Cobbling

Today I'm finishing up one last pair of slippers.  This project will be released as a free pattern, to promote Fun and Fantastical Slippers to Knit. 

When I started this book, one of my first questions was "How can we make handknit slippers more durable?"  In the process, I've discovered a few tricks to help slippers last longer, some more involved than others.  This is one of my favorites, so I thought I'd share it today.  I give you: 

Adding Leather Soles to Handknit Slippers

Step 1:  Trace around the finished slipper onto scrap paper.  You can either use this tracing as is for a full sole, or you can make split soles, like I'm showing here.  The advantage to split soles is that they require less leather, and they leave part of the slipper sole exposed.  This is a good thing if you ever have to wash your slippers; they can be more easily dried and reshaped with less leather on the bottoms.  To make split soles, draw a large oval over your tracing at the top (toe and ball of foot), and a smaller one at the bottom (heel).  Cut out the ovals and trace each one onto the wrong side of some leather scraps, twice.

Step 2:  To make the leather easier to manage, poke some holes all the way around each piece.  A punch or awl work fine for this.  If you have a sewing machine, though, here's a sexy trick:  Install a leather needle, without any thread in the top or bobbin of the machine.  Set the stitch length to the longest possible setting, and carefully "sew" all around the edge of each sole piece.  Voila!  Perfectly spaced stitching holes.

To sew the soles on, use a hand sewing leather needle and heavy waxed cotton thread.  The tip of the leather needle is an extremely sharp, triangular harpoon of a thing, so don't pull it with your fingertips.  Instead, push it from the eye end with a thimbled finger as far as you can, then pull it the rest of the way through with small pliers.  Trust me: this is the best way to avoid hamburger-fingers.

Step 3:  Now hold your leather piece against the bottom of the slipper (this one is felted, but you can attach leather soles to any kind of slipper).  Leave about 6" of thread, without knotting, and start stitching around the oval.  

A simple edge stitch (shown here) works fine, or if your stitching holes end up further inside the edge of the oval, a blanket stitch is good, too.

See the point of the leather needle?  Not kidding about hamburger-fingers.  Be careful!

Step 4:  Now end with a surgeon's knot.  4a: Cross the thread ends as for a square knot.  4b (shown):  Cross the thread ends twice and pull tight.

Bury the ends between the leather and the slipper bottom, then trim.  

All done!  To make your slippers super-dreamy, install a pair of squishy insoles from the drugstore.  Just cut them to fit and slip them inside.  I've been wearing a pair of slippers soled like this, both indoors and out, for over a year and they are holding up beautifully.  They've been washed and reshaped two or three times too, with no trouble. 

HA HA - I bet you thought you'd get to see the whole slipper, didn't you?  Not today, my friends.  I'm feelin' sneaky!  But don't worry, it won't be long, and I promise you're gonna love them.

Just a Little Bit Foxy

The Jane W. Scott cardigan had to go to the back of the stove while I got back to work, once the yarn I'd been waiting for arrived.  Since the last post, I banged out my last three pairs of slippers for the book.  Contraband Process Photo #1 (don't tell on me for letting you peek):

I'm super proud of these because as the last pattern in my book, they represent the top of a very steep learning curve.  I went from being only a casual slipper knitter at the beginning of this project to an almost-cobbler at the end. 

I've begun to understand the architecture of the foot as it relates to shoes, as opposed to socks.  By which I mean that socks all follow the same basic recipe:  Top, Leg, Heel, Toe.  Or the reverse of that.  And there are variations on the ways to shape each of those parts.  But socks rely on their stretch to fit around feet, and yarn is fantastic at doing that. 

Slippers, on the other hand (foot?), have to behave differently.  They have to support themselves, to a great extent, which means they can't always fall back on their stretch, if at all.  The architecture of the human foot is pretty weird, if you think about it: a flat ovoid at the toes, graduating up to more of a cylinder around the instep, a super-extreme right-angle curve at the heel (which bends, for crying out loud!), and then the cylinder gets bigger in diameter on the way up to the calf.  Making a single piece to fit (and stay on) all that is quite a proposition when what you're knitting is not a sock.  And if the slippers are supposed to look like critters, as do many in my book, the recipe gets even weirder.  Really?  Animals that you can stick your foot inside?  Just another day at the office.  But I think I've mostly achieved it.  Hopefully you'll agree (Contraband Process Photo #2):

"Foxy" from Fun & Fantastical Slippers to Knit, coming soon to a store near you.  My favorite thing about this pair is that there are no seams in the knitting.  The entire shoe, including the instep strap, is made in one piece.  The foxy bits are made separately and sewn on after felting.  But if you look again at process shot #1 above, you'll see:  These are really shoes, to which if you added a sole and an insole, could totally be worn outside.  One day I'm going to try it and see if I'm right.  After I take a restorative break from feet, and the bizarre coverings thereof.

I've also realized that between this and my last book, I've produced 48 projects and patterns in 12 months.  A total of 256 pages.  Which is in addition to my independent projects and teaching.  I'm confident in saying that I've learned a whole lot, in a pretty short time.  I can't wait to share it all with you. 

But first, I'm thinking I'll put my feet up for a bit.

Lickety-Split

No small part of the charm of the Jane Wolff Scott cardigan is the speed with which it is rendered.  The yarn I needed for another project was delayed by one day, so *O Bother* I was forced to play with beautiful blue for a while.  And this happened:

Can you believe that?  The yoke is almost done - I'm only a few rounds away from dividing the sleeves from the body!  The neckline looks strange here because the first and last 13 sts of every round are the knitted-on placket; the edges actually fold under at the end. 

And how about those cables?

They are really fun to make; you braid 3 sets of 2 sts (the original pattern calls it "Double Twist Cable") all on one row - super sexy.  Of course, any 6-st cable can be substituted here; my mom played fast and loose with all sorts of different cables in the many times she knit this pattern.  She even did one version with big juicy 8-st cables, which would have been an easy substitution for her by the umpty-millionth iteration.

That's one of the many delights of this pattern.  By the time you have finished it, you have a very clear idea of how it could be reversed, gauge-swapped, differently-cabled and/or placketed.  My mom's many versions were mostly governed by how much yarn she didn't have, so she altered the lengths of body and sleeves to accommodate that.  There's even one version where she saved yarn by facing the front plackets with grosgrain ribbon rather than knitted facings.  Clever Lady.

The yarn for my "real" project arrived, after all, so Bluey is going to the back burner for a bit (if I can control myself - no promises). 

Possibly the best part of this experiment is communing with my mother's knitting.  It's a little bit like being with her.  The many many hours of my life spent working by her side are so much a part of me that holding her knitting in my lap right next to my own feels a bit like old times. Thank you, Gentle Readers, for encouraging me to pursue my goal of sharing it with you.