The work tables were covered in a thick layer of old, threadbare, worn out clothes today, including shirts, socks, and hats, all full of variously sized holes. There were needles and thread in every color to match the clothes, and it all smelled faintly like mothballs. Eliot scowled at it all.

"So, today in 'stuff people in modern America usually don't bother with doing', we're going to learn how to darn clothes." He smirked. "That ain't being quaint. I mean, it is, but I'm not usin' it like instead of 'damn' -- anyway." He picked up an old pair of jeans. There was a patched hole on the knee, repairs on the hems, and even a halfway decent darning job over one of the back pockets. "Y'all can pass these around, get a look at the kind of work we're talking about here. I'm gonna guess at least a few of you already know the basics of patching and mending. If you do, consider this time to practice, or maybe try out a new technique. It ain't a bad skill to pick up at all. A lot of clothes these days are so cheap folks don't bother, and so flimsy they can't hold a repair even if they do, but if you've got quality fabric or limited funds, there's no reason patching and darning can't make your stuff last a dog's age."

He passed out a instruction sheet that covered patching, hem repair, and darning, again using jeans as a sample. "We ain't gone over usin' a sewing machine yet, so today we're gonna learn hand-repairs. Anything you fix up today, you can either toss back onto the pile, or take home to keep. I'd wash 'em before wearin' 'em, though, if you ain't actually made of rock."

So, Peridot, you could just kind of go wild.

"Anyway, I want you all to at least try out each of these repairs today. Personally, I go for patching, since it, you know, doesn't involve weaving a whole new tiny bit of fabric, but a well executed darn can be almost undetectable. So if you're lookin' to snazz it up while bein' thrifty, those are probably the way to go."