A tailor charges roughly $15 to $25 to hem one pair of pants and $5 to $10 to put a button back on a shirt. A 200-yard spool of all-purpose polyester thread costs about $3, a card of hand needles about the same, and both jobs happen at a kitchen table in under an hour. The difference between a repair that holds for years and one that fails inside a month comes down to a few specifics: thread weight, a shank under the button, and an iron used before the stitching rather than after.
Quick answer: For a button, use all-purpose polyester thread doubled on a size 7 or 8 sharp, run six passes through each pair of holes over a toothpick laid across the button, then pull the toothpick and wrap the slack into a thread shank with five or six turns. For a hem, try the pants on with the shoes you wear with them, pin the new fold, cut 1.5 inches below that line, press, and blind-stitch by catching a single yarn of the outer fabric every half inch.
Step 1: buy the right thread and the right needle
All-purpose polyester thread covers both repairs. It runs roughly 50 weight, it has a little give, and it outlasts cotton thread, which weakens with age and snaps under the shear load a button takes. Match the color to the fabric or go one shade darker, since a slightly dark thread reads as shadow while a slightly light one reads as a mistake. Keep one spool of heavier buttonhole thread for coat and waistband buttons.
Needles come on a card marked sharps, sized 1 down to 12, where larger numbers mean finer needles. Size 7 or 8 handles shirt buttons and most hems. Drop to size 5 for coat fabric and heavy thread. Anything finer than 10 bends before it gets through a denim seam.
The rest of the kit is short: small snips, a thimble that fits, tailor’s chalk, a dozen straight pins, and a 12-inch ruler. Add a box of toothpicks, which costs a dollar and does the most important job in the button repair.
Step 2: sew a flat button with a thread shank
Find the spot first. Button the garment, push a pin through the empty buttonhole into the placket underneath, then unbutton and mark where the pin sits. That mark is the center of the button, and guessing at it produces a shirt that pulls sideways.
Cut about 18 inches of thread, fold it in half, thread both ends through the needle, and knot the tail. Doubling halves your passes, and anything longer than 18 inches tangles on every pull. Anchor with two small stitches on the right side, directly under where the button will sit, so the button hides them.
Now the part most people skip. Set the button on the mark and lay a toothpick across its face, between the two pairs of holes. Stitch up through one hole and down through the next, over the toothpick, six passes through each pair on a four-hole button. Parallel bars or a cross both work; pick one and keep it consistent across the shirt.
Slide the toothpick out and lift the button away from the fabric, leaving a small column of slack thread. Bring the needle up between the button and the cloth and wrap that column tightly, five turns on a shirt and six on a coat. That is the shank, and on a shirt it should stand about an eighth of an inch tall, roughly the thickness of the buttonhole side. Push the needle to the wrong side, take three tiny backstitches through the anchor, and cut. Without a shank the button sits flat against the placket with nowhere for the opposing fabric to go, which is why it strains and pops off again.
Step 3: handle shank buttons and coat buttons
A shank button has no face holes. It carries a molded metal or plastic loop on the back, and the loop replaces the thread column. Orient it deliberately: the loop should lie in line with the buttonhole, horizontal for a horizontal hole, so the button rotates flat when fastened rather than fighting the opening. Anchor as before, pass through the loop 8 to 10 times with heavier thread, and finish on the wrong side. On coat-weight wool, stitch over a matchstick to add a quarter inch of thread shank underneath, because the loop alone will not clear a half-inch lapel.
Coat and waistband buttons also need backing, since the load that tore the first one off has not gone anywhere. Stitch a small flat stay button on the inside of the garment in the same passes, so the pull spreads across two buttons instead of four thread holes. A one-inch square of firm interfacing does a similar job on lighter fabric. If the cloth itself is torn, the button is no longer the repair; fix the fabric first.
Step 4: measure and mark the hem
Put the pants on with the shoes and belt you will wear with them, then stand on a hard floor. Carpet lifts the hem a half inch and lies about the whole measurement.
Decide how much break you want, meaning how much fabric stacks on the shoe. A full break puts a clear horizontal fold across the instep, a half break shows a slight dent, and no break leaves the hem brushing the top of the shoe. Fold the excess to the inside, pin it at the front of each leg, and check the mirror before anything gets cut. On dress trousers the back hem usually sits a quarter to a half inch lower than the front, so it still covers the heel while walking. On jeans and chinos, keep it level all the way around.
Now convert the pinned fold into a number. Measure from the floor up to the folded edge at the front, the back, and both sides. Chalk a line at that height around both legs, measuring the second leg from the floor rather than copying the first leg’s figure. Legs are rarely identical, and that shortcut is the most common way to end up with one short pant.
Step 5: press, cut, and blind-stitch the hem
Take the pants off and press the new fold before you cut anything, because a pressed crease behaves and a pinned one shifts. Set the iron by fiber. Synthetics take the low setting, around 275 degrees Fahrenheit. Wool takes medium with steam and a press cloth, around 300. Cotton and linen take high, near 400. Test on the strip you are about to cut off, which is a free swatch of the exact fabric. Press by lifting and setting the iron down rather than sliding it, since sliding stretches the fold. Treat any stain before heat touches it, because pressing sets most stains permanently. The stain removal guide by stain type covers what dissolves what.
Measure 1.5 inches below the fold line and cut straight across with sharp shears. Use a 1-inch allowance on a tapered leg, where the folded-up hem is wider than the leg it has to lie against. Finish the raw edge so it will not fray: turn it under a quarter inch and press, or run a zigzag or a pinking cut along it. Fold the hem up on the pressed crease, press again, and pin every 3 inches.
Sew with a single strand this time, so a snag breaks one thread instead of tearing the fabric. Fold the finished edge of the allowance back on itself about a quarter inch to expose the underside, then work a blind stitch: catch one or two yarns of the outer fabric, move a half inch along, and pass through the folded allowance. Keep every stitch slack. Pulled tight, they dimple the outside of the leg into puckers you cannot press out. Bury the finishing knot inside the fold.
Field note: Fusible hem tape has its place, and that place is a costume or a rental return. The adhesive stiffens the hem, shows as a shiny band under raking light on dark fabric, and releases in patches after a dozen hot washes, leaving a hem half up and half down. Fifteen minutes of blind stitching outlasts it by years.
The jobs that belong to a tailor
Some hems are not hand work. Cuffed trousers, lined dress pants, and anything cut on the bias need the length redistributed rather than folded, and a home job on those reads as a home job from across a room. Jeans with a chain-stitched original hem lose their fade line the moment you cut it off, so a tailor who can trim above that edge and reattach it is selling you something a needle cannot replicate.
Reshaping the garment belongs to a professional too. Taking in a waist, tapering a leg, and moving a seat seam mean opening the pants up and closing them again with the pockets still working.
Everything else is yours. A button and a hem sit at the low end of the effort curve and the high end of the payoff curve, alongside the other household repairs worth learning to do yourself. Two spools of thread and a card of needles fit in a drawer and outlast most of the clothes they save.