Tag Archives: want to knit

I’d Love to Knit: Things for Friends & Family

I’ve accrued a pretty large mental collection of people I ought to knit for, and I need to write everything down.

  • Back in July, at a trunk show in Williamsburg, I told my sister Charlotte to pick out some yarns, because I was going to make her a pair of socks and a hat for her birthday (less than a month away!).
  • I need to knit a pair of socks for my friend Jay, because he’s not only been a good friend to me, but also emailed me a photoessay called “Socks on a Train” (choice quote, “After a shower and commute to work, these socks give me the confidence I need to be successful in today’s competitive corporate environment.”), and also because I hear they’re wearing out.
  • I also hear that my friend Shaddi’s jacket is starting to wear out.
  • And Zac’s parents have been so incredibly good to us in the past few weeks that I feel moved to knit some nice things for them, too.

Want to Knit: Wellwood & Breton, Plus, My Pattern-Purchasing Policy

I know I’m preaching to the choir on this one, but the BT Fall 2012 collection is nothing short of jaw-dropping. And it isn’t just the gauzily lovely work with the 50mm (please, God, one day)– the designs, written by Jared Flood, Michele Wang, Véronik Avery, and Julie Hoover, are all things I really want to wear.

Okay, so, a few days ago, I splashed out on two patterns (…and, while I’ve got your Divine Ear, if anyone wants to send me some Loft…).

photo © Brooklyn Tweed 2012

This is Wellwood.

photo © Brooklyn Tweed 2012

And this is Breton.

My usual way, when it comes to purchasing patterns, is to only buy what I can’t reverse engineer on my own. Two years ago, I would have asked, “Why do I need pay Jared Flood $6.50 to make a striped pullover?” but, these days, I am all about buying patterns.

It isn’t just that I’ve gotten older and lazier, and want someone to do my math for me. Nor is it because, now that I have this small bit of experience designing, I know what it’s really like, and want to support other people who are doing the same thing. I buy patterns because, these days, the production values are so damn high.

I could slap together a pattern for a striped pullover in a paragraph (in fact, I have this fantasy of Caroline’s Insulting Knitting Book, where the directions are just: “Okay, now, if you want sleeves, make sleeves. What are you, stupid?” Except people would call it witty and pithy, instead of just short-tempered and mean.). These patterns are both twelve pages long. Everything– every. single. thing.– is fully explained, elucidated, elaborated, and expounded upon. Brooklyn Tweed is going to take care of you, knitter! The schematics and specifics– no, the blueprint– come on fancy grid-ruled backgrounds. Shoulder tops, increase, and decreases are fully-fashioned. Different types of selvedges are employed for seams that will see more or less wear and stretching. Charts are purpose-built– zero crappy charting software to be seen. Need to know how to block something? Here’s what would pass as a short magazine article on the subject! I’m not even going to talk about the fact that there’s a whole lookbook that was laid out and put together (plus, it included an article/photoessay on maple sugaring? IS BROOKLYN TWEED MAGAZINE IMMINENT!?!?).

Now that I’ve seen a bit of what it takes to put together, let me just say: good Lord this took an incredible amount of work. I’m amazed I only paid $13 for the two. Wonderful job, y’all– I am too impressed to even be the slightest bit jealous.