SuperForester Julius’s Objectified post yesterday got me thinking: we have this general desire to acquire the latest thing - even when we have perfectly serviceable goods already – but what about when the ‘new car smell’ has long since gone and the fraying around the edges has morphed into a gaping hole? Dutch design group Platform 21 (who incidentally are some of the guys behind the awesome breakfast machine!) are advocates of fixing rather than replacing, and have been spreading the word via their Repair Manifesto – it’s been kicking around for a while now, but it’s worth sharing:
I’m as susceptible as any to the ‘replacement drive’ (um, particularly in relation to knitwear. And books. And knitwear), but I’ve found that the times when I’m acquiring less are when I’m either making or fixing more. It seems self evident to put it like that, but when I’ve put the time and effort into creating or mending something (although my repair skills are primarily limited to a fine line in amateur glue-cobbling; fixing sneakers with superglue) I’m much more attached to it – it’s really “mine” – and I’m less likely to be tempted by the shiny new version gazing at me from the shop window.
Inspired by the Repair Manifesto, Amsterdam-based Heleen Klopper‘s “Wool Fillers” use the natural characteristics of wool – the scales tangle together - to create a DIY kit with which everyone can mend holes in their clothing by sticking felt into the holes with needles. As Heleen says, “where once there was a hole, there’s now a new piece of fabric”.
And less practical, but quite lovely, are Siba Sahabi‘s hand mended plastic bags. As she says, ”the point of my repairs is not to make a two day bag from a one day bag. My question is if there is still a space for these handicapped objects and their stories”.
Is it just me, or are the repaired objects much more loveable and fun than the originals?
If it ain’t broke, don’t chuck it – and if you can repair it, do!
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