How to Make a Kiltmaker's Pincushion

I promised my pal Dave from Kilt school that I'd send him some of my favorite Japanese sewing needles.  Which immediately shifted to the rear burner when I got home and remembered I had to finish writing a book.  And writing two new classes.  And making a new sweater.  Dave's been been patiently waiting through all that, just to get some needles.  I got them finally, and decided it would be nice to send a little surprise along with them.  

One peculiarity of the kiltmaking process is that the maker needs a pincushion that can be operated with one hand.  When you reach for a pin, your other hand is always holding a pleat firmly in place.  And most pincushions lift off the table when you grab a pin one-handed. And yes, those magnetic thingys are heavy enough to stay put, but you can't be assured of grabbing the non-pointy end of the pin every time. Ow.

So, self-proclaimed Clever Beastie that I am, I decided to solve the problem, while making a weighted pincushion for Dave.

At the end of every kilt, there are leftover scraps from where each pleat is cut away.  I thought it would be a fun forget-me-not to use some of mine for Dave's surprise.  I cut two scraps into circles, and applied some iron-on interfacing to their backs (kilt tartan, though heavy, is actually somewhat loosely-woven, so the interfacing will keep the twill firm).  Then I cut two more, slightly smaller circles from scrap fabric.  The size of my pincushion was dictated by the size of my tartan scraps; about 5 1/2 " in diameter.

I considered several options for material to weight the pincushion. Pennies would be too hard to tuft through.  Fishing weights were too expensive.  Beans or rice might mildew in time. Buckshot would have been ideal, but I was all fresh out and much too lazy to procure any. Finally I just pilfered a handful of pebbles from my neighbor's footpath.  I washed them with soap and water in a strainer and let them dry completely.  Next, I stitched the two smaller circles together, leaving an opening for pebble-insertion.  Sidebar: Barb Tewksbury, our kiltmaking teacher, is a geologist by trade.  I feel sure she'd approve of the rocks.

I stitched my tartan circles together, leaving an opening for stuffing, and poked the bag-o-rocks inside.

With the pebble packet on the bottom, I stuffed the upper part of the cushion firmly with wool roving, and sewed the opening closed by hand.

I threaded about 2 yds of narrow ribbon through the longest ribbon embroidery needle in my collection, and stabbed it straight through the cushion from top to bottom.  It took a few attempts to wiggle the tip of the needle through the pebbles and make it come up in the center of the bottom, but eventually I got it right.  I used a thimble and pliers to work the needle through all the layers, and left a tail of ribbon about 8" long on top of the cushion.

Here you can see how I made the "petals" of the cushion.  I just worked a big "stitch" with my ribbon, around the edge of the cushion, and back up through the center where I started.

I pulled the ribbon snug, then made another stitch on the opposite side of the cushion, again coming back up through the center starting point.

Here are two more ribbon wraps, just like the first.

I made a total of 6 ribbon wraps, pulling each one snugly.  Then I made a small (1/4") ribbon stitch on the underside of the pincushion, bringing the needle back up through the center of the top.  I passed each end of the ribbon through the shank of a button, knotting securely, and buried the ends inside the pincushion.

Done and Done.  I tested it, and am happy to certify that this is an Official Kiltmakers One-Handed pincushion.  I'm predicting a few more of these in my future...

Fanatical Coat

The fruits of my research are beginning to pile up.  I've isolated some books that mention Fana sweaters, and marked their pages with sticky notes.  I'm waiting for two more books in the mail (old ones from Norway, via Germany and Australia) that hopefully will round out the collection.

But this week's big breakthrough was on the internet.  I had searched for Fana information high and low, using every engine and every word or combination of words I could think of.  Or so I thought.

Turns out if you're going to research a topic whose name is not in your native tongue, you should actually make sure you're translating that name properly.  Yep.  It seems that "Fana Sweater" (English) will deliver a few hits from the google-nator.  But "Fanakofte" (Norwegian for "jacket in the style of Fana") will really bring home the bacon.

Duh.

And then once I found the ten million blog posts from every modern Norwegian knitter who's made a Fana in the last few years, all I had to do was implement Google Translator to make sense of them.  But not exactly.  Because I don't speak Norwegian, and Translator doesn't speak Knitting.

Google Translator: "I made my Fanatical Coat for this the traditions technical."

Probably Means: "I made my Fanakofte using traditional techniques."

It's pretty hilarious.  Poor Translator is trying so hard, but it doesn't know knitting things at all. "Masker" means "stitch" in Norwegian, not that the knitter was wearing a mask.  I've had to take a few giggle breaks between attempts.  But thank goodness, photos are helpful in any language, and knitbloggers are great at showing what they mean.

Meanwhile, my own Fanatical Coat progresses.  I'm pretty in love with it so far, although the checkers were acting really corrugat-y at first.  I knew I'd left enough length in the floats, but the unblocked fabric still sucked in like a supermodel's stomach.  Scared me a little, so I finally broke down and hit it with some steam on the ironing board.  

Just as I had hoped, the checkers lay flat, given a little persuasion. Bullet dodged.   Can you imagine if I'd been lying to myself about the length of the floats and had to start over?  Thanks, Knitting!

I promised myself after nine stripes (1/2 of the number I need before it's time for the shoulder border) that I could go button shopping.

Man, I am a cheap date.

Yarn at Last

It's been remarked that I've been *somewhat* on edge while I waited for yarn to arrive.  And by *somewhat*, they meant that I was chewing the table legs.  What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants.  And in my case, it's string.  Specifically, This String:

It's Rauma Strikkegarn, from Norway, via the Yarn Guys.  Yep!  I'm starting the sample Fanakofte for my Stars and Stripes class!  And this is a particularly virulent case of start-itis.  I haven't knitted a stranded colorwork sweater in at least a year and a half: Much, much, too long for me.

And I *may* have anticipated the need for applied trims in this project.  Anticipated, yes, but not actually decided on one.  In a rare moment of clarity, I pulled the trigger on an entire collection, knowing I will use them all at some point.  Really.  I will.  Look HERE for yours.

And with that, it's time to get going.  Start your engines!