Happy New Year, and a Lightbulb

Greetings, Gentle Readers, and Happy 2013!  Having finally pried the lampshade off my head, I'm fully recovered from my Holiday debaucheries and ready to continue my adventures in playing with string.

I decided to take the Frog by the flippers and revisit the actual fairy tale Frog Prince, hoping for further inspiration on my cardigan project. I dusted off my Grimm's Annotated, pleased to go back and see an old friend.  Interestingly, I had completely forgotten that in the traditional telling, the princess is totally disgusted by the frog, from beginning to end.  She only honors her promise to let him into the castle after her father makes her do it.  Not only does she NOT kiss the frog; he only changes into a prince after she smashes him against a wall.  I kinda like her style.

I'm taking this reminder as a sign that I need to take a firm hand with the sweater.  No more mollycoddling.  It's time to be the boss of this frog.

To that end, I knit new side panels.  They went really fast, being fairly narrow.  And as I was struggling to pin out my curling pieces of curved-edge stockinette, I experienced an epiphany:

It's easier to make them lie flat if you pin them to the board WRONG SIDE UP.

Yeah.  I know.  I'm appalled to realize that I've been making myself miserable trying to block flat pieces of curling stockinette right-side-up for my entire knitting career.  No idea why.  There is no reason whatsoever to keep them pretty-side-front, and every cause to do the opposite.  I can't believe I never thought of it before.  I hope you are smarter than me, and have been doing it the easy way all along.  But in case you are not, don't feel bad:  It's now a sure thing that we are going to end 2013 smarter than we started it. 

Just one more service I provide.

Feeling Kilty

I'm starting to think about all things Festive, which always puts me in mind of Highland Dress.  Hogmanay is coming, after all, and I wouldn't want you to be caught unprepared.

So in honor of the spirit of my ancestors, I give you

"Kilt By Association"  CLICK HERE for the pattern.

These are big fun to knit, and the pattern includes lots of information on how to customize their fit.
 

Kilts and Kilt Hose are the exclusive domain of Gentlemen, in Scotland.  Ladies officially wear Kilt Skirts, which contain about half as much fabric, and fasten on the opposite side.  Their legs are covered by tights or stockings, rather than hose.  In Scotland.  But since I'm actually American, I break the rules.  My ancestors are dead, and even if they weren't, it would be a mighty long trip for them to come here just to slap my wrists for going in drag. 

The fact is, Kilt Hose are Dead Sexy, and cozy warm, to boot.  No wee lassie should be denied the luxury.  So I hereby give you ladies permission to make and wear your very own kilt hose, if you want to, and tradition be damned.  I'll take the rap for it when I meet up with my forefathers, at that great distillery in the sky (or wherever else we all end up).

Oh, and Bailey would like me to assure you; This Pattern is Scottish Terrier Approved.

Reverse Engineering a Frog

You remember this one:  Once Upon a Time, I made a tube of knitting, and cut it into panels, then appliqued them onto a boiled wool jacket.  I've been trying ever since to figure out how to make a knittable sweater pattern for you from it.
 

You might also remember that I completely finished said knitted sweater once, only to decide that it was a toad, and banish it to time out.  For around two years.

God love you, Gentle Readers; knitters have long memories.  I get reminded at least once a week that I promised to make this happen, and that I have not yet done so.  I'm so happy that you won't let me get away with giving up the Battle of the Frog.  I know that once I figure this one out, you'll be really proud of me.  And you have been SO patient.  I went back into the pond, so to speak, to think like a knitter, and try sorting it out a different way.

I decided to work out the best shape for every piece of the sweater, and then choose how to knit each piece most easily.  As for the original, the stranded colorwork part should be worked as a circular tube:

Then we should cut the three panels apart, and shape the neckline curve by cutting it:

Next, we can join the shoulder seams, then pick up and knit the collar around the neckline curve.  The collar is best worked circularly, too:

The collar will have a solid self-facing, (which I didn't draw) for stability, and we can shape the whole thing a little bit by changing needle sizes a few times to get a more funnel-, less cylindrical-shape .  After cutting the collar steek, we'd fold the facing inside and stitch it down. 

Other than the turn-back cuffs (which I'll get to), the rest of the piece is all solid black, which is one of the things I love about it - the stranded parts sort of stand alone, framed by their solid background.  Another thing I love about the original is its sexy, feminine shaping, both at the waist and gathered sleeve heads.  The best way to get those pieces right is to work them flat, like this:

But of course, the cuffs are stranded, so they should be worked together in a tube, then cut apart:

Then sleeves with gathered tops can be worked flat, up from those:

The whole thing would then be sewn together, with appliqued ribbons and whatever other gee-gaws I can't resist slapping on (Nothing in Moderation; except Moderation).

The only question left is:  Am I the only one crazy enough to make a sweater this way?  I imagine those of you who have been through my "Sexy, Shapely Steeks" class will see how it could work.  That's the class where we deconstruct different knitted shapes to see where steeks could be added to make easier, more fun, and sexier knitting.  But I'm worried the rest of the world might come after me with torches and pitchforks, once they read the pattern. 

What do the knitters think?  Is this mixture of construction techniques intimidating, or something you'd happily attempt? I could just simplify the whole thing by making a drop-shoulder, stranded-all-the-way-around cardigan. But that would be a completely different sweater than the original.  I'd never want to underestimate the power of knitters to make what they want to make.  But I don't want to cause anybody's hair to fall out, either.

Weigh in, won't you, O Friends With Opinions?