‘In France, we have no petrol, but we have ideas.” So goes a popular French saying born in the 1970s during the oil crisis. Said differently, France is a champion of quirky initiatives that can feel both admirable and somewhat pointless. The latest in a series of eco-friendly measures taken by the French government is the “repair bonus”. Instead of throwing into the bin a pair of ripped trousers, a bag with a broken strap or a moth-eaten polo neck, the state will pay for them to be mended at your local cobbler or retoucheur (sewing workshops). From October and for the next five years, we will be able to claim back between €6-€25 of the costs of mending our clothes and shoes with artisans who have joined the scheme.
The hope is to help create a virtuous circle, change habits for the planet’s sake (700,000 tonnes of clothing is thrown away in France every year), sustain local artisans and even create jobs in what we now need to call the “refashion” sector. Three years ago, a similar scheme encouraged my compatriots to fix their old toasters or rickety washing machines, rather than dispose of them out of frustration. Legislators even obliged companies to revise their obsolescence strategy by publishing a “repairability index” for each item produced. Consumers can now buy new home appliances knowing in advance how easy (or difficult) they are to repair.
I get it: every little helps in the race to reduce our carbon footprint, and the fashion industry is one of the most polluting. But what fresh hell! To think that we need the government to remind us of the most basic things in life, like repairing what’s broken rather than throwing it away in a childish fit? Have we gone amnesic as a nation? Can’t we remember our mothers/grandmothers/aunts knitting clothes, darning socks and trousers in front of the telly, sewing house linens on old Singer machines; and wearing our older siblings’ clothes? I can perfectly recall the satisfaction of seeing through the fabric of a worn-out pair of jeans: it meant I could finally buy a new pair, or better still, some funky vintage denim at the Paris flea markets. So cool and so écolo, as we used to say before “eco-friendly” was coined.
I’m not that ancient that I don’t also remember the beginning of fast food and fast fashion in the 1980s. I was a kid and I remember the heady feeling of a new way of life: cheap, fast and… fat-free. The euphoria didn’t last long: images of children producing polyester clothes by the millions in Asia, and acres of landfill piled high with textile detritus did not feel like progress. As for the fat-free industry, what a con.
So let’s focus on the task and go further, please! What we need is President Macron on the phone to the Musks and Zuckerbergs of this world, enrolling an army of influencers to spread the “old is cool” mantra on social networks. The fashionistas under 40 will love how a patched elbow will be perceived as virtue signalling, their favourite pastime. As for us over 40, it will be the most welcome return of common sense. And if I can give one last piece of advice to the French government, instead of subsidising mending and repairing, why don’t schools teach every child, girl and boy alike, please, how to sew, cut, knit and mend clothes? So the next generation remembers their grandfather and father darning socks in front of Call My Agent!.
