On the fringe

In keeping with my new year’s knitting resolutions, I worked resolutely on my gansey scarf, and boy am I glad this thing is finished. This beauty has been more than two years in the making, not because it was particularly difficult to knit (just purls and knits) but rather because of all the attention the pattern demands. (That, and the fact that I kept cheating on it with other projects…)

This scarf (more of a wrap in this case) is my interpretation of a scarf found in Toshiyuki Shimada’s Ideas for Double-sided Knitted Scarves, a book that’s chock-full of wonderful projects, exuding that inimitable Japanese knitting aesthetics.
My version is knitted in Blue Sky Alpacas worsted hand dyes, a luxurious blend of royal alpaca and merino, which cost a small fortune, making it one of the most expensive handmade items I own. I remember seeing those skeins at my LYS (Lil Weasel), falling in love with them at first touch, and bringing them home with much anticipation (and guilt). Little did I know I would have to wait two whole years (and two days after that – just for adding the fringe!) before feeling the thing’s hefty drape around my neck and shoulders.
Looking back at the making of this wrap, I remember the endeavor of painstakingly writing out the pattern’s instructions from the chart, row after row after row (I could not read charts at the time). This contrasts with the ease with which I read the pattern’s last rows directly off the chart, and makes me realise how much we learn without even paying attention.

Now I can happily fold my garment, put in the drawer, and wait for colder times to come, when it might actually make sense to wear this.
Because that bugger sure is one big warm mass of wool.

Show and tell (Riddari pride)

I am here to tell you it is possible.
I am here to tell you you don’t need fancy ambidextrous knitting skills to work a stranded color Icelandic yoke sweater. You just need patience. You just need confidence. You can pick and drop yarns as needed, no one will notice, no one will bother. Just pay attention to being consistent in the way you position your yarns over or under each other (you know, for color dominance purposes). And above all, keep those floats loose.
I am here to tell you the Riddari pattern is a little marvel when it comes to lopapeysa designs, and that though Léttlopi yarn has quite a rough and scratchy feel between your fingers, it makes a wonderful fabric once washed and worn, and really feels like the right stuff for this kind of sweater. And if I can stand the touch of those sleeves on my bare arms then I assure you, so can you. Assuming, of course, you’re not allergic to wool. And not one of those extreme “Princess-and-the-pea” yarn snobs that recoil from the idea of wearing “rustic” wools (and even then, you should give it a try — ask me how I know.)
I am here to tell you that sometimes a pattern states you need 4mm needles and a size M to obtain a sweater that fits you, but the swatch says otherwise, suggesting you should try 5mm needles and knitting an XL version. Have faith in the swatch, have faith in the math. Have faith and knit.
They say you should graft those underarm stitches with Kitchener stitch in order to respect the seamlessness of the sweater. I am here to tell you a three-needle bind off does a very acceptable, sturdy and good-looking job.
I am here to tell you to wear your Riddari like the proud knight you are.

Oh. I am here also to show off my recent knitting-related splurges…

Knitpro’s “Box of Joy”, a limited edition set of interchangeable Karbonz circulars (which I love, love, love!!!)
And things I’ve bought at the “Aiguilles en Fête” craft fair in Paris last week:
– Noro silk garden (stashing for a future Pop blanket project), Madelinetosh DK (because the color was gorgeous) and Drops lace and worsted yarn (because I haven’t tried out yet what looks like cheap great quality yarn);
– HiyaHiya sock needles (nudge nudge, wink wink);
– a vintage Kaffe Fassett book (grabbed for a measly 3€!!!);
– and a charming little froggie that’s been fittingly made into a stitch marker.

Let them eat brioche

The brioche scarf has been washed, blocked and fringed, and I must say I’m quite happy with the results. I’m still left with some yarn on the magic ball, and I am taking this as an invitation to add in more scraps as they come, and keep the never ending ball rolling.

In other news, I’ve decided not to start any new knitting before I’ve made satisfactory progress on the following three unfinished objects (I’ve been dragging these along for far too long now). This means:
– finishing the two sleeves of my Lopi sweater (I’m hoping that when this tedious part is done, knitting the yoke in stranded colorwork will be a reward in itself, and the whole thing will get finished fast);
– finishing my gansey scarf (can’t believe that thing was started 2 years ago!);
– joining a new ball of yarn on my seed stitch wrap.

We’ll see how that goes.

Having a ball

Well, another year has gone past, and I’m still knitting strong, and having a ball at it. That’s something to celebrate, I guess.
Speaking of balls: on Tuesday night I made myself one of these magic balls, from worsted weight scrap yarn I had lying around. The living room was full of coloured lengths of string, as I cut and arranged and assembled. I didn’t use the Russian join for attaching the scraps together (which was what the tutorial I was following suggested), but tried instead the double knot technique. It worked really fine (I’d say it’s perfect for this kind of project, but would probably not recommend it for less “scrappy” endeavours). I ended up with a nice big ball of yarn, from which I’ve started knitting a simple brioche scarf for my cousin’s young daughter.

Now, let me tell you a few things about brioche stitch I wish I’d known way earlier (you’re probably aware of this, but me? fresh experience!):
– although it looks deceivingly like plain 1×1 ribbing, brioche stitch is something entirely else, both structurally and texturally;
– although there are whole sites and books devoted to that sole stitch and its many variations (including the mesmerizing two-colour version), there is nothing overwhelming about brioche. On the contrary, it’s real easy to knit (I’ll say that again: it’s easy). I don’t know why I was so hesitant to give it a try (if you’re in the same case, you might find this tutorial helpful);
– brioche stitch is fast (and I’d even wager that it’s faster than 1×1 ribbing), because, you see, all you’re really doing is slipping and knitting stitches (no purling).

In other news, I spent the holidays with my family in Mauritius, and tried to find some yarn-related stuff. Alas! Though the island has a thriving knitwear industry, it seems to devote no special place to handknitting. I couldn’t find any yarn store, nor any yarn, apart from the usual acrylic and nylon(!) balls on sale in supermarkets.
I did nonetheless buy myself a beautiful, warm men’s woven wool shawl. It was made in India, and is called a lohi (I’m guessing from the name of a sheep breed). I just love it!

And, on a final note: I regularly post my yarn-related findings on Flipboard. Do have a look.

Not as hard as it seams

When I started teaching myself to knit, I decided early on to stick to a few principles. One of them was that I would not bother knitting things that required substantial amounts of seaming. Another one was that I would not knit baby items. (Yet another one was that I would not knit socks. We’ll have to talk about that some other time.)

The reasoning behind the first choice had a lot to do, in retrospect, with the way Elizabeth Zimmermann’s aversion to seaming had insidiously crept inside my brain, and convinced me that seaming was a tedious, tearful, life-draining activity, better left to stupid knitters who had yet to discover the freedom of going seamless. Obviously, EZ (bless her soul!) was not the only culprit here, since praise for seamless knitting was almost all over the Internet (I’m looking at you, seamless top-down raglan sweaters!), and seaming appeared at best as a necessary hassle you sometimes just couldn’t avoid, but had otherwise better keep well away from.

The motivation behind the second principle was that, as a male knitter, I probably wanted to keep aloof from what I perceived as the most traditional, feminine form of knitting practice. I mean: a woman gets pregnant, picks up needles, and starts making overcutesy baby booties, hats and sweaters. Or suddenly, all around her, people go into a knitting frenzy and produce aforementioned overcutesy items. Me? I wanted none of that. I wanted to make a statement by knitting manly things mainly for myself.

The combination of these two choices mean that I’ve been quite content to knit scarves, mittens, seamless sweaters and throws, as well as the occasional lace shawl. But it seems that all (silly) resolutions must die someday. And as far as these two are concerned, they died the day Alexandra was born.

Alexandra is my godson’s sister, she is seven months old now, and for her (and her mother) I was willing to knit this overcutesy cardigan as a Christmas gift. The pattern (garter bottom cardigan) is part of Petite Purls’ clever (and free) Back to Basics series.

The different pieces of the cardigan were knit quite leisurely over a week, using 1.5 skeins of Malabrigo’s wonderful Rios superwash worsted merino in the Glazed Carrot colorway. Blocking, seaming and finishing were done during the week-end. How’s that for undelayed gratification? While working on this project, I greatly benefited from:

• this Ravelry post on cardboard cutting boards, that had me buy one of these handy boards for blocking purposes;
• this tutorial by Cheryl Brunette, which covers almost all the skills needed for making a sweater (that are also quite useful in many other situations):

• and this handy primer on seaming methods for finishing handknits.

Believe it or not, before this first cardigan project I had not really put into practice the following skills, which I only had a theoretical understanding of:

• seaming in different varieties of mattress stitch (which I now know to be a pleasurable activity in its own right);
• making i-cord, attaching it and using it as a button-loop;
• making a shank for a flat button, and sewing it on knitted fabric.

What about you? What are the silly knitting principles you’ve got rid of lately?

I went to London and all I got was…

I had a professional meeting in London yesterday, with a couple of hours to spare around Oxford Circus. So I planned to use my time visiting the surrounding yarn stores, and treat myself to special findings I might come across. I first went to the yarn department at John Lewis. Shopping for yarn at a department store might not sound very exotic or exciting, but the supply was substantial and the yarns on display quite… appealing. I tried hard to resist all those wonderful Rowan skeins, Debbie Bliss varieties, and Noro assortments. In the end, I bought 2 balls of Louisa Harding merino/silk blend, pour la beauté du geste you might say (and with the idea of making yet another lacy baktus kerchief).

You see, I wasn’t in a buying frenzy since I intended to have a look at the fancier stuff at a place I had heard of, called All the fun of the fair, off Carnaby Street, in Kingly Court. Alas! When I got there, the shop was nowhere to be found. A thorough(er) search on the web taught me the place did not exist anymore, having closed earlier this year. How’s that for lousy planning? (I’ve learnt since that other people have experienced the same frustration.)

It was getting late, and time for my meeting, which lasted for hours on end. So afterwards I only had time to hop on the last Eurostar to Paris, with just a few meters of blue merino and silk yarn in my bag.

Next time, I’m getting my revenge.

Leap of faith

Progress is being made on the lopapeysa. Having finished the bottom part of the body, it’s now time for the sleeves. Once you get the hang of it, knitting two of those at once on two circular needles is no worse, in my experience, than knitting one sleeve at a time with dpns or the magic loop.

Knitting sweaters does strange things to the mind. One day you’re convinced the whole thing will be too small to fit, and the next it becomes self-evident you could put two of you inside that big bag of stitches. You can’t trust your senses, and you can’t rely on the confidence your swatch and all those calculations are supposed to bring. You can only have faith. And carry on.

Well, let’s carry on, then.

 

One hundred grams of silk and merino

There’s something about the Baktus scarf that makes it a pattern I often find myself compelled to knit. Something about that combination of garter stitch and sideways triangular construction that’s just satisfying for the soul. And that basic, easy-to-remember pattern just begs for experimentation. I’m especially fond of the lacy variation by Terhi Montonen, with which I’ve knitted one of my go-to accessories. And now I’ve added this striped, variegated, blue-red version to my growing collection. Whipped up with a mere 100g of Louisa Harding’s Grace silk and wool blend, and stretched quite a bit on the blocking mat, the thing drapes nicely around the neck and looks much more sophisticated than it actually is.

I know I’ll be making more. And adding a twist of my own, next time, probably.

Knitting in the finest city

I’m in San Diego, attending a scientific conference, and had decided to keep this strictly professional. But you know how it is… You take a look at the Knitmap in your free time, you find a local yarn store that looks nice, and you figure it would be a nice stroll… And, hey, wouldn’t it be great to buy just a little skein of American yarn to take home – for keepsake purposes, mind you? There’s always your handy fellow knitter/weaver who thinks it’s a great idea too, just to have a look you know, not necessarily to buy anything…

And you indeed end up in The Grove‘s knitting section, spending a full hour going through their nice choice of yarns, and buying things for the stash monster you’d sworn you wouldn’t feed.

Just an update…

After a couple of twisted starts, and the timely discovery of the fabulous 3-in-1 TECHjoin, I am happy to say that progress is being made on the lopi sweater. Which is good news, since fall has already, erm, fallen I guess, here in Paris.

I’m trying to pretend I can’t hear that little voice at the back of my mind that keeps whispering the sweater is too small and won’t fit. That freaky little voice that doesn’t believe in measuring tapes and is unyielding to algebra.