When the story of the current zeitgeist comes to be written, it might well be captured in a four-word slogan that defined the spirit of wartime Britain. Part admonition, part joyful declaration of intent, "Make Do and Mend" became the catchcry of a generation that kept calm and carried on through the darkest days of World War II.

The slogan was adopted by the British Ministry of Information as part of a general campaign of advice on everything from growing vegetables, disguising leftovers and making new clothes from old. Woollen jumpers were unpicked and reknitted, government-issue blankets upcycled into skirts and jackets and municipal flower beds given over to cabbages and carrots.

Today, as the world confronts fresh environmental and economic hardships, the lessons of that time are being heeded with a growing sense of urgency. Blogs offering tips on how to "Cook Like Grandma", books with titles such as Cold Meat and How to Disguise It and online discussions about keeping chooks, preserving vegetables, stocking a larder and baking bread point to a hankering for the past that goes beyond pure nostalgia. At a time when every food purchase invites ethical hand-wringing and every mass-produced piece of clothing comes with a less-than-flattering carbon count, the simple life starts to look rather more fetching.

Melbourne sociologist and writer Ruth Quibell lives with her husband and two young children in a rented house devoid of microwave, television or car. An elderly neighbour once told her: "You live like you're in 1940s England!"

Quibell says that while the family's lifestyle "might look like deprivation to outsiders", it arises from a carefully considered choice that is "primarily about a relationship to time".

"We earn less to have more time with our children, more choice over work and more time to be creative and independent. As a result, we largely only buy what we need and can afford. We work, sew, write, cook, walk ... our home is a hodge-podge of old and hand-me-down things."

As a sociologist interested in emerging trends, Quibell has tracked market research that suggests her family is not alone. She points to a rise in craft-related Google searches and sales of knitting needles, and the success of "magazines with a DIY or handmade emphasis, and electronic marketplaces for handmade objects like Etsy ...".

Other evidence of this back-to-basics boom is all around: retro-hip magazines such as Frankie and Peppermint offer cute stick-on labels with their homemade jam recipes, step-by-step embroidery guides for revamping old jumpers and fashion spreads featuring clothes made from disused film reels and recycled newspapers. Charities target hip young shoppers through specialist recycle boutiques in inner-city suburbs and farmers' markets draw ever-growing crowds of people prepared to pay more for locally grown food. Gleaners, meanwhile, opt to pay nothing at all by raiding supermarket bins or "feral fruit trees" whose branches overhang laneways and other public spaces. Anecdotally, there are tales of young Melburnians making their own dripping from reused fat or saving tomato seeds for next year's backyard crop.

A 2003 study by the Australia Institute's Clive Hamilton and Elizabeth Mail found that 23 per cent of Australians aged 30-59 had downshifted in the previous 10years. The study defined downshifters as "those people who make a voluntary, long-term lifestyle change that involves accepting significantly less income and consuming less".

Quibell says "downshifters" are among "a plethora of individuals" adopting a simpler life – "frugals, downshifters, those who practise backyard self-sufficiency, dumpster divers, home schoolers, crafters, artisans, bohemians, environmentalists. The list could go on."

As for the factors driving the trend, Quibell says they are many. "A self-sufficiency advocate and a frugal might have very different motivations — one to save air miles and pollution, the other simply to save money. What they share is making that conscious, individual choice to simplify how they consume," she says.

Designer Pene Durston has been making do for most of her life and now runs a business known for turning vintage tea towels into clothing, cushions and bunting. "In my family there were always hand-me-downs," she says. "Mum made all our clothes ... that's just what you did. We always did craft, we always spun yarn ... I grew up reading the handy hints sections of old CWA cookbooks."

A member of the Craft Victoria board and author of the popular blog Miss Pen Pen, Durston sells her 1940s-inspired designs from her Cottage Industry store in Fitzroy. CWA cookbooks complement the ethos of the place, along with copies of the 1943 Make Do and Mend guide to washing, preserving and recycling clothing.

She says the practical advice offered in such books appeals to a generation of people — primarily women in their 30s — who grew up domestically rudderless.

"In the '70s, women were told 'don't cook, don't make clothes for your family, go out to get a job'. There's a generation of women whose mothers went back to work ... It was the rise of consumerism, you had more money, so you bought clothes, you didn't make them ... [their children] missed out on learning to do things with their hands, getting their hands dirty."

Durston points to the irony of home renovation and cooking programs that are watched by people who lack the skills to attempt even the most basic domestic task.

"With cooking shows, everything is so over the top — who actually wants to cook molecular gastronomy? That's why we stock CWA cookbooks — you can't cook molecular gastronomy without actually knowing how to cook a pikelet. Let's start with the basics that are achievable with the minimum amount of equipment and ingredients ... Everyone I know makes some form of jam/sauce/preserve and friends hold the famous 'Chutney Club' every couple of months."

The communal nature of such endeavours serves as an antidote to what Durston sees as the isolation of modern life. "Living through the internet, for a lot of people it makes connections for them, but it's an isolating, non-tactile way of living and I do think that people reach a point where they have a need to get their hands dirty, to see a plant grow and then start eating something they've grown."

For Quibell, the return to basics satisfies "a hankering for the past, when life was slower, simpler, things lasted and were better made".

At the dawn of what may well come to be regarded as the new age of austerity, there is also, she says, "the sneaking suspicion that progress isn't all that it was cracked up to be".

feralfruitmelbourne.wordpress.com; misspenpen.blogspot.com; Cold Meat and How to Disguise It by Hunter Davies, Frances Lincoln, $13.95.

Tips from another time

Change your shoes as often as you can. When you get home, take off your shoes, put your feet in cold water. This helps reduce perspiration the next day.

Leave all the washing up, particularly china, to drain instead of drying it, so as to save wear on your tea towels.

Sew a piece of tape or odd piece of material or leather inside the bottom of each leg where the shoe rubs, to prevent it wearing thin.

Save all scraps of soap … and when you have, say, half a pint (240 millilitres), add half a pint of boiling water. Add, when cold, to washing water.

An old skirt will make one pair of knickers and a little play-skirt for a seven-year-old.

Woollen stockings with worn feet can have the legs opened down the back seams and can then be made up into an infant's jersey. Bind them with ribbon at neck, sleeves and hem.

Wear gloves only to keep warm and when you take them off put them in your pocket or bag. Thousands of gloves are lost every year.

If the sleeves of a pullover begin to wear on the underside and elbow, it is a good plan to change them over to the opposite arms. This levels up the area of wear (it is advisable to damp-press first to get rid of elbow-bag).

A man's tweed jacket could be cut down to your own measurements and you could wear it with a flannel skirt and a gay pullover.

The tops of a pair of wool stockings will make cosy underpants for a small boy.

From Make Do and Mend, first published 1943 and reprinted in 2007 by Sabrestorm Publishing