Swatch Me!

Over the past few weeks I've encountered several knitters who expressed concern about a current project. "I can't use these needles...they aren't big enough," said one. "Why does mine look different from yours," asked another, while the third simply stated, "I don't like the fabric I'm getting."

My question, to each, upon hearing their plaintive cries for help: Did you knit a gauge swatch? And what do you think they answered? Right. Not one had worked a swatch, though like good knitters they had the decency to look sheepish (surprise pun!) about it.

Lest you think I'm a judgmental b**ch, let me tell you that: (a) I'm intending a teasing tone, not a stupid-people tone here, and (b) I myself have sung the no-gauge-swatch blues on several occasions.

For instance, my Shapely Tank, a free pattern from White Lies Designs, turned out to be neither shapely nor a tank. I substituted a Rowan cotton-and-silk yarn for the one called for in the pattern -- before I understood the characteristics of different fibers -- and ended up with a baggy tunic destined for unraveling.

Had I swatched AND washed AND blocked AND hung my swatch up overnight to test the effects of gravity on the fabric, I might still be wearing that top, my first-ever "sweater."

Now that I've been designing for a while, I know the importance -- the complete and total necessity -- of swatching. When I work up a design, I make a swatch, including washing and blocking it; then I base my final pattern numbers on the gauge measured from that little piece-o-knit. So I want knitters to swatch before making one of my designs, because if they don't, they're likely to be unhappy with the results.

My love of the swatch has carried over into my personal knitting life, as well. Recently, for example, I spent a goodly amount of money on some gorgeous Classic Elite "Soft Linen" and a Dolce Handknits pattern for a cute summer cardigan.

I know my gauge when working with DK-weight yarns, and wanted to jump right in and start knitting. But the yarn wasn't cheap (to me, anyway) and I knew I'd be sick if I did all that knitting and found the sweater didn't fit.

So I worked up a 6 x 6" gauge swatch, washed, and blocked it. Then I hung it from a curtain-top with a couple of clothespins to see if it stretched. After all that, when I cast on, I felt pretty sure that I'd end up with the perfect, crisp, summer sweater to chase the icy chill of even the frostiest air conditioning.

Now, I know there are many, many knitters who just can't be persuaded to knit gauge swatches. Maybe they're just too excited to spend the extra time, or (my favorite excuse) they'll say, "I always knit to gauge." But whose gauge do they knit to? The truth is: There is no set-in-stone, universal gauge. Honestly.

Every designer -- every single knitter -- knits to his or her own gauge, depending on yarn weight, fiber type, stitch pattern, needle size, needle material (bamboo, metal, cassein?), and even the enthusiasm with which they block their garments. Some people stretch the hell out of their sweaters and pin them, while others just pat them into shape.

So next time you consider casting on a new project -- unless you've knit it before with the same yarn OR you know from dozens of pairs of socks that 64 sts on a 1.5mm needle always fits you OR you're making a scarf or other non-size-dependent item -- please consider knitting and "dressing" a gauge swatch.

Make it fun. Have a little swatching party with some friends or just put your favorite movie on the telly and crack open your tastiest treats. Hold the booze, though, at least until you've finished knitting the swatch.

Because as lovely as it may be, a wine-induced glow is bound to increase your risk of knitting at an ultra-relaxed gauge. Once you've bound off, though, pop those corks. And while you're at it, raise a glass to the oft-maligned gauge swatch, won't you?

Swatch Me!

Birds do it, bees do it...

Well, actually, they don't. But now I can say that I do...

Steek, that is! Yep, I knit for years and yet managed to avoid steeking -- the "cutting of the cloth" that many knitters dread. I didn't actively avoid it, and never really thought of it as something scary. I simply never steeked, because the patterns I used didn't call for it.

But, in March, Meghan, the genius behind the addictive Stitch It! Podcast (if you don't already listen, you should!), issued a challenge to all her listeners and Ravelry group members...kind of a contest, which you entered by cutting a piece of knitting -- a sweater, scarf, or swatch. As long as you could show "before and after" photos.

So I grabbed a swatch I made from the Cottage Craft yarn I mentioned in my last post. It's very rustic and "grabby," so I didn't worry about crocheting or sewing to hold the steeked part together.

In fact, I just cut it in half -- liberating! -- took a picture, then wadded it up and threw it in my sewing box. And it's still in perfect shape, not at all unraveled.

The moral of the story? If there's something knitting-related (or related to anything you like to do) that you've put off doing -- don't put it off any longer! It really, really feels good to try something new.

Now, on to that cardigan I've been planning...Maybe I'll just knit it in the round and steek it!!!

Birds do it, bees do it...

More Coming Attractions: New Pattern Sneak Peeks

Coral Reef Cuff

I know. One of these days I need to actually transfer my patterns from notes to nice, clean PDF files--complete with photos and helpful how-tos. Until then, though, I think its fair to offer you a sneak peek of a few things I've been working on...

Barn-Door Socks

First, the Barn-Door Socks, knitted in Noro Kureyon Sock on US#1 needles. I love the way the subtle lace pattern looks in the rugged, slubby Noro yarn. I also love the woolly feel of the yarn when I knit with it...Is it just me, or does it leave a soft lanolin-type feel on your fingers?

The colors are simply beautiful. I've never spent a summer on the shores of Maine, but these colors evoke what I imagine it would be like: a silvery-brownish tone, like weathered-wood shingles; pale muted purple, like the twilight sky and the mist that rises over the ocean; aqua and turquoise, with flecks of white, like clear waves crashing on jagged rocks.

A surprise is in store for the heel and toe shaping--they'll be fun to make! The fit is great, the yarn isn't rough on your feet (despite the slightly scratchy feel as you knit it), and the colors and quiet stitch pattern could make for a unisex sock--depending on tastes, of course.


Next is a currently-nameless tea cozy. I knitted this swatch in Peace Fleece worsted-weight, a wool and mohair yarn with a decidedly sheepy feel. I absolutely adore this yarn and am entranced by the Peace Fleece story.

Tea cozies have enjoyed a renaissance during the past couple of years, and it's easy to see why...Sure, we enjoy our coffee--really enjoy it!--in the U.S. But most people I know also enjoy a cozy cup of tea from time to time.

In fact, during the colder months, when the air seems to crackle and snap and make the inside of your nose burn, knitters and crocheters dream of settling in on a deep, cushiony sofa with a hot cuppa and their current project (fireplace optional). For non-needleworkers, the scenario is the same, but usually includes a much-beloved book instead of a scarf-, sweater-, or sock-in-progress.

Either way, once you settle in on the sofa, the last thing you want to do is get up for more hot tea every half hour. Thus, the tea cozy. This pattern will be an easy, quick knit, with an eclectic twist, making it a great idea for Christmas and other holiday gifts.

Freesia Socks

Finally, more information about this sweet pair of socks knitted in Shalimar Sock Yarn. Shalimar is hand-dyed by Kristi, who owns Eleganza Yarns in Frederick. This pattern's name, "Freesia," was inspired by the azure blues and creamy yellows in the ultra-soft merino yarn.

In my sophomore year we moved to Marin County, and I had to change to a new high school (Tamalpais H.S., in Mill Valley, CA). Tam has a gorgeous campus, built on a hill, with lots of grass and trees. One building encompassed a courtyard, with four tree-planters surrounded by a sort of colonade.

Beneath the trees, the planters were filled with Freesias. When the sun shone down mid-day, the entire courtyard would be thick as honey with their scent. Though I didn't know what the flowers' name at the time, I fell in love with their dizzying perfume. I can almost smell them when I look at this yarn…

The heel and toe in this pattern are a bit unusual, as I've been feeling a little bored with the ubiquitous short-row heel and wedge toe. The details will make for a feminine sock that looks pretty from every angle.

I know you'll just put them in shoes and probably hide them under a pair of blue jeans, but that's OK. Think of these socks like delicate Parisian underwear--even though no one else sees them, you'll know they're there!

More Coming Attractions: New Pattern Sneak Peeks

Not About the Socks

Remember these socks?

No? Well, if you're interested, you can look here. If not, don't worry...this isn't about the (warm, cozy, comfy) socks. It's about that lovely Corriedale roving.

Oh, those colors! They were like Italian water ice and gelato. Raspberry, blueberry, grape...Transluscent, saturated colors. I dyed the top/roving with Karida. It was our first hand-dyed roving experiment last fall. (She founded Neighborhood Fiber Company last year.)

Karida let me keep her Louet S10 at my place--a studio apartment...my husband's so nice. (Well, with his trombone and trumpet taking up space, there wasn't much he could say, right? But he's still the nicest person ever.) So the S10 and I made friends while I practiced with some coarse Finn top they sent to me.

(Like my chaotic fiber workshop/breakfast nook? I'm happy to say that the boxes are finally gone and our mirror is on the wall.)

I'd never spun before, so it took a few tries to get it right, but my drop spindle experience really paid off.

(Check it out: We have a Murphy bed in that cabinet!)

Not that my first attempts at wheel spinning felt easy, mind you--the speed was challenging. It made sense, though: I looked at the wheel and thought, "OK, there's the hook, there's the place that acts like the drop spindle shaft (the bobbin), that's the part that puts the twist in the yarn..." You get the point. It just made sense to my brain.

After spinning the Finn for a while I started getting a consistent, DK weight singles yarn. So I took a deep breath and switched to my beloved roving. I was afraid of "wasting it," of spinning yarn the color of mud, the thickness of a pencil (I don't care for bulky yarns), of breaking or overtwisting it into a useless ball of crap. But I didn't.

Ta da!

Now, this all took place last fall. What a great learning experience! Books like the Twisted Sisters' Sock Workbook and Deb Menz's excellent Color in Spinning were invaluable. Because you can't just grab a bunch of roving and spin! Oh, no, no, no. You have to prepare the roving: separate it into thinner strands, roll them into sweet little nests of fluff, and plan out how you want to use the colors. I tried the one-color-at-a-time method for a while, but wanted more colorplay. So I changed my plan and created a yarn with candy-stick color twists.

Oh, lovely yarn! Why did I abandon you for so long??? It took me weeks to get around to my decision to not ply--it homogenized the colors--and then to set the twist. Finally, washed and dried, my yarn was ready to wind on the niddy-noddy. The final product? Three bouncy, springy skeins (about 500 yards total) of gorgeous singles DK yarn.

Knitted up (I swatched it yesterday...nothing seems to happen quickly around here!), the yarn was drapey, with a subtle glossiness and long color changes.

Now...I just have to decide what to make with it. Entrelac? Maybe a smaller version of the Lady Eleanor Stole (from Wrap Style)? If you're out there lurking, help me out! Suggestions are welcome...

Not About the Socks