Anson, a Gen Z woman studying medical science, has used a second-hand sewing machine to stitch together Hong Kong's fading textile craft network. About three years ago she launched a textile craft culture page, "Chi Yau Workshop," documenting the local garment industry's history and craft preservation. Since 2024 she has been gathering information on alteration, sewing and knitting supply shops across Hong Kong into a map; roughly 20 to 30 percent of the entries came from public submissions, with the rest found through her own visits to districts.

Anson's textile journey began during the COVID-19 pandemic. Then a university student taking online classes at home, she dug out a second-hand sewing machine her mother had bought to pass the time, learned to thread it, and after sewing her first skirt plunged headlong into the field. She majored in medicine, and after graduating continued learning alterations and wedding dressmaking from a tailor, while also seeking craft advice from garment workers she had known for years. In her research she discovered to her surprise that most of the older women in her family knew sewing, alterations and knitting, yet rarely spoke of it.

What she regrets most is the wave of closures of traditional craft shops. The hardest skill, she says, is mending and reweaving, and a master to learn it from may no longer be found. In an old mall in Kwai Hing she once came across a garment workshop whose owner had decided to close; she bought the sewing machine and several tailor's shears—the ones he had used to cut thick fabric, larger than ordinary women's scissors. She says she doesn't want these tools to become museum exhibits, but hopes people can still touch them and imagine the daily lives of those who came before. In a Lunar New Year interview she also noted that garment workers were usually paid by the piece, and sewing three-digit numbers of items a day was not unusual; when rushing orders she has sewn for long stretches herself, experiencing that intense concentration and fatigue firsthand, which deepened her understanding of where these women's decades of skill came from.

In recent years she has gone into communities to hold sewing gatherings, inviting the public to bring old clothes and study repair methods together. One woman traveled from Ma On Shan with a dress for her to hand-sew and repair, chatting as they worked; she has also deliberately cut holes in a tablecloth for neighbors to mend, observing that everyone's technique differs—some like visible thread, some prefer subtlety, some sew from the inside, others from the outside. Her takeaway: mending clothes is like taking time to care for something used long-term, just as a tailor, feeling a worn pair of trousers, says, "They must have been worn for a long time to be this soft."

On inheritance, Anson believes what Hong Kong lacks is comprehensive craft documentation and a recognized assessment system. Citing Britain as an example, she notes that it systematically records existing and endangered crafts, even counting practitioners and learners, and some craft societies have clear grading standards—while Hong Kong has a culture of exams, this area remains blank. She is also researching the use of local plants for weaving and dyeing, including repeated testing of traditional indigo dyeing, toward the idea of "making rope from Hong Kong's plants."

Source: Daily Magazine · People | Stitching old clothes, human warmth and memory thread by thread: a Gen Z woman joins community sewing gatherings · Originally published 2026-09-10