Me neither.
Do you know what it *means* to darn a sock?
Me neither. Well, until about ten minutes ago, when someone explained it to me for the sake of this topic.
Darning is a technique used to repair small holes in socks and other garments. Using a needle and thread, you form stitches across the gap of the hole.
We don’t need to know about darning because when a sock gets holey, we throw the pair away. Right? Just as easily, we can purchase a brand-new replacement pair. Maybe even an upgrade – a pair of socks made from a more luxurious material, perhaps boasting a more defining cut or whimsical color and/or pattern.
When clothing goes the way of unfortunate rips, holes, stains, or other malfunctions, the easiest thing to do is replace, replace, replace.
The exchange makes sense because the value of mass-manufactured clothing is considerably less than the labor cost needed for repairs.
We don’t consider breathing new life into these sad garments by mending or patching, recycling or reusing.
Old and unwearable clothing was once used for rags, bandages or even paper. Now it’s disregarded: sent to charities, sold on e-Bay, thrown away to eventually wind up in a landfill somewhere.
We’re accustomed to this convenience. We make purchases that are immediate and disposable from places that are created to serve this very purpose. We want stuff that’s of-the-moment, of style, savvily crafting a look that fits snugly within a familiar cultural device of choice.
There are so many downsides to the mass-manufacturing of clothes. Beyond the huge issue of labor ethics, synthetic clothing is manufactured with the use of petrochemicals. Petrochemicals don’t biodegrade like natural fibers do. The garment pretty much lasts forever, and not in the good way.
Maybe it’s time to be more conscious of where our stuff comes from and who’s creating it. Awareness can yield positive results as we discover items of a higher quality, leading us to engage with nostalgic inclinations to reuse, recycle, and repeat.
I think it would be great if we could revisit the lost art of a seamstress or the work of a really amazing tailor. Clothing fits better and lasts longer, ultimately giving us a better deal in the long run.
Plus, it’s a piece of history! A well-made product that not only tells a story but will – hopefully – stand the test of time.
This post was inspired by Animal Traffic and House of Vintage in Portland, OR. It was also inspired by @SocialMediate.
Did you like this article? Want more? Don’t forget to post your thoughts and feedback in the comments section!
Who cares about knowing how to darn a sock? You should care more about knowing how to right, er, write. It’s “Me neither” not “Me either,” you hot but hopeless dingaling.
Justin:
Thanks for the comment. I appreciate your eye in catching the typo! I don’t have an editor and am new at writing these pieces. Therefore, I really appreciate helpful tips – grammar and otherwise – from readers.
(I have to ask though… is “dingaling” really a word?
You’re correct. The point of the piece is that, YES, no one cares about darning socks. It’s what our grandparents did, and generations before them did – when clothing was timeless and handmade.
My point is that maybe we should think about revisiting that methodology, in a time when garments have become disposable and the manufacturing cost is more than the long-term worth.
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