Isabelle Cabrita worked as a designer and interior architect for over three decades. In 2017, after experiencing burnout, she reconnected with her passion for sewing and embroidery — a legacy from her mother. Thread by thread, she began to heal, exploring a new creative playground: mending clothes.
Blending artistic expression with social commitment, Isabelle recreates beauty — in stark contrast to the world of fast fashion.
So when this textile repair explorer, whose father is of Portuguese descent, crossed paths with Christelle Rasteiro, the founder of Saudade, the chemistry was instant… With second-life fabrics and vintage threads as their shared medium of expression!
Let’s start with something concrete: what do you repair, and how?
I repair clothes that have snags, tears, signs of wear, or stubborn stains.
I mend what’s damaged — and because it’s damaged. I’m not doing decoration. I also do darning, meaning I reweave fabric where it has completely worn away. What matters to me is respecting the original material, so I always work with the same type of fabric as the one I’m repairing. And I add beauty — like lichen gently covering a rock worn down by erosion!
Where does the art of “visible mending” come from?
While the term visible mending is a recent, Anglo-Saxon expression, the roots of this art are found in Japan. Boro (ぼろ — meaning “rag” or “scrap”) is a rural textile repair technique that uses layered pieces of fabric stitched together. Over time, these patched fabrics become true works of textile art.
There’s also Sashiko (刺し子 — “little stabs”), a geometric embroidery technique that reinforces fabric while also decorating it. I draw inspiration from it and reinterpret it in my own way.
Like kintsugi in ceramics, visible mending elevates imperfection.
You don’t use a sewing machine — is that a conscious part of your approach?
Yes, I only use needles, thread, and vintage fabrics whenever possible. Almost nothing new, unless I need a very specific thread or color.
Working without a sewing machine means taking the time to do things slowly, and staying in direct contact with the material. It allows me to experiment freely, anywhere, without cost or the need for electricity — so it’s perfectly nomadic.
And besides, sewing machines are noisy — it’s not really ideal if you want to listen to music at the same time :)
Why does repairing give something value?
The idea behind visible mending is to give new life to damaged garments or textile objects — while adding a little extra soul. To repair, transform, elevate, but also to personalize and make something unique, going against today’s culture of standardization.
There’s a powerful symbolism in repair: it’s a gesture that cannot bring the piece back to its original state. Instead, the garment carries the trace of a positive act — infused with aesthetic poetry and ecological ethics.
By repairing, we go beyond monetary or purely functional value: we care for memories, for emotional connections. I often say I repair with the hummingbird’s needle. I don’t claim to be exemplary — I simply try to help show the way.
Is reviving traditions important?
Ready-to-wear fashion (60s and 70s), followed by the rise of fast fashion, broke the chain of passing down repair-related know-how. Getting a new garment became easier — and cheaper — than mending one. As a result, our society shifted toward overconsumption, declining quality, and forgot a key concept: taking time to make things — which is what makes them more beautiful, and more unique.
I’m convinced that craftsmanship is power. Supporting it is, in a way, reclaiming that power. And it’s also contributing to a future that is desirable — and sustainable.
So for you, is repairing a radical act? Would you say you’re a radical person?
I’m a calm, discreet radical. I don’t make a show of my choices. But I do have strong beliefs, and I love sharing my convictions and skills with anyone who’s interested — especially through my workshops at @good_gang_paris.
How did the collaboration with Saudade begin?
I met Christelle Rasteiro, the founder of Saudade, during a program that brought together people working on impact-driven projects. We quickly realized how much we had in common — not only in how we each approach our work, but also in our shared Portuguese roots.
When she showed me the beautiful vintage rugs she finds across Portugal, I was deeply moved by the stories they carry within them. She then invited me to repair the pieces that showed signs of wear. It was a new challenge for me — I had never worked with that kind of material before.
These vintage rugs are already made from repaired materials — it’s like a “meta-repair”!
Yes, it’s an incredible mise en abyme! These rugs were originally made from clothes or bedsheets that had already lived a full life. So I’m repairing something that was already reused — and probably already repaired. It’s like traveling through time, as I recreate both the materials and the gestures that gave birth to these rugs. For example, I remade lirettes using old sheets to fill in the gaps.
Another project that’s close to your heart?
It’s a long-term project I started in 2022. I invite inspiring individuals to entrust me with the repair of a garment that holds personal meaning for them.
For example, I once crossed paths with Cyril Dion on a train platform. I approached him to say how much I admired his work and asked if he’d like to be part of the project. He accepted right away and asked me to repair a pair of jeans he was very attached to.
I also mended a jacket for India Mahdavi, whose sleeve had been eaten by a moth. She had fallen in love with the Boro spirit in some of my samples. “It’s a moth-ological repair!” she told me.
Are there any artists who inspire your creations?
A textile repair artist: the English maker Celia Pym, the high priestess of Visible Mending — and also Tom of Holland, who was my first guide into a kind of repair that was completely different from what I knew.
A writer: Erri De Luca. For his sharp sense of freedom, justice, and community, the radical nature of his convictions, and his writing — both profound and minimalist.
A painter: Rothko, for the sheer power of his work. Seeing his paintings up close is a mystical experience. You can see light emerging from them — you literally enter the painting!
If your rug could fly, where would it take you?
To Japan — a country I’ve never been to, but one that has always lived in my imagination. I’d stop off on all its islands, starting with Naoshima. Surrounded by art, nature, and silence, they say it offers an incredible introspective and meditative experience!
Rug lady or cushion queen?
Rug! Because I love walking barefoot at home.
The final “Saudadian” question: what object in your home best embodies the idea of Saudade?
A small wooden beaver from Canada, brought back by my father from a work trip when I was a child. It’s nothing extraordinary in itself, but it holds so many memories.
And also — my collection of stones. It’s very saudadesque! When friends or family travel abroad, I always ask them to bring one back for me.
Founder of the association Good Gang Paris, which promotes “transition through textile experimentation,” Isabelle offers workshops in visible mending — the art of visibly repairing and mending clothing.
