Mitten botch!

I made my boyfriend a pair of mittens for his birthday. The pattern is Super Mittens from Melanie Falick's Weekend Knitting, knit in Rowan Big Wool. They don't match, which is intentional. The size is not intentional.



These mittens are like oven mitts. I can easily fit my whole foot in one. They would make decent slippers if it wasn't for the thumbs.



I've used this pattern successfully before, but I forgot that it seems to run a little big. The children's large was a good fit for my hands, so I don't know what I was thinking when I opted to make a men's large this time. I don't know anyone with hands this big. They don't stay on Curtis' hands at all.



Do any of you readers know a someone with very large hands who would like a pair of asymmetrically striped mittens? I can't bring myself to frog them. They're solid stockinette with no ribbing (if they actually fit, the extra length at the wrist helps them stay on your hands). I like this design because it's stripped-down and slightly stylized. It reminds me of drawings of mittens. But as much as I like them, Curtis is never going to wear them, so leave a comment and the pretty oven mitts are yours.

Bring me your thrifted, your marked-down, your ephemeral ...

The other day, I got to thinking about my favorite job interview outfit, which consists of a gray dress, a black blazer and black heels. I rely on this outfit. It helps me feel confident and grown up. I used to wear the dress on other occasions, but I stopped. I save it for interviews now, and having a special outfit does help put me in an interviewing frame of mind.

The funny thing is, this outfit cost $66.00, and most of that went towards the shoes.

I love bargain-hunting: sifting through thrift stores, scoring the deepest department store discounts,or finding one pearl in a rack of cheap trendy clothing. But I also know that low prices come at a cost. Penguin's description of the recently-published new title Cheap: the high cost of discount culture alleges that our lust for deals is "arguably the most powerful and devastating market force of our time—the engine of globalization, outsourcing, planned obsolescence, and economic instability in an increasingly unsettled world."

Nonetheless, I still find it compelling that I paid very little for a good percentage of my most beloved clothing. I've worn my slinky, draped white polka dot top constantly for the last three years, and I still get compliments on it. I like to remind myself that bought it for $2 at a yard sale at 10th and Fraser.

So, in honour of the oft-worn deals that make me feel both cute and cunning, I give you Little Drawings of my Cheapest Clothes.

1. My gray dress. Purchased for about $20 in the fall of 2006, this wool-blend A-line shift has gotten me through many questions like, "How do you handle conflict in the workplace?" Source: a very cheap trendy store near Granville and 15th that I think is called Planet Style (?)

2. My black blazer. Also part of my interview outfit, this simple cotton blazer was originally made for Old Navy. Source: the SPCA thrift store at Broadway and Alma. It was $6.00

3. Black patent leather pumps. Made by Clarks, these mary janes are really comfortable as long as I wear tights or socks with them. Source: the Bay, discounted to $38.00. They are hard to draw.

4. White polka-dot shirt. Although clearly not good quality, this 100% synthetic shirt has worn surprisingly well. It's now getting a little yellow under the arms, but when I wear it with my red-and black polka dot cardigan people go a little crazy. This combination once inspired a bus driver to tell me that I really knew how to pick clothes that suited me, which is a much nicer compliment than "you're hot." Source: yard sale at 10th and Fraser, cost $2.00.

5. Sea-green cardigan. This cotton cardigan originally cost $5.29, but over-dying it and adding new buttons brought the total cost to $28.26. It was the first project I ever documented on this site! Source: the Salvation Army near 15th and Main.

6. Plum dress. I need to wear a shirt under this empire-waist dress, so it provides a fun opportunity to mix and match. Made from a thin jersey-ish material, it's also very comfortable. Source: H&M, about $25.00 (I think).

7. Black and white striped top. A friend decided this shirt was too small for her and gave it to me in 2004, when having a striped shirt was a necessity for hipsters. I was much poorer at this time in my life, and anxious to be considered passably cool by my co-workers at the student radio station. I wore a uniform of low-rise gap jeans, converse sneakers, and t-shirts from the radio station. This gift gave me one more cool shirt to wear. (I also had two-coloured hair and a faux-hawk, which was easily the coolest haircut I've ever had). I don't dress like a hipster any more, but I still wear this t-shirt under brightly-coloured cardigans for a nice graphic effect. Source: my kind friend Crystle.

8. Hush Puppy boots. Low-heeled and made of soft chestnut brown leather, these boots were marked down to $100 from $250. If I could find a black pair I'd happily pay full price for them! They're so comfortable that I wore the heels out a couple times. Now they leak in the rain but I can't get rid of them.

man, robot, monkey

I saw this 20-foot line of cartoonish characters stenciled across a wall one alley over:



Our part of the city sees a lot of stenciled and wheat-pasted graffiti. I like it.

Brain Slug repair day

I made these amigurumi brain slugs for my friends Chris and Arianna last Christmas.



Savy readers might recognize them as minor characters from the animated series Futurama. I used Alica's pattern from her blog, Hook and Needles.



Over the summer, clothes moths ate the slugs' wool felt eyes, so Chris and Arianna returned them for a tune-up. I never thought I'd find a project where acrylic felt would be superior to wool felt, but there you go.

I also managed to fix a minor flaw in the big slug that had been bothering me since I made it. Previously, the ruffle at the bottom of the slug tended to curl up on itself, which kind of obscured its slugginess. Since the slugs are made out of acrylic yarn, I was able to steam the ruffle with the iron. Steaming acrylic "kills" it, making it limp and soft. Now the bottom of the slug lays flat like it's supposed to! I tested the technique on a swatch first, and I also wrapped the rest of the slug in a sock so I wouldn't accidentally steam the antenna.

Now the slugs are ready to be sent home, where they will take their place beside all the other Futurama toys--hopefully mothproofed, and much improved.

Cardigan love

So I bought both of these patterns by Chic Knits, and I'm going to make this one

 












in this semi-solid turquoise Araucania Nature Wool:

 
And I'm really stoked, because I bought this yarn on sale (50% off) a few months ago without a project in mind. I think the semi-solid colour will produce the slight striping that you see in the photo. I'm about 75 yards short, but I think I can manage it. 
 
***


Looking back over this blog, I realize I have a Thing for cardigans. I love cardigans the way some women love shoes. Don’t get me wrong – I LOVE a good pair of boots. But I can’t make my own footwear, so my acquisitive lust remains frustrated by finances.
 
But I have convinced myself that I can make cardigans, and as my knitting skill increases, they only become more appealing. I’ve started noticing tiny details that I never noticed before. Now I can’t look at a sweater without figuring out how I would make a hand-knit approximation. I’ve started reading books about sweater design, and pondering the fine points of sleeve-to-neckline stitch ratios.

Part of this fixation comes from the joy of gaining a new skill. But I’ve also found that cardigans appeal to me in a very deep way. I love cardigans. More than is normal, even for a librarian. Yes, I love knitting, and yes, I am cold all the time, but that doesn’t fully account for the thrill I feel whenever I find a great cardigan pattern.

I grew up in a small town with long hot summers. Even though we had more than one beach, many families had swimming pools. Summer is a central part of the town's lifestyle (Horses, trucks, and skiing are also important) and tank tops were the preferred garment for women of every age (and for nearly every occasion).

But the thing is, I don't like summer clothes. I like layers, dark jeans and close-toed shoes. Recently, I read something in the New Yorker that expressed the lack of pleasure some of us feel when faced with summer clothes. In an article on shopping for swimsuits, Lynne Pepall, the dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences at Tufts University complains, “In almost every other kind of garment, I can find my personality, but with a bathing suit there is nothing for the intellectual-bohemian. It’s either sparkly fun or nun.”

I just wasn’t a tank top person. I was bookish kid who couldn’t swim or spend hours in the sun. Tanks top were the uniform of a place where I didn’t fit in, and symbols of good times that I didn't really enjoy.

A cardigan is the opposite of a tank-top: cozy, textured, and rich. Wearing one implies that you live somewhere cooler, maybe a place where children don’t wear bathing suits to the grocery store. It’s worn by someone who’s more indoorsy, or at least more buttoned up. It's the perfect uniform for my everyday life.

Of course, any knit can go terribly wrong (see the giant patterned sweaters of the 80s, for example). But the vast majority of cardigans are at least okay, and the excellent ones make my heart skip a beat. The practicality of a cardigan makes an outfit appear effortless, like you just wanted to be a bit warmer and looking awesome is just a side effect. It’s the definition of cool: you get to care about your looks without looking like you care!
 
I know I’m really going on about cardigans here, but writing this blog has made me realize how much I like them, and the importance part they play in my esthetic sense.

Now I just have to finish my Noro-striped raglan sweater (which is looking great, by the way) and I'll be casting on my Mondo Cable Cardi post-haste! 

The Beast

A good friend of mine has been knitting the the Medallion Travel Bag designed by Nora J. Bellows. It's a massive knitted bag that promises to be huge even after it's been felted. She made it with two strands of Cascade 220 held together (and I don't mean one strand of black and one of blue. I mean two strands of each color, held together and knitted like they were one).

She calls this giant bag "the Beast."



I've never tried fair isle colourwork, and frankly it scares me. So I've very impressed by this giant, complicated project. My friend has been knitting for a long time, and she might be the most ambitious knitter I know.

However, I don't think you understand how big this bag is.

For example, here's me. I an not very tall and not very wide, but I am a grown-up human.



And here I am INSIDE THE BAG:



Apparently, my friend has now felted the Beast and it's still a very big bag. I'm a bit awestruck at the extravagance of this project and my friend's sheet knitterly abandon. My hat's off to you, lady!

More! Cardigans!

I found these on Ravelry, and I really want to make them:





They're both designed by Bonne Marie Burns of Chic Knits, who makes patterns for very wearable sweaters and cardigans. Her line isn't the most ambitious or fashion-forward, but these patterns are a perfect trifecta of interesting, practical and easy-to-knit. I can easily see myself wearing both of these sweaters. There's a great picture of the Beryl sweater worn a little tighter and knitted with a longer peplum here.

I'm not that happy with my finished garter stitch swing sweater ... I'm seriously considering frogging it to make Beryl instead. It's just too small and it's not very comfortable to wear. Plus it's made from Cascade 220, which is the exact yarn Beryl calls for.

I like the Mondo Cable Cardigan too, but I'm a little more hesitant. I love the collar and buttons, but I'm afraid it would look like a tent on me. Also, it's made from Dream in Color yarn, which is beautiful but rather expensive. Would I like it as much in a cheaper, more basic yarn? I don't know.

A new way to wear a shrug

According to my research (wandering through H&M today), shrugs and boleros are back in fashion. In tribute, I offer this fashion tip gleaned from a Chinese crochet book I found at the Richmond Public Library:





Shrugs may also be worn as neckware.

I kind of like the idea of this. Too warm for your shrug but too cold for just a tank top? Shrug-scarf! I don't really understand how it works, mind you, and I'm hesitant to let things that sit in my armpit touch my face, but that's my hang-up.

If any readers see anyone actually wearing a shrug as a scarflet, please let me know. I especially want to know if it looks good. I don't think it looks completely terrible on this model, but I might be fooled by the cute striped dress and red flats.

Thinking about fashion: part 1

Weardowney Knit Couture: 20 Hand Knit Designs from Runway to Reality by Gail Downey with Henry Conway
Anova Books, 2009



Written by one half of the London-based knitwear label Weardowney, this book looks at the history of knitting, with a particular emphasis on the development of "fashion" knitwear in the 20th century. It profiles well-known designers who use hand knits, including Vivienne Westwood, John Galliano and Jean-Paul Gaultier (this isn't in the book, but interested parties might want to check out the surreal fantasy film The City of Lost Children. Gaultier designed the costumes for this film, which features a few really excellent knit sweaters).

Weardowney Knit Couture also offers 20 Weardowney patterns. The lighting and poses in the photographs tend to obscure the designs, so I was grateful that someone included a few small maniquin shots at the back of the book:




The designs seem a little conventional after all the talk of Westwood and Gaultier. Lots of sweaters and loose cardigans knit in DK Rowan yarns. The only pattern I really liked was the gold-and-white striped tunic dress (far right), with keyhole cut-outs along each raglan. The chevron cardigans (right and centre) seem more appealing the more I look at them, too.

I liked reading about the history of couture knitwear, but much of the book's styling left me cold. Weardowney Knit Couture isn't about making clothes for everyday life. Most of the photos showed models slouching in sweaters, knickers and dark smears of makeup.




It makes for a dramatic picture, but it's not how I wear my hand knits (not out of the house, any way).

In the end, I realized that I'm not sure how to translate Weardowney's high-fashion look. There's a frisson that you feel when you see something that you could adapt to your own sense of fashion. It's the thrilling sense of inspiration, when you see something that seems new but is familiar in a way: you immediately sense the possibilities of it, how it works and how it might fit in to your look. I get this feeling when I look at historical costumes from my favourite periods (or when I watch Mad Men). I don't get this feeling when I look at Weardowney Knit Couture, which doesn't mean that it's a bad book, necessarily, only that the half-clad, glittery, knits-for-models thing isn't my thing at all.