Thursday Night: The Market Preview
I make a quick call to C to let him know I have survived my first class and that I'm having a ball. He is audibly amused by my enthusiasm, which seems to grow by the minute.
Jon and I have an early dinner in the sports bar of the Hyatt. It is my first encounter with convention center food, and I wish I could know it will be my last. We watch two men from the auto parts show (also taking place at Rosemont) try to chat up a pair of knitters at the next table. The men’s excitement is palpable. Everyone knows that girls who like yarn are loose.
It’s market time. Nobody will be allowed in tonight except students. As we make our way to the entrance, we become part of a surging throng puts one in mind sharks following the scent of blood.
Last night, thinking ahead to the New York City trip and further photography/portfolio expenses, I made a deal with myself. No buying in the market unless 1) the price is incredibly good and 2) the item is something I would not be able to get in Chicago or online for a similar price. As I go through the doors and am confronted by the sight of more knitting paraphernalia than I’ve seen in my enitre life, I have to grit my teeth to keep my resolve from melting.
Thank God I’m with Jon. He’s a very good guide, leading me gently from booth to booth pointing out the best (and the worst), answering a constant trickle of questions with patience and occasional amusement. We frequently meet people he knows from past shows and it's obvious he's a very well-liked and well-respected person in this field.
Much of what we see is beautiful. We also see an awful lot of novelty yarn. Awful in every sense. Chacun à son goût, darlings, but I will never understand the urge to knit with yarn that resembles:
- Christmas tinsel,
- shag carpet,
- foam insulation,
I am tempted by so much else, but even though there’s much to slobber over, I refuse to give in to impulse buying. This isn’t so hard, really, as long as I keep before me a mental image of myself sleeping in a Chicago alley on a large pile of cashmere yarn, rats chewing the ends off my rosewood needles.
We visit The Yarn Barn of Kansas City and I see a rack of Elizabeth Zimmerman videos. $95 for the set of three “Knitting Workshop” or “Knitting Around.” I pick them up. I put them down. I pick them up. I put them down. I pick them up. I put them down. I suggest to Jon that we please move far, far away from The Yarn Barn of Kansas City right this very minute.
We meet up again with Robert, an extremely nice fellow from Minnesota who Jon knows from a previous Stitches. Robert is witty, friendly, and modest in spite of prodigious knitting accomplishments. He will be in my six-hour lace knitting class tomorrow and I find this cheering in the extreme.
As we meander I’m able to finally see and touch yarns that bloggers mention daily, but I’ve not encountered before.
Thursday night I sleep fitfully, and dream of yarn.
To be continued.
(Yes, as I matter of fact I am going to draaaaaag this out as long as possible.)