Articles | May Watkinson

Mending clothes to combat fast fashion

You’ll probably have heard by now about “fast fashion” and have a vague sense that’s its probably a bad thing for the planet. And, technically, you’d be right – only “bad” doesn’t quite cover it. Think more… apocalyptically catastrophic.

In the UK, around 300,000 tonnes of used clothes are either burnt (which releases carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases into the atmosphere) or are simply buried in landfill, taking 200 years to decompose. The fast fashion industry is just one aspect of the plague of consumerism that is destroying our planet.

So, what can we do? How can we fight back? Mend! Extending the life of our clothing by just an extra couple of years decreases their carbon footprint by 24%.

Now, I was fortunate enough to grow up with a mother who was a savant in all things crafty and handmade, but in today’s age learning how to sew is just a YouTube video away – all you need is a needle and some thread, and before you know it, you’ll be the next Esme Young. From an undone hem, reinforcing worn material, holes or rips, covering stains, or just putting sensible pockets in women’s jeans, I can guarantee you there’s a tutorial for it online.

For the intermediaries and experts of the sewing world, there’s a whole host of new trends to follow (my favourite at the moment is Sashiko Embroidery) but for the beginners the three main ways of mending clothes are: embroidery, darning, or patching.

And it doesn’t have to be perfect! ‘Visible Mending’ is gaining in popularity, from darning socks using funky colours or embroidering flowers over a hole in your favourite top, you can add your own style and create an entirely unique piece.

It’s easy to be thrifty when finding material for patches as well; you could cut up old clothes that no longer fit (thanks to what I’m referring to as the ‘pandemic chub’) or keep an eye out in charity shops for any material you like: bed sheets or clothes – or, just trust me on this – toddler tops. They’re usually big enough to get two patches out of, have adorable designs on, and are dirt cheap.

But what about when you really, really need new clothes? Sustainable clothing brands are becoming more prominent on the market, using ethically sourced materials and with reduced energy emissions and waste creation. But, whilst they are brilliant – they are also notoriously expensive, and with the cost of living rising faster than a bride’s nightie, it’s not something everyone can afford.

However, even just buying second-hand can help to combat the harmful trend of wearing something once and then chucking it; charity shops, eBay, or apps like Vinted are all good places to look. And, if you can learn to alter clothes it will open up your options even further. Trousers too long? Dress that would look better as a shirt? You can even add an extra panel to a top that’s too small, or make a shapeless dress more fitting by adding some elastic at the waist.

So, whether you’re mending something old, or altering something new (that is, new to you), know that you’re doing your part to resist against fast fashion and the calamitous effect it’s having on our planet.

Becoming a first-time Mum during the Pandemic

I discovered I was pregnant in January 2020, while England was still casually remarking “that virus in Wuhan looks a bit dodgy, doesn’t it?”; and by my due date, as everyone knows, all hell had broken loose.

It wasn’t the easiest of pregnancies even in the best of times, having spent the first half with my head in the nearest toilet, and the second half unable to walk due to joint pains; but COVID determined the whole affair became a completely isolating experience.

Disregarding such frivolities as baby showers and other celebrations, me and my partner were left out in the cold in terms of actual practical information. In-person birthing classes were replaced with a glorified YouTube tutorial, and health visitors were now strictly virtual – when you could get hold of them.

And this wasn’t an isolated experience: a study from the University of Bristol during the first lockdown found that many pregnant women reported a loss of healthcare, as well as stress and uncertainty surrounding the risks of COVID, proving detrimental to their mental health.

By the time I was induced, the regulations were that the baby’s father was allowed to visit for two hours a day – which may sound like a lot, but when you’re having a care for a new baby, completely on your own for the other twenty-two hours, is nothing. And, although the hospital staff were brilliant, they were also excruciatingly overworked and underpaid, which meant that you very much were on your own.

You go through your pregnancy, watching yourself slowly morph into Jabba the Hutt, then after thirteen hours of agony, you suddenly find yourself abandoned, in a strange and uncomfortable environment, in a lot of pain and sleep deprived, trying to work out how to put a onesie on a baby.

Then, after spending a week extra in hospital due to an infection, we finally got our daughter home. We carried her in as one would carry a nuclear bomb, gently set her car seat down in front the couch, and then sat and stared at her - wondering what on earth we were supposed to do now.

Because that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? As new parents, you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing! None! You spend half your time feeding and changing, and the other hurriedly googling what that weird gurgling noise means.

But, in “normal” times, parents would have support systems – parent and baby groups, day care and nursery and such. Fellow Mum Eleanor from Taunton had a similar experience: “It prevented me meeting up with other expectant mums… The lack of opportunity to make friends with other mothers left me feeling isolated post-partum.”

For all the truly wonderful things about discovering parenthood, I think I will always feel that the pandemic robbed us, and so many others, of that collective wisdom and reassurance that community groups offer.

Becoming a Body-Positive Role Model for Your Daughter

One of the biggest challenges for me in motherhood, and indeed one I’m still battling with, is the desire to raise my daughter to have body confidence.

In a world of Barbie Dolls, Kardashians, Instagram filters and photoshop, how on earth am I supposed to shield my daughter from the constant pressure to be “perfect”? The short answer is of course, you can’t. You have to find a way to teach her how to navigate the marketplace of low self-esteem, to refuse to be sold the deluge of beauty products promising to “fix” her.

We all know the best way to teach a child is to lead by example. But how are you supposed to do this, when you yourself are constantly plagued by doubts and niggling insecurities? You don’t realise how many self-depreciating jokes you make until suddenly you’re acutely aware of the language you’re using in front of your daughter.

And I know – it’s hard. Bearing a child irrevocably changes even the trimmest of figures – no matter how many waist trainers or hold-it-in pants you buy. Newer mothers are particularly prone to negative body image, and report feeling concerned about their new appearance, which they might feel no longer meets society’s (impossible) expectations.

So, what do you end up doing? You do what any upstanding citizen who can’t afford therapy does – you use humour to cope. If you make a joke about your muffin top first, that means someone else can’t make fun of you for it – right?

However, unbeknownst to you, your little girl is taking in everything that you say and internalising it, believing that this is a normal way to think and speak about oneself.

This is backed up by scientific research: a study from the California State University found that the frequency of “fat talk” by mothers has a direct impact on daughters’ negative body image and motivation to lose weight.

Suddenly those quips about getting into your skinny jeans don’t seem quite as funny when you realise you’re teaching your daughter to put herself down and criticise her appearance.

The crux of it is that in order to raise your daughter to be the resilient, body-positive queen that she has the potential to be, you have to… work on yourself first. Look, I know. It’s not what you want to hear. It’s my least favourite W-word.

But the good news is you don’t actually have to adore every inch of yourself – because no one does! Everyone has insecurities, the trick is just to view them in context. Horrendous stretch marks post-pregnancy? A C-section pouch that would put a kangaroo to shame? All they are is proof that you carried and birthed a child. Your body allowed you to have children- it’s amazing!

By criticising yourself, even as a joke, it perpetuates the negative beliefs you have about yourself. It sounds simple, but it’s incredible how much kinder your world becomes when you stop insulting yourself on a daily basis – and your children will see this kind world you build for yourself, and build one for themselves.

Sophia, 30, from Taunton says:

“I want my baby to feel good about herself however she looks. I think one of the best ways to help her achieve this is to be comfortable and open about my own body with her. Embrace the flaws, show her that everyone is different and beautiful in their own ways not just in the unachievable media depiction of female.”

With any luck, one day I’ll have the same authentic confidence Sophia has in her own body image (look, I’m working on it alright?) but until then, for the women who, like me, are plagued by self-doubt – we’ll just have to find the confidence we all want our daughters to develop.

Because the cycle of teaching our daughters to have low self-esteem ends with us.

Nine (and-a-half) Unspoken Truths About Motherhood

I expected many things when I became a mother: all-nighters that would put my student days to shame, nappy explosions of biblical proportions, and wearing a new perfume of eau de baby sick. But these are some of the things that no one had the decency to warn me about, and truly took me by surprise…

You won’t feel an immediate overwhelming attachment to your child. Objectively, you know this tiny creature is yours to treasure – the product of your body and soul. But when you haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours, you just want to pass it to someone – anyone – else, yelling “what does it want???”
When you have a newborn, you will think it is the most beautiful, transcendent being in all the world. Six months later you will lovingly look back on old photos, and you’ll see a bollock in a onesie. It’s just a fact.
You’ll let them have a ‘telly day’ – even if you are absolutely, adamantly against it. It may take two days, or two years – but it’s coming, and you’ll feel terrifically guilty and abhorrently relieved.
Your standards will slip – in everything. For months my house cleaning routine included (and was limited to) trying to do a bit of dusting with the last bit of a makeup wipe I’d finished using at 11 o’clock at night.

4.5. This includes personal hygiene. Find a brand of dry shampoo that works for you – you’ll need it.
The only time you’ll see your old friends will be when you bump into them looking like something the cat hacked up. They’ll look slim and glamorous, and you’ll have spots and crusted yogurt on your leggings from when you served as a toddler’s napkin. Ah well.
You’ll become that parent you always tried to avoid in the past. “Here- look at these 30 identical photos of my child eating toast. Aren’t they cute??”
The expensive, educational, organic toys will not be used. Not for lack of trying on your part, but eventually you’ll find that the silicone tongs you use for cooking keeps them entertained for longer. Spoiler alert: they’ll never be used for cooking again, and in 6 months’ time you’ll find them inexplicably in the back of your car.
The strict parents you remember from your own childhood? Long gone. Keep a close eye on those grandparents, because they’ll be trying to sneak chocolate and cake into your baby’s mouth at every available opportunity.
And finally, you’ll realise that there’s no way of winning the Best Child in the World competition that every mother holds. Oh, little Katie can play the recorder already? Well, mine, er… well she’s throwing that gravel with terrific accuracy. You know what, Karen? They’re just children – and every scribble they do is really, quite shit. But they’ll be going on our fridges anyway because we love them, and that’s all that matters.

Recreating Yourself as a Mother

Having a child is a time of pure creation – bringing a new person into the world that has the potential to grow up and do wonderful things. But becoming a mother is also a chance to recreate yourself, too.

You’re not only giving birth to your child, but to a new you.

Now it’s not all sunshine and roses, admittedly: you’ve got a new body that won’t do what you want it to do and may never look the same again – but this forces you to rethink your sense of self, even just through your style (Long floaty tops are now your friend, though I still have my tight tops and skirts optimistically packed away).

Motherhood suddenly opens up this new perception of yourself, as you start to see yourself through your child’s eyes. You start to question: how do I want them to see me? What kind of mother do I want to be?

Having a child gives you this sudden desire for self-improvement, even just in becoming a better person for them to look up to. It forces you to strive for growth – in intangible things, such as working on your self-esteem to set a better example for them, or more practical endeavours such as saving for a house with a garden (they’ll never set foot in it, but it’s the thought that counts).

Being a new mother inevitably means living a less-than-perfect life. Waking every three hours, dealing with nappy explosions, and trying not to wet yourself every time you sneeze (or laugh… or cough…).

But I think if you can get through that, you can get through anything. It’s those moments of sheer desperation at four o’clock in the morning rocking a miniature banshee that you really dig deep and find yourself; then three months later, when you start to come out the other side of that purgatory, you’ll suddenly think to yourself: “You know what? I did it.”

Running the gauntlet of new motherhood engenders this inner belief in yourself: if you can handle that, you can handle anything.

Useful Skills to Learn as a Parent

You’ve painted the nursery, stocked the wardrobe full of adorable onesies, and spent endless hours researching which pram to buy. But what else can you do while you’re waiting for your little bundle of cuteness to arrive? It might be worth learning a few skills to help you handle the whole Mum thing.

Basic cooking skills – this goes without saying. But also how to chop up vegetables really, really small. Like, really small. So small they’re invisible to the naked (toddler) eye. Extra tip: cheesy scrambled eggs can hide almost all of your 5-a-day – or blend together roasted onions, butternut squash and tomatoes for a sneakily healthy pasta sauce. You’re welcome.

Sewing. I’m not talking about embroidering the scriptures onto your child’s blanket, just how to hem a pair of trousers, sew a label on, or mend a tear. It might not be useful immediately, but in a few years, you’ll be thankful you took the time to learn when you’re hurriedly sewing on name tags the night before your child goes off to school.

Reading aloud. Before starting to read to my child, I didn’t really think of this as a skill. Surely anyone can read aloud? Oh, how wrong I was. If you can, practice before your baby is born (this also counts as speaking to your bump, bonus!) I’m now a pro speech-giver, and can recite The Tiger Came to Tea by heart (only one of these skills has gone on my LinkedIn, however).

Learn to sing some soothing songs from memory – not necessarily nursery rhymes, but just ones you can fall back on at 3am when your child has entered banshee-mode. My daughter loved My Jolly Sailor Bold from Pirates of the Caribbean. Go figure.

How to have a shower in under 3 minutes. Again, I think this goes without saying.

Organising your time effectively. Now, I have the time-management skills of a turnip, so I can fully sympathise this is a hard one. For me the biggest helper was making myself prepare dinner whilst my toddler was napping – I’d just chop everything I needed then keep it in the fridge until dinner time. It might only save ten minutes – but ten minutes with a gremlin pulling at your leg is an eternity.

Learning to do things one handed. Stirring stew, walking the dog, and even going to the loo. You’ll soon have to do all of these things whilst carrying a baby or holding a toddler’s hand – what fun.

Burp cloths. Now, I know what you’re thinking – that’s not a skill! And that’s true. The skill is remembering the damn things when you go out. The amount of cardigans I’ve sacrificed to snot or sick are innumerable. Just, put one in your handbag - in fact, put three in there. I’m begging you.