Physician, Heal Thyself

Since learning to knit, I've made a few mis-steps.  There was that Lite Lopi sweater to be worn next to the skin, that hugely boxy, hugely heavy cotton sweater for my mother.   Or that sweater for my Dad with sleeves eight inches too long.  Or that time I thought it would be good to knit a blanket for my boyfriend.  These project failures, I always attributed to poor pattern or recipient choices.  Turns out: I should have just blamed the yarn.

And why is that?  This skirt, the Snapping Turtle Skirt from Knitting Nature, is coming out all wrong.  It's stiff and itchy and utterly unflattering.  It is all the yarn's fault.  There's no way that ignoring the pattern, the qualities of the suggested yarn that make it appropriate for skirt-wear or even the gauge could have anything to do with this unfortunate departure.  I remain convinced that when I block this skirt, it will transform into a spectacularly flattering garment, rather than the cause of such comments as "Well, I guess it doesn't make your ass look huge."

In the last few months, I've had more than one failed project and with my yarn budget non-existent for the next year, I've been carefully considering what makes a project a success.  One miserable afternoon frogging is one too many, right?  In the case of the Snapping Turtle Skirt, I spent so much time slagging the suggested Berroco Suede as a synthetic with zero memory and inconsistent dying that I forgot that its lack of memory and inconsistent dying make for a drapey fabric with visual interest.  Right.  I've taken a heavily spun worsted tweed wool and forced it to act like a chained ribbon.  No wonder things aren't working!

My other recent failures, the Ivy League Vest and Union Square Market Pullover notable among them, have all been caused by this same over confidence.  Knitting like a crazy woman, I've forgotten that I need to have something useful in the end.  I need to slow down, examine what makes the pattern special and the yarn unique.  Of course, sometimes patterns use yarns for reasons other than artistic.  Perhaps it's time to respect the designer's choice at least as far as I can throw it.

The Ivy League Vest?  A failure because I didn't consider the color values and their similarity. And clearly, I learned nothing from this heartbreak, because I seriously considering knitting the frogged yarn into another Eunny Jang pattern, the Deep V Argyle Vest. Wrong gauge, a two color pattern and a blue vest when I never wear blue on top of blue jeans.  But still, in the queue nonetheless.  And a finger poised on the paypal link. 

And the Union Square Marked Pullover?  Not only is it back in the queue, I'm seriously considering trying again with the exact same yarn.  Did I learn nothing last time?  Possibly.  Or maybe, a pure alpaca, in a color that makes me look a heavy set farm girl with iron poor blood.  Let's hear it for a poor fit and a poor color choice! 

I keep thinking I know more than the pattern, that I have some secret understanding of why, when all sense says otherwise, it will work.  This convoluted relationship with my yarns and patterns, wherein I am utterly convinced that this time will be different! is making me miserable.   I baldly walk into this issue, time and again, and just can't tear myself away. 

Which brings us back to the Snapping Turtle Skirt.  I'll  probably finish it in a week or so, block it and meekly convince myself that it's not that bad, that I will wear it.  Then it will get gently folded into the closet, where I will put it on, wrestle into dark tights, unbox some cute shoes and stare at the full length mirror, wondering why I just don't feel good in my clothes.  I will blame not running (surely a culprit), I will blame not sleeping enough, (surely another culprit) and the fact that I haven't had a hair cut in a year (how can I feel cute with all these split ends?!).  I will tug the skirt a little higher, a little lower and wonder where it all went wrong.  But I will never consider a heavy wool inappropriate for a skirt: that would be a problem I could avoid by exercising thirty seconds of caution before handing over my Visa. 

Do I teach a class on yarn substitution? 

You betcha. 

Do I take my own advice?

That's totally beyond the point!  I have brilliant ideas!

Comments

[cashmerecafe]

I wish it was me who wrote this post :)
It is so funny, but so down-to-earth true and exactly what I have experieced many many times (including the episode in front of the mirror!). I have decided to really, really try to stick to the pattern and suggested yarns as often as possible. And to think more than once about what I want on my needles (and later on me).
But on the other hand - the creative path is not so strightforward and the results may be stunning in the end. That's why, I guess we all try to take that road, again and again.

[Glenna]

Aw, I feel your pain. I have 2 sweaters that i worked on last year that just. didn't. quite. cut it. They're waiting to be ripped out and transformed back into balls of yarn, and though it will be hard to do at least I know I'll reclaim the yarn eventually. I guess Real Knitters do things like that, right? ;)

[Lara]

ok, I think YOU said it made your ass look huge, so *I* was saying it DOESN'T, see? "It doesn't make your ass look huge!"

{{sigh}}

I still say don't torture yourself. Give up and cast on for something fun :)

[Caroline]

Ooohhh, I have some pretty bad sweaters skulking around my closet. And I've had my eye on that skirt for a while but I can never quite think what I'd make it out of.

[anne]

I'm with Lara. Frooooog it! The yarn has got to work for something else - it deserves a better life!

[stella from new zealand]

me to, 'guilty as' of knitting inappropriate things. well they were nice on the model, but on me, in that colour - I should have known.
I'd like to thing as I age, i get wiser, but I am beginning to wonder. Oh the joy of process knitting, when what I want to be is a product knitter.