Invisible Mending: A Tribute to Epineri Ciri

Out of my studio in Coburg on Wurundjeri Country, I offer machine embroidery services where people are invited to bring in their damaged or unloved clothes to be visibly mended with thread.

These sessions are usually one-on-one. I spend time getting to know each person—listening to what they tell me, and also paying attention to what their clothes reveal. Are they someone who irons everything? Do they live with a cat, a dog, or both? Are they a painter, a gardener? Clothes have a way of telling stories, even when we don’t mean them to.

We wear clothes close to our bodies, yet something so intimate is often read at a glance. Sometimes we dress for comfort or protection from the elements. Other times we choose pieces that help us feel confident or seen. We know why we choose what we wear—but what about the clothes we stop wearing? Maybe we’ve outgrown them. Maybe they belonged to a passing trend. Or maybe they’re worn thin, stained, faded, or stretched in strange places.

But sometimes, it’s not the physical wear that keeps us from wearing something again.  That realisation came during an appointment with Ellen, a returning visitor to the studio. On her second visit, I had just released a new flash series called The Lonely Traveller, a tribute to my partner Youssef who has moved to the UAE. One design featured a cockroach lying on its back, inspired by Kafka’s Metamorphosis. I used to joke with Youssef: “I’m coming over, you better not be a cockroach.”

Ellen connected to the piece differently. The cockroach—or “kokoroji,” as her late fiancé used to say—was a term of endearment between them.

Ellen met her late fiancé, Epineri Ciri, while holidaying in Fiji. Their connection grew quickly despite the distance between them and soon Ellen was travelling between Naarm and Fiji to spend time with Epi and his family. Sadly, their plans for the future were unexpectedly cut short when Epi died at the age of 29 from injuries sustained in a car accident last September.

That exchange with Ellen stayed with me. Sometimes a piece of clothing still fits, is perfectly wearable—but it holds a memory that’s too hard to wear on our bodies.

That’s where this project began.

It’s an invitation for people to share garments tied to grief—clothes that hold painful memories, especially of those we’ve lost. Through embroidery, we work with those garments gently, thoughtfully.

Ellen is the first person I’m working with on this project.
If you’re interested in being part of it, please reach out: safa@soofflash.com