The Martlet

Somewhere in today’s mix of environmental consciousness and economic pressures, some people are rethinking their wardrobes. Our over-consumption of cheap made-in-China designer knockoffs is becoming less practical — and may even be slipping out of style.

Last Christmas, a reprinted wartime book for thrifty housewives called Make Do and Mend leapt onto Amazon’s bestsellers list for craft books in fashion-forward Britain. Its 60-year-old advice on how to turn a tablecloths into a blouse, or men’s pajamas into a dress, is back on trend, especially among a group of progressive young designers who transform their Value Village finds into original eco-chic fashion. The difference is that today’s war is on waste, and rationing is voluntary.

A fashion statement

In a sunny nook of her apartment, Caroline Hobbes, 25, has several sewing machines. Material overflows from her bedroom closet towards a fabric cutting mat stationed on the hardwood floor below an adjustable mannequin. This is her home business, Shiznit Threads eco-fashion.

For much of her work, Hobbes uses reclaimed material to make one-of-a-kind clothing and accessories. She sells her wares at summer markets, music festivals, local boutiques and over the Internet.

For Hobbes, using recycled material just makes sense because so much is wasted; it also keeps the price down. Among her best selling items are $45 recycled hoodies, bought from thrift stores and refreshed with one of her signature applique landscape patches sewn across the chest.

“I always make sure people know they aren’t new,” Hobbes said. “There’s enough cheap new clothes out there in the malls that people are usually psyched for something different, more environmentally friendly.”

She says that people who buy her creations at market are usually between 20 and 30 years-old and looking for something unique.

“It’s totally a fashion statement, part of a larger ‘green’ lifestyle,” she said. “I’ll tell somebody a skirt was made out of a pillowcase, and they just think that’s rad.”

Another bonus is that the clothes are locally made on a small scale and people get to see the face of the person who sewed it, something you don’t get in a mall.

“Every piece has a bit of a story to it,” she said.

Hobbes’ started the fashion line when she was a teenager and started chopping up old pants and making skirts for herself and her friends. She shows me one of her early creations: a floor-length skirt of brown and blue corduroy patchwork with a simple drawstring waist.

A similar aesthetic has carried through to her clothing line, which she launched in 2003.

“I work with a lot of corduroy for its durability,” she said. “Even though my stuff is used, it’s made to last.”

Quality: that’s the difference between a clothing line and casual crafting. Not everybody knows how to finish an edge or sew through several layers of thick fabric. Hobbes’ patch designs are so imaginative that she’s sold them in frames at art shows. Still, some of her styles are incredibly simple. Many of the skirts she sells are simple loose fitting designs with drawstrings.

To make or to buy

On an impulse before heading to a bar, one of my more crafty university friends, Karri Robinson, took scissors to a shirt I hadn’t worn in years. She chopped off its sleeves and the top half of the back, making a halter-top for me to wear out that night. It took her about three minutes to make; she had practice.

The first time I went to Robinson’s house, she showed me a swan dress she had made to look like Björk for a costume party. Her crammed closet holds many of her own creations, including some similar halters, purses she made from skirts and altered dresses from thrift store finds. While she has no thoughts of being a designer, she’s certainly talented.

Those interested in modifying their duds need look no further than the Internet for design ideas. Do it youself (DIY) sites like Craftster.org feature a vast database of user-submitted patterns and tutorials for all skill levels. Robinson also finds inspiration from Etsy.com, a popular online marketplace for handmade goods. She also attends craft shows where she looks for ideas to mimic at home.

But even through she can sew, there are some things she would rather buy.

“There is value in supporting artists, especially when they make something unique,” said Robinson, who works part-time at Hemp and Co., a boutique that sells clothes made from eco-friendly fibers, including some pieces from Hobbes’ line and other designers that work with reclaimed material.

One of the top selling reclaimed lines at Hemp and Co. is called Paper People, made by a designer out of Toronto.

“We can’t keep them on the racks,” said Robinson, noting that she’ll sometimes sell six dresses on a day the shipment arrives.

And they’re not cheap. Paper People dresses sell for $200, and there is a waitlist for people who want them.

Last winter, Robinson bought one of the designer’s $59 shrugs made from a patchwork of hand-dyed felted wool sweaters.

“You know a lot of work went into this, especially to find all the fabric,” she said. “I wouldn’t try to make this. You’d have to be working on a pretty large scale to make it worth your while.”

Large-scale recycling

The designer behind Paper People is Jennifer Fukushima, a 24-year-old graduate of Ryerson University’s fashion program. She works out of her basement studio in West Annex, Toronto making clothes that are distributed in boutiques from B.C. to Quebec.

Fukushima develops patterns for two unique lines per year. In her recent fall/winter collection, 10 of her 12 designs used recycled wool-blend sweaters, dyed and sewn together in panels of contrasting textures. Her new spring/summer designs make use of lighter fabrics, including recycled silk and cotton but still keep some of her signature wool work.

She launched her clothing company in 2006, and in the past year it has created enough revenue that she can now work on it full-time.

When I reach her by phone one Sunday afternoon, Fukushima is in her studio sorting the fabric she buys by weight from wholesalers who clear out the excess donations from thrift stores.

“It’s pretty amazing how much material there is that nobody wants,” she said. “People buy way more than they need and that’s where it ends up.”

Using reclaimed material makes Fukushima’s designs original, but it also adds extra labour.

“I’ve got to cut around holes or stains and there is only so much usable material in a single sweater,” she said. “It definitely takes more thinking and creativity to figure out how to fit everything together. It would of course be easier to just get fabric from the store.”

But then she’d just be fueling the culture of waste.

“I feel good about what I do, making something new out of something used,” she said. “We can’t stop people from wasting, but we can recycle some of what they throw away.”