Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Re-folded

My friend Al and I were talking about linen the other day.  I want to make shirts, pants, dresses--okay, everything--out of linen right now.  Curtains.  Sheets.  Lacy petticoats.  What else is there?  Linen is so great.  Soft, always getting softer, and covered in wrinkles, but the very best kind of wrinkles, the kind that make you look like you've spent the day yachting with the Kennedys.  After the Esme dress I made last summer clung like crazy to everything and I finally ditched it in sad desperation, you all advised me about linen, and you were right.  Anyway, Al had this piece of nubbly, natural, untreated and homespun-looking linen in his stash, leftover from some kind of breadmaking endeavor, and he gave it to me.  I made a Kiomi top (from Lotta Jansdotter's book "Everyday Style") and I'm hoping there is enough summer left to wear it.  
As many of you will already know, the master pattern sheets in that (gorgeous and inspiring) book are a special hell to decipher, but once you have identified and located, traced and cut the pattern pieces out, whew, you are through the worst of it and the sewing is easy peasy.  I think this simple little shirt is going to be a really useful wardrobe piece for me, especially in a regular, real summer year, where it is hot for many days.  You know, summer, instead of whatever this is.  
I was about to fall asleep last night when suddenly, the specter of my sorta-finished Folded drifted malevolently into my mind, making me feel guilty and unsettled, and I realized that if I expect to wear this anytime at all, and certainly before approximately a year from now, I'd better get in there and fix it.  This thing was done, blocked, and sitting on the shelf in the closet, awaiting a public outing, and it sat there for a long time, unworn, before I finally admitted to myself that it was too short, and also a little too narrow at the bottom hem for my personal taste.  Which was a little bit of a pain, because Folded is worked from the bottom up, which means that too-narrow hem was the cast on edge, and one of the only non-magical things about knitting is that you can't just unravel from where you started--you can only unravel from where you ended.  Well, I didn't want to rip out the whole sweater and start over, making the cast on edge bigger (for a wider hem) and I didn't want to just abandon the sweater altogether (this is Madelinetosh Merino Light!  Yummy!) so the only thing left was to cut off the hem and knit it down from there, which after lying awake in anticipation of the endless tedium of doing that, I finally did this morning, and it was an hour of work.  Note to self:  See?  Get in there and get it done, you'll feel better.  To remove the hem, I snipped one stitch right above the ribbing, unpicked each stitch one at a time, and put each loop back on the needle, one at a time, until I had all the stitches live again, and ready to knit--top down, this time--where I will work an extra set or two of increases and add more length to the whole thing, finally ending with the ribbing.  It's a little bit painful to do this, cutting into a completely finished object with scissors and then picking at it for an hour, but honestly, it is waaaayy less painful than knitting an entire sweater in fingering weight yarn and then never wearing it because I'm too lazy to spend half a day fixing a small problem.  That's not how I want to roll.  So, tonight I will knit a few inches of stockinette and then the ribbing, and then I will want to wear this. Luckily, the weather is perfect for it.