Nothing to wear
Ok, a brief break from the cooking (and geekiness, love you David, mwah mwah).
I've completed two knitted garments recently. Both were intended to be comfy but stylish wardrobe staples for my winter - ah feck it, for my wardrobe, I don't have summer & winter wardrobes here because it is SO DAMN COLD the whole year long.
Anyway, these were going to be great garments. A lovely, classic cardigan in a nice teal merino (the Tangled Yoke, for knitters in the know), and a chunky v-neck vest in what was supposed to be pale grey, but ended up being pale lavender, but thankfully looked all right (Rowan - seriously, name your colours better in future please!).
Both patterns saw me measure myself carefully, select the appropriate size, and check my gauge (for non-knitters, that's the number of rows and stitches per cm, to make sure you'll get the intended size). I *never* check my gauge normally, because I always knit to it anyway, but I checked.
Both garments ended up HUGE on me. Not cutely oversized in a kind of stylish way - massive in a even-too-big-for-a-fake-hiphop-wannabe way. That's right, not once, but TWICE!
The cardigan has been shipped off to someone who will look stunning in it. The vest has been frogged (again, for non-knitters, this means unpicked and undone), and I've cast on again for the smaller size, which is supposed to be too small to even get over my head. I still want the cardigan, so I may try again at the smaller size that is also supposed to be too small to accommodate me... right after I look at the other* project I have on the needles that may also be too big.
Knitting gods, wherefore hast thou forsaken me? Is this a hint to bulk up for winter? Because I had plans to do exactly the opposite, but all this knitting and ripping and having nothing hand-knitted to wear is really starting to bug me.
I've completed two knitted garments recently. Both were intended to be comfy but stylish wardrobe staples for my winter - ah feck it, for my wardrobe, I don't have summer & winter wardrobes here because it is SO DAMN COLD the whole year long.
Anyway, these were going to be great garments. A lovely, classic cardigan in a nice teal merino (the Tangled Yoke, for knitters in the know), and a chunky v-neck vest in what was supposed to be pale grey, but ended up being pale lavender, but thankfully looked all right (Rowan - seriously, name your colours better in future please!).
Both patterns saw me measure myself carefully, select the appropriate size, and check my gauge (for non-knitters, that's the number of rows and stitches per cm, to make sure you'll get the intended size). I *never* check my gauge normally, because I always knit to it anyway, but I checked.
Both garments ended up HUGE on me. Not cutely oversized in a kind of stylish way - massive in a even-too-big-for-a-fake-hiphop-wannabe way. That's right, not once, but TWICE!
The cardigan has been shipped off to someone who will look stunning in it. The vest has been frogged (again, for non-knitters, this means unpicked and undone), and I've cast on again for the smaller size, which is supposed to be too small to even get over my head. I still want the cardigan, so I may try again at the smaller size that is also supposed to be too small to accommodate me... right after I look at the other* project I have on the needles that may also be too big.
Knitting gods, wherefore hast thou forsaken me? Is this a hint to bulk up for winter? Because I had plans to do exactly the opposite, but all this knitting and ripping and having nothing hand-knitted to wear is really starting to bug me.
Oh, that sucks! Two garments!
Did you measure the gauge of the finished objects to see if your gauge hadn't changed?
If so, it's that stupid ease again, I bet. I find that lots of patterns are written with lots of ease, which makes no sense. For a while, I was convinced it was just the yarn companies wanting you to buy more yarn.
I am SO, SO, SO lucky that I'm bigger than you, because I love that cardigan SO, SO, SO much, and there are not enough superlatives in the world to describe my elation when I'm wearing it. I wear it everywhere. Even when it's too warm out. I wore it to an awards dinner on Halloween where Helen Clark was speaking. Many, many people admired it. I will be happy to receive any of your knitting mistakes, anytime, because let's face it, you're a thousand times more stylish than me and it's the only hope I have of looking cool. Plus, I can airily tell the admirers of said cardigan, "Oh, this was a gift from a friend in Ireland. Yes, she made it herself. Isn't she a genius?" and watch them shrivel with jealousy before my very eyes.