I'm a fashion designer – here's why repaired clothes are better than new ones

Before, fixing things was normal. A common part of early man's working life was the ongoing repair of the tools they used and the clothing they wore. Every successful human had the basic skills needed to keep their possessions in good working order. Throughout human history, we have valued our possessions and taken care to preserve them as long as possible.

I was born in 1972, and throughout my childhood I remember that all kinds of things, from shoes and sweaters to washing machines, radios and televisions, were regularly and systematically repaired. Television repair shops were found on most main streets; shoemakers and tailors were still commonplace. The everyday objects we owned and used were well made, from good quality materials; most were manufactured in such a way as to make them repairable. And because we valued the things, and they were a little more expensive, it was also cost effective to repair them.

But over the past 50 years, driven by corporate desire for us to buy more and more stuff, the quality and price of the things we bought and used every day began to decline. Things that once lasted decades now only lasted a few years or less. The design of things changed, making them harder to repair, and as fewer people repaired things, brands felt they could get away with not providing replacement parts.

Today, because the cost of most everyday things has so far fallen and repairs largely have to be carried out locally by skilled people earning British wages, it no longer makes economic sense to repair objects. It's easier and cheaper to just throw them in the trash and buy a new one.

As a consumer society, we have changed a lot in the 50 years since I was born. We have gone from relatively few high-quality items, made locally by highly skilled artisans, to large numbers of items, many of them of very poor quality, made where they are cheapest. We now own five times as many clothes as I did when I was a child, but we wear less than a third of them. We have so much stuff that we don't know what to do with it.

But has all this made us happier? I think for a lot of people the answer is no.

When we had fewer things, we cared more about them. We felt a greater connection with them. When they were made locally, many of us took pride in how they were made. And the well-made objects we used every day, made from natural materials like wool, leather, wood or stone, have improved over time. Over the course of their use, they developed character and patina and became more pleasant to look at, use or wear. When we repaired them, each new repair told the story of the objects' lives and demonstrated the care we gave them over time.

But we're finally realizing that this linear model of buy, wear, throw away, repeat isn't good for anyone. And we rediscover the joy of living with fewer things but of better quality, things to which we feel connected and which we want to maintain and repair.

My custom clothes have had a few repairs, but they're pretty well made, so overall they don't need much. I had a coat relined. Most of my shoes have been repaired at least once, in some cases multiple times, most often with a new sole, but sometimes a complete rebuild. I have shoes in my wardrobe that I wear regularly and that I bought over 30 years ago. Trickers, John Lobb, Churchs, Red Wing all go back to the factory for some TLC and come back better than new. I repair my own slippers, with a needle and thread, and sometimes a little tape. I waterproof my raincoats, either with traditional wax or with Nikwax in the washing machine. Each solution looks like a good deed.

Other countries are doing more to encourage this lifestyle. The French government is now giving people money to finance repairs. The EU has legislated that any new household appliance must be repairable and suppliers are required to provide all necessary replacement parts. In Sweden they removed VAT on repairs.

In Japan, repaired objects are highly coveted. Torn and worn clothing and textiles are reworked and repaired, using darning or patching techniques, making them what they call boro, which is very popular. They also practice Kintsugi, or golden carpentry, where broken pottery is visibly repaired using gold. As a culture, the Japanese celebrate repair rather than hide it, because it speaks of care and requires great skill to perform.

But signs of change are also starting to appear here in the UK. On Savile Row we have always offered alterations and repairs to our clothes for life. Because they are assembled by hand, our clothing can be easily taken apart by hand, and we employ specialists who do just that.

Repair shops and repair cafes are springing up across the country. It has become cool to remake and recycle. A whole new, highly connected economy of businesses focused on repair and recycling has emerged in the United Kingdom (and several other advanced industrialized countries). Darning is on the rise, both discreet and highly visible, with artistic darners achieving superb detail in their work.

I took on my favorite sweater several times, the elbows first, covered with suede pieces, then when new elbow holes appeared, the new holes were darned and the pieces were moved to cover both repairs. I picked up some thick cashmere socks, too pretty to throw away. It’s a very meditative thing to do.

Our new king proudly wears patched clothes and hand-me-downs, and many of us are discovering once again that we like to fix things, that fixing something just makes us feel good.

Patrick Grant is a fashion designer, businessman and judge on The Great British Sewing Bee

His new books, Less: Stop Buying So Much Junk: How Having Fewer, Better Things Can Make Us Happier And THE Savile Row Suiting: The Art of Hand Sewing on Savile Row are out now

This week I have been

Tree plantation Six years ago, I bought a house that had been abandoned for over two decades. The garden hadn't really received any love and attention for, I would guess, at least 50 years. Now that the house is almost back up and running, I have turned my attention to the garden. With the help of a few friends, including the head gardener at Harewood House, Westmorland Association president Damson and my neighbor who owns the excellent Lay of the Land garden center in Settle, I replanted half of the small orchard , with plums and plums, an apple, a fig, a walnut and a chestnut. I also dug more than enough: several new vegetable plots, now planted with four varieties of potatoes.

Bike in the sunshine! I was in London for a few days and managed to do a somewhat unbelievable quick cycle in shorts and a short sleeved top for the first time this year. Enjoyed a few wonderfully warm tours of Richmond Park, deer in force, leaves on most of the trees. It finally felt like spring had arrived.

While reading out loud, in a small room, all alone. I wrote a book called Less. I endured six hours a day for several days reading my own book in a quiet studio the size of a closet, with slightly uncomfortable headphones, so you could enjoy the delights of my voice telling you lots about clothing, crafts and consumption in your car, on the bus or wherever you listen to your audiobooks.