer Addie Best @abeststudio and her mending manifesto, you can “mend your shirts and amend your mindset”.

Emma Mathews understands the joy of mending. When she wanted to find work that combined her love of crafting with her passion for sustainability, she looked at the fashion industry and realised that “while most items of clothing can be bought second-hand, that’s not true of underwear and socks, which are usually thrown away when they become worn-out or holed.” Mathews approached WRAP (the Waste and Resources Action Programme) to find out how best to make new socks more eco-friendly. WRAP advised that the most sustainable socks are simply the most durable. They’re socks that last.

With that in mind, Mathews created Socko. Socko’s socks are made exclusively from yarn sourced from UK factories that would otherwise end up in landfill. “They’re made of off-cuts and dead-stock. Perhaps the yarn’s the end of a colourway or might be slightly streaky, but that doesn’t matter for socks, where you can be more creative even if the rest of your outfit has to be quite conservative.”

Because they’re made from whatever’s available, Socko’s socks are made in small runs. They have names, like Amstrad, Sinclair and Binatone. They are made in a family-run factory in Leicester and hand-finished. Mathews is keen to support local business and ensure that the craftspeople she works with, all of whom she knows by name, are fairly paid. She says, “I wanted to do right by the planet and right by the makers I work with.”

In a world that is facing a lot of environmental problems, there seem to be a lot of solutions in the way we did things in the past

Most importantly, Socko’s socks are made to last because they are made to be mended when the time comes. Mathews explains, “In a world that is facing a lot of environmental problems, there seem to be a lot of solutions in the way we did things in the past.” Which brings us back to stitching. Mathews isn’t just making new socks, she’s also hoping to revive the lost art of darning.

Two generations ago, darning was a life skill that most people had in their repertoire but recent surveys have shown a massive decline in the ability to sew. These days, less than 35 per cent of us would feel confident enough to fix a hole in a sock by hand. To fix that knowledge gap, Mathews runs Socko darning workshops all over the country. They draw attendees from a large demographic, with a wide age range and gender mix. The workshops last two and a half hours and cost £40, which isn’t cheap, but then neither is throwing away dozens of pairs of socks that might have hung on a little longer. And though darning works best for knitted fabrics, it’s not just socks you’ll be able to fix afterwards. Mathews explains, “If you can darn, you can patch.” Over the course of a lifetime, a darning workshop should definitely prove worth the investment. “Darning is a skill that has a purpose as well as aesthetic benefits. And it’s therapeutic,” Mathews adds.

In keeping with Mathews’ mission to make darning hip again, Socko socks come with their own bespoke mending kits – a darning needle and yarn and instructions on how to use them. Mathews has also commissioned for her shop a series of hand-turned solid wooden darning eggs. “Made by Liz in her garden shed workshop in Berkshire from reclaimed beech wood.”

I asked Mathews if her customers send her pictures of their darned Sockos. “It hasn’t happened yet,” she says, perhaps testament to the socks’ durability.

Mending and alterations are a huge social media trend right now. It’s not just about getting busy with a needle. Elsewhere, Instagrammers are going nuts for videos of handbags and shoes undergoing restoration. The Instagram account for The Restory, a company which provides luxury aftercare for shoes, bags and other leather goods, has almost 36,000 followers. Their video of a white Chanel handbag that had seen better days being cleaned and refreshed with a new layer of paint has had more than 7,600 views, while the gentle cleaning of a Louis Vuitton holdall has been watched more than 13,000 times.

Somewhere along the line, we lost the notion that something as small as a sock is worth repairing but views are definitely changing. We want to buy less, buy better and throw fewer things away. Even little things. We’re seeing a swing towards a world in which a patch could be a badge of honour.

Visible mending is not about making things look brand new. It’s about recognising that, like The Velveteen Rabbit, some things are well-worn because they are well-loved. In my opinion, looking loved is always better than looking shop-fresh.