Beyond the world of luxury, performance-wear brands like Patagonia and North Face have in-house repair services, while trainer brand Veja even offers to fix shoes from other brands in many of its stores, including in London. As well as being the right thing to do from a sustainability perspective, Save Your Wardrobe’s co-founder Hasna Kourda–whose aftercare platform connects a global network of vetted repair service providers for brands like Loro Piana and Maje Paris–points out that when “customers feel they can repair their items through the brand, it strengthens loyalty and trust.”
At the start of my self-imposed challenge, the goal of repairing and restoring my wardrobe felt like uncharted territory. I wasn’t even confident in my ability to sew on a button or stitch a hem–I’ve since learned to do both, but generally speaking, that once commonplace skill hasn’t been passed down. For many of us, it just seems easier to buy new.
An initial audit of my wardrobe revealed a surprising number of items that I had either forgotten about, no longer suited me, or I’d left to repair. These totalled over 20 items, including four pairs of trousers with torn hems and a beige dress with two loose buttons. Plus, there were countless tiny, moth-eaten holes requiring invisible mending by my tailor.
I also sent four pairs of shoes to the 60-year-old specialist service, including a pair of Chanel ballet flats that were cleaned and re-dyed, Chanel suede boots in need of a clean and a new satin toe, and Aeyde ankle boots that needed re-heeling. Then there were my much-loved Jimmy Choo boots. The cost of repairing the inner lining (arranged via the brand’s aftercare service) was ₹26,000–expensive due to the nature of the damage and the need to unstitch them, but with a retail price of ₹1,40,729, 10 years of hard wear, and hopefully more to come, this seemed fair. I don’t think twice about paying for dry cleaning, so I decided to think of these repair costs as a kind of fashion MOT.
When it came to alterations, I rediscovered my Stella McCartney tweed trench coat, which I had bought eight years before, but was too long for me, and got it altered. Another focus was several of my late father’s Richard James suits, which I had never planned on wearing. They sat mostly untouched in my wardrobe as nostalgic reminders of him; I’d occasionally drape one of the blazers over my shoulders, as it made me feel close to him. As part of this challenge, I decided to alter the trousers, which were several sizes too big, to wear the ensemble as a suit. My usual tailor at my local dry cleaners (top tip: they are often very good) altered the trousers for much less than the cost of a new Richard James suit. And though I often wear the jacket on its own, when I wear the full suit, it feels like a lived memory.
In many ways, working out how to extend the life of a pre-existing item in our wardrobe requires more imagination than buying something new. Fellow industry insider Tiffanie Darke, who has pledged to buy only five new items of clothing a year, has also found joy in repairing old pieces in her wardrobe. “Being more intentional about what we buy, and how we take care of our clothes can be incredibly creative,” she tells me over the phone, recalling how she sent a ripped pair of jeans for repair via Save Your Wardrobe, using the Japanese embroidery technique of sashiko.