Part 3: The Making Matters (Or: Slow Craft as Radical Resistance)
Here’s something the mainstream sustainability conversation often misses: the act of making is itself a form of environmental activism.
Not in a precious, “I’m saving the planet one granny square at a time” way, but in a very real sense. When you make something by hand, you’re opting out of fast fashion. You’re refusing to participate in the cycle of buying cheap, poorly made items that fall apart in six months. You’re creating something that has actual value – not just monetary value, but emotional and practical value.
The Time Investment
A crocheted sweater takes time. Depending on complexity, you’re looking at 20-60+ hours. And that my friends is the entire point.
When you’ve spent forty hours on something, you’re not going to wear it twice and stuff it in the back of a drawer. You’re going to care for it. Mend it when it gets damaged. Store it properly. Actually wear it because you made the damn thing and it represents a significant chunk of your life.
This is the opposite of fast fashion’s disposability. A £5 t-shirt from a high street chain that falls apart after three washes is actually more expensive – environmentally and economically – than a handmade item that lasts years.
The Skill Development
Learning to crochet – really learning, beyond basic stitches – teaches you how textiles work. You understand garment construction. You can look at a shop-bought item and think “that seam is going to fail” or “this shaping is off.”
This knowledge makes you a more conscious consumer when you do buy things. You can assess quality. You know what should last versus what won’t. You’re harder to fool with greenwashing and marketing nonsense.
Plus, you can repair things. A hole in a jumper isn’t the end of its life – it’s just a problem to solve. This mindset shift is massively sustainable.
The Repair Culture Revolution
Visible mending is having a moment, and crochet is perfectly positioned to be part of it.
That jumper with a moth hole? Crochet patch. Those jeans with a blown-out knee? Crochet reinforcement. That bag with a tear? Crochet to the rescue.
We’re moving away from “broken means trash” toward “broken means opportunity.” This isn’t just about individual items – it’s about changing how we think about ownership and value. If something can be repaired, it should be repaired. And crochet gives you the skills to do exactly that.
The “Will I Actually Use This?” Question
Here’s an uncomfortable truth: the most unsustainable thing you can make is something you’ll never use.
That elaborate decorative doily that doesn’t fit your aesthetic? Environmentally questionable, even if it’s made from organic cotton. That blanket in colors you don’t like because the pattern was free? Waste of materials and time. That garment that doesn’t fit properly but you’re going to finish it anyway because you started it? Heading straight for the charity shop, where it might not even sell because handmade items are tricky for secondhand shoppers.
Before starting a project, genuinely ask:
- Will I actually use/wear this?
- Does it fit my life as it actually is, not as I imagine it to be?
- Am I making this because I want the finished object, or because I want something to crochet? (If it’s the latter, that’s fine! But choose a project you’ll actually love having.)
- And lets not forget that old chestnut – I spent hours making this for my friend, (without checking if they actually wanted or needed it), and now it’s just stuffed in the back of a drawer, ungrateful vs should never have assumed debate.
Making things mindfully means being honest about whether they’ll be loved and used. It’s okay to make for the pure joy of making – but then give it to someone who will actually appreciate the finished item.
Pattern Considerations
Digital patterns are more sustainable than printed ones, obviously, but there’s more to it:
Support designers who use standard measurements and common yarn weights. Patterns that demand a specific discontinued yarn or highly unusual specifications often result in people buying materials they’ll only use once.
One-skein wonders and scrap patterns. Designers creating patterns specifically for small amounts of yarn or leftovers are heroes. They’re designing for sustainability even if they’re not explicitly marketing it that way.
Timeless over trendy. That viral pattern that’s everywhere right now? It’ll be dated in six months. Classic construction and wearable designs have better longevity. (Though if trendy brings you joy, crack on – just be aware of the trade-off.)