In Which I Revert To Type

I stopped knitting for my son Campbell when he was somewhere around the 6th grade. It became clear that not only was he growing faster than I could knit, but that there was no end in sight to his growth spurts. This coincided with a decrease in his interest in wearing handknits, so at the time I called it a win and focused my energies on futile attempts to keep groceries in the house.

Of course I always hoped he would regain an enthusiasm for things his mommy knits, but that was tempered by the knowledge that he comes from a line of big, tall menfolk. Cam is now 22 years old, and 6’5” tall. He asked me in October if there was any possibility of my making him a sweater before the end of this winter. Naturally, I laughed out loud before gently informing him that it was unlikely. And by “unlikely”, I meant “statistically improbable”, within the limits of time, energy and caffeine.

He’s a mostly reasonable sort, (not sure where he gets that from), and said he wasn’t too disappointed/surprised, but that it never hurts to ask. It was sweet. Even though he has watched me knit sweaters for his whole life and knows very well how long it takes, he seemed to hope I might somehow subvert the laws of nature. How adorable, when one’s grown children still think her all-powerful.

A little before Christmas I couldn’t stand the guilt anymore, and honored a long-standing family tradition: The Delayed Gratification Gift:

I gave him a big ol’ box of yarn. 4,185 yards of it, to be exact. Like I said, we grow them big at my house. Since the request is for a cabled Aran, and I’m planning an attempt to dye it to order, I decided not to play around, yardage-wise. A person close to me who shall remain nameless (not Campbell) and can do math informed me that that amount of yarn is over two miles. Mathelete.

At 465 yards each, these are just huge skeins. Since I needed to re-wind them into hanks for dyeing, I decided that I would divide them into halves in order to better manage the extreme yardage. Thanks, Start-itis!

It was fun making friends with this yarn, which for some reason I have never worked with before. I chose it solely based on the criteria that A. I could physically attain it in time for Christmas, and B. I could afford what amounts to a motorcycle-cozy’s-worth of it. Right off the skein, it seemed a bit flaccid, even possibly underspun. That could just be due to handling/stretching in its production, though. Since I’m going to dye it first, I have high hopes that it will recover some bounce. Interestingly, it also contains a fair bit of kemp, and even some vegetable matter. Both are easily removed though, and are probably part of what make this yarn so affordable. Additionally, as advertised, it does retain a fair bit of lanolin, too, which may dissipate when it’s washed, allowing it to bloom. Oh, yarn! You are so full of mysteries…

Here are the re-skeined hanks, eagerly awaiting a relaxing pre-soak, followed by a hot dye bath makeover.

It’s hard to believe that a world of color is going to come out of this little beige box! Since the yarn contains a fair bit of grease (and other possible substances unknown), I’m trying Synthrapol for its presoak. Also shown is Campbell’s dye color of choice. Care to guess what delicious shade he has requested, Gentle Readers? Submit your best guess in the comments by 01.15.24 and I’ll send the winner a prize!

Once Upon A Sweater Vest

As we all know, it’s a rare piece whose maker can say is the best example of all things. Nor should it be, because that’s too much pressure to put on mere mortals with string.

But there are some knitted things which serve as useful examples of certain concepts.

This is one such garment. Flower of Nepal is a little sweater vest I knocked out to wear on tv once, when I learned there are colors and silhouettes that cameras hate. There was little time to spare (surprise) and even less yarn (natch), but lunatic that I am, I elected to knit something new. I used the opportunity/challenge to bang out a vest, with several experimental elements. I didn’t bother to write down any pattern notes, thinking that I wouldn’t need or want to publish the design. Given the unreasonable timeframe (about a week), I would be lucky to get a garment at all, never mind one worthy of the full “pattern-I’m-going-to-sell” treatment.

But it ended up that I quite liked the little vest. Some of the things I tried out on it were successful enough that I began to include it in my sample collection. I only showed it to my steeks students, and usually not on their first introduction to my circus: It’s a little bit thinky for the uninitiated. But for my experienced/returning students (Repeat Offenders), it’s a useful example of some advanced ideas. To wit :

1. The power of knitted hems to both display repeated motifs and add structure to an otherwise simple shape

2. The magic of shaping adjacent to cuts in knitted fabric (a cornerstone of my Shapely, Sexy Steeks class)

3. What happens when sock yarn can becomes a garment, with certain yarn characteristics accounted/adjusted for

A funny thing happened when the students got to play with it: They touched it, they tried it on, they liked its simplicity and ingenuity. They wanted the pattern. And by “wanted” I mean “suggested assertively that I get busy and make it happen, already”. I tried to argue that there were enough things I didn’t like about the vest that it wasn’t appropriate for public consumption. That while a useful example for class, it had elements which limit its knitability/wearability/appeal, and would have to be completely reworked. That its stash-dive yarn combo could not be reliably replicated by knitters.

My protestations were dismissed.

After a few repetitions of this exercise, I understood that resistance is futile. Like everything in knitting, it only hurts worse if you struggle. I pledged to rework the whole design, not just as a canvas for techniques, but as a carefully crafted and sized garment. One that would be both fun to knit and beautiful to wear. In short, one that is worthy of my knitters.

But the yarn problem remained: How could I replicate the strange and unusual color combination? What yarnmaker would sign up for such folly?

Enter the lovely and talented Kerry Graber of Jorstad Creek. Without trepidation, she took my little vest to her studio and worked all manner of magic. She chose the perfect base, and waved her wand over simmering cauldrons of color until she manifested this:

Did you ever? Me neither. Stunning doesn’t begin to describe it.

Once I had these gorgeous jewels in hand, I set about reworking the design. Stay tuned to see the process of how I reverse-engineered my creation for you, Gentle Readers. I think you’ll enjoy the ride.

Knitting Fearlessly

Rhubarb: A Fearless Sweater

For some knitters, the idea of making a garment is scary. They might not be the ones you would expect: I’m talking about knitters who have already made lots (and lots) of other things. They have earned their chops. They have made bobbles, booties, and blankets. They have cabled, and laced, and intarsia-ed their way all around the block.

But they’ve never made sweaters.

This isn’t a judgement - heavens no. There are lots of you out there who are perfectly happy not to make clothes at all. There are even designers (famous ones!) who never make garments. Everything they publish falls firmly in the accessory category. They wouldn’t know an armscye from an armadillo, and they are perfectly happy with their work, thank you very much.

So today’s message is not for them. Instead, I’m reaching out to those who just need a gentle nudge out of their own way. I’m calling to you, Gentle Knitters, who have never made a sweater because it just seemed, well, hard. What if it doesn’t fit? What if I pick the wrong pattern for my first try? What if I don’t like it when it’s finished ? And what’s the deal with “wearing ease”, anyway?

Lots of us have been stopped by those very questions on the path to sweater smugness. But I’m here to tell you that you can do it, because I believe in you.

I believe in you so much that I’ve created a very special class for you with its own pattern. The experience has four sessions, spaced far enough apart for you to make lots of progress in between. There’s no pressure to finish your sweater within the prescribed workshop time, but every support in place if you want to. I’ll be your personal guide, yarn whisperer and pattern sherpa. Together we’ll work on how to measure our bodies, select personal design elements, and yes, demystify wearing ease. Because I think that every knitter deserves to wear their own work, and to feel beautiful and accomplished when they do.

Our class project is the Rhubarb sweater, shown above. I created it especially for knitters making their very first sweater: It’s elegant but wearable, stylish without being trendy, and flattering on all kinds of different bodies. I wanted to make a pattern for you that is challenging without being complicated, and simple without being boring.

Won’t you join me for a little adventure? I promise to show you how brave and beautiful you are.

CLICK HERE for more information and to register.