Phoenix From The Ashes

When haunting thrift stores, I always keep an eye out for cashmere. Because, Cashmere.

I’ve discovered that often when it comes to cashmere, the older it is the better. Case in point: This very large, very old, very masculine gentleman’s V-neck. I imagine it belonged to a golfer, due to the extraordinary vibrancy of the purple.

It washed up by machine like a dream, fluffy and delicious. Ruby and Atlas were dubious that I could transform it into something more wearable, though. Dogs of Little Faith.

Two aisles over from where I scored the sweater, its long lost matching shirt awaited my discovery. Coincidence? I think not.

Purple Sweater suffered from a number of holes, which I was able to mend by cutting off the ribbing from the lower edge and pulling out some yarn to darn them with.

Here’s the completed mend; integrity restored, but still visible.

But here’s what it looks like after several passes with a needle felting tool. Far less obvious! It turns out that cashmere (at least this example) is extremely resistant to felting. I had to felt from both the front and the back sides of the fabric to blend in my darning.

My next order of business was to remove the neck edge ribbing, and the cuffs from its too-long sleeves. Once all that tight ribbing was off, I began to visualize a new silhouette for it. I traced the location for an asymmetrical cardigan opening in chalk.

I scored some beautiful cotton batik for bias binding, with buttons to match.

And here’s the completed resurrection:

I haven’t decided yet weather to alter the shirt into a more feminine shape. What do you think, Gentle Readers? Would you tackle a thrifted cashmere project?

Start to Finish

As a public service, Gentle Readers, I’m here to announce that it’s not too early to start thinking about the weekend. In fact, my message today is an invitation to begin at the end and work backwards:

If your goal were to create a picture suitable for hanging, what If I challenged you to design your ideal frame first, and then fill in the middle?

If you had a really clear idea of what your completed knitting would specifically be, with all of the design, fit, yarn and finishing decisions made before you even cast on, how might the end result be different from when you’ve worked the other way around?

I have been asked many times to teach a class on finishing. For a long time I couldn’t see why I should, because lots of great classes about specific techniques are already available. It wasn’t until I realized that my design/planning process is very different from that of other designers that I understood what my “finishing” class should look like. And so that’s what I teach now: Planning ahead for Happy Endings.

I have learned that answering a series of questions for myself at the beginning of my knitting serves as a project management tool. It allows me to keep on time and under budget. To stay true to my vision, while remaining open to the possibilities.

Start to Finish is part show-and-tell, part wish list-building, and part project management. We discuss yarn, fit, design, and everything in between, with the stated goal of beautifully finished knitting. The process applies to any project, and all skill levels.

Best of all, there’s nothing to buy and no commitment. It’s a mental exercise that we practice together, and is yours to keep thereafter. The only preparation you need for class is to take yourself on an imaginary shopping trip. Visit your stash, your pattern queue, or your imagination to come up with something you’d like to knit. That’s all. It can be as complicated or as simple as you wish. Just bring your ideas, the pattern if you have it, or a photo. We’ll practice asking ourselves all the right questions to plan the project as if you are really going to make it, and see where the process takes us.

CLICK HERE to sign up for Start to Finish this Saturday, 03-20, 10AM - 1PM PST.

Rabbit Hole

I can’t believe I’m knitting plain old simple stockinette in the round. It’s been For. Ever. since I found myself doing TV Knitting. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

Yes, I know this is a totally bizarre way to construct a dress. You’ve known all along, Gentle Readers, that my process is somewhat, um, unconventional.

““...You have your idea you want to do, but then you got to figure out what does this thing want to be? You got to let it lead you a little.””

— Jerry Seinfeld

I always envision the result first, often at the most unlikely or inconvenient time. Then I’m compelled to find a way to get it. Then I figure out a way to show you how to get it. In at least four sizes. Always, I hope, keeping in mind that just because I conjured up a thing doesn’t mean you would enjoy it.

Once upon a time, I dreamt of the little rabbits in “The Unicorn and the Lady” Tapestries:

La Dame à la licorne, Musée de Cluny

I startled from the dream with the design fully formed in my head, and raced to draw it as a chart before the magic of that place between sleep and awake evaporated.

Wild Hare Mittens, ca. 2012.

At first he was a mitten. I wanted to work him out on a small canvas, and mittens are perfect for that. Once they were done, I thought the itch had been scratched.

But the Wild Hare, as he told me he was called, had other plans. He stayed with me, hopping around in my brain, always wanting to be something else. Something More. I told him to be patient, to wait for the right time, the right yarn, the right garment.

But instead, he did what hares will do: He multiplied. He insisted that he and his friends needed room enough to hop around. Perhaps in circles, so that they would never have to stop, and never worry they might fall off an edge. And he wanted a bigger, grander border to keep them company; something that would remind him of the Lady, and the Unicorn, and the tapestry where he was born. I resisted his his pleading. I told him there were books to write, children to feed, and other stories to be told.

The Wild Hare would have none of it. “A Dress,” he said. “You must make us a dress to live upon.” “I’ve never knitted a dress,” I argued. I wasn’t sure knitters would like to make such a big project. The Wild Hare didn’t care. He pestered and multiplied and haunted my dreams.

Seven years passed. The books got written, the children got bigger, and many, many other stories were told.

And then finally, one day, a box full of magic arrived, unsuspected, unsolicited, and completely delightful.

Shuksan Sport, Jorstad Creek

The softness. The drape. The halo. At long last, I gave in to the Hare’s entreaties. I had run out of excuses. It was time to go back down the rabbit hole.

Care to join me? Watch this space…