Let’s Darn Some Socks!
by Katy on February 13, 2025 · 39 comments
Today is a special snowy day here in Portland, Oregon, which means there’s zero guilt when it comes to hunkering down at home and embracing all things cozy. Like darning socks!
Obviously I’ve been neglecting this chore . . . .
Many of these socks, especially the ones that my sister hand knit have seen the business end of a darning egg in the past. Like this one:
I just got these socks for Chaunkah, but apparently I’ve a special talent for the holey spirit.
There, that’s better!
One down, thirteen to go!
If you can sew over-under-over-under, then you too can darn a sock. It’s hard to get ahead financially when all your money is tied up in socks!
Katy Wolk-Stanley
“Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”
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{ 39 comments… read them below or add one }
I’m so jealous of all your hand knit socks. I haven’t got a single pair. I keep saying I’m going to learn how to make them, but it hasn’t happened.
They’re the best, I think I have four pairs.
Do you knit? Making socks is kind of addictive, because it’s not a huge time commitment, and you end up with pretty, cozy socks! I blew through making one sock in a week, then the other is 1/2 done because I got busy with other time-sensitive things. Hoping today and tomorrow will be slow due to snow and I can get the second one done!
I’m lucky to have knitter sister!
I love the visible mending movement. Last year, I darned some holes in a well loved cream sweater (moths) with brightly colored wool.
I went to a class at the library last year to learn visible mending. I love the idea of it. Nothing as to be perfect in visible mending. Instead, mended clothing looks interesting and unique.
YES! If you made a ton of those loom potholders as a kid, you’ve already learned how to darn. It’s just very basic over/under weaving, and it’s extremely satisfying to not have to get rid of socks. It’s a ridiculously satisfying project that will have you going, “Wait…do I need those cheater glasses from the Dollar Store already?!?!?!?” (Yeah, that’s how I learned my eyes were getting old, sigh. BUT, I saved my socks, so yay!)
Dollar store glasses are just as important as the darning egg!
I keep darning the spot on the canvas fence panel that Demon Puppy jumps up and grabs the cloth. If nothing else, it’s making a very sturdy spot for the tiny fiend to sink her teeth into.
“The Holey Spirit”: priceless!
I aim to please.
Hooray for mending! I don’t have many socks that are worth mending. They’re too flimsy and fast fashiony. I’m slowly acquiring a collection of “Darn tough socks” that have a lifetime warranty. I’m tired of wearing disposable socks! (Shakes fist!)
I shake my fist in solidarity with you!
Katy,
Do you have a favorite brand of socks that you purchase that are warm, cozy, colorful and hold up well?
I don’t. My socks are all random, many of which are hand me ups from my kids.
@Katy lucky you. Both my kids have larger feet than I do so my hand me ups ended with junior high PE shoes. Down to my last pair sad to say. It is hard to find my size new much less gently used.
Ha! I stuff our “holy” socks, along with darning egg and other supplies, into a small handled shopping bag. I then tote it along on road trips. While DH drives, I darn his socks. We just came home from a trip, so I’m all caught up!
I feel like this would make me car sick.
You’d think so, but so far, so good. We take long trips and I don’t start off with this project, I’m usually several hours in before I open the bag. Maybe acclimation helps?
I darn my winter wool socks. I sew buttons back on. I fix small tears in clothes and bed sheets. I shorten my pants.
I’m not very good at it but it’s still satisfying.
It doesn’t have to be perfect.
Oh, does that trigger a memory: I got into extreme trouble as a kid, maybe about 8 or 9 y.o., when I rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a darning egg, and asked my grandma what this wooden thing was.
Grandma: “A darning egg.”
Me: “Hmmm. Did it come from a damning hen?”
That provoked a reaction but not the laughter I anticipated. Because I used a bad word, my backside got whacked several times. Grandma was a great believer in spanking. Ironically, I’d learned the word “damn” — and several other cuss words –from my mother/her daughter at a very early age! Yet, when Mom came home, Grandma told her and I got into even more trouble.
My punishment didn’t keep me from telling that joke; my friends thought it was hysterically funny.
I’ve often wondered whatever became of the darning egg. I think my dad had made it for his high school shop class.
Lisa, that’s so dang funny and clever I would have given you a high five! My childhood neighbor still tells the story about when my mom tried to give me a spanking but was too overcome with laughter at whatever I was saying back to her that she gave up.
Damn!
Have always loathed sewing, but was on board with the redemptive qualities of darning. As a 16 year old, (1966) I commuted an hour and a half ( each way)daily by bus and train, and used the time to mend my father’s expensive wool socks. I adored him, it was my way of cherishing his tired feet as he worked long days on building sites.I prided myself on smooth darns!
That is so sweet!
Like Coral, sewing never appealed to me. My mother and grandmother were both had excellent sewing skills (my grandmother even tatted, in addition to crocheting) but it was never my cup of tea. I do, however, know how to sewing buttons on and mend tears. For this I am grateful as I’m sure it has saved me money over the years. I may try darning.
So how does the darning egg fit into the process? I don’t understand how it’s used.
It goes inside the sock to give it structure during the darning process.
Katy, “the holey spirit.” You’ve outdone yourself!
I’ve tried to darn my socks, but the holes are always in the toes. The ‘mend’ makes the area too thick and uncomfortable.
My husband is really hard on socks and gets holes there, too. I unraveled an old sock and use the yarn to “sew” the hole together. If possible, I anchor my stitches to the toe seam for added strength. In the early days of our marriage, I tried to match the sock color. Now I mend with the thread from the original white donor sock. If it’s visible, I just remind DH that it’s a sign of how much I love him.
Dicey, thanks for the tips.
I recently was given a rather large pair of hand knit wool socks from my friend who gives me things for the thrift store and homeless shelter. They are lovely thick socks but both had worn holes in the heels, which she noticed and said ‘oh, I’ll just throw those out’.
NOOOOOO!!!! I cried.
I don’t have a darning egg but I do have a no-longer-working floodlight, which was a perfectly acceptable replacement. I dug out some not-quite matching wool, a darning needle, and told myself not to stop until both socks were done. Not a perfect job, but my #1 daughter was thrilled when I gave them to her for her cold feet at night in bed. There, one more pair of socks saved, and they will keep her warm for years..
In “Sister of the Bride” by Beverly Cleary, the photographer at the wedding gives his used flash bulbs to women at the wedding, telling them that they will make good darning eggs. (That’s my dated cultural reference for the week).
I use my stainless steel ladle as a darning egg.
If you’re feeling the need to be fancy, try sashiko, the Japanese art of mending fabric. BTW I have not been feeling the need to be fancy.
I loved that book, Heidi!!
Yes, I did, too! I re-read “Fifteen” last year, and while it had a great deal about how a girl must have a boy in her life, it also pointed out that the girl should be true to herself and not sell herself short, (similar themes in “Jean and Johnny” and “Sister of the Bride”; I don’t remember “The Luckiest Girl” very well).