Here Is Some Pretty For You

Last weekend I taught a day of lace (History, Methods and Styles of Lace followed by Lace Edgings: Before, During, and After) to a gung-ho group of students. One of them brought a surprise: a box of nineteenth-century knitted lace stockings.

I thought you might like to see them, and though I'm still learning to love the camera that lives in my new telephone I was able to take some tolerable photographs during our intermezzo.



They are family pieces. The knitter (who prefers to remain anonymous) says they were made by her great-grandmother (who was married in 1819) for her grandmother–a sweet and all-too-rare example of a knitter's handiwork being lovingly preserved and properly documented.

All are white cotton. There are knee-highs and thigh-highs. The knee-highs have ribbed tops.



The thigh-highs were obviously extra-special: turned-over picot hems, lacy tops, and then a row of eyelets just below for threading a ribbon tie.





The leg patterns were beautifully varied and the workmanship was impeccable.





And how to do you make a gorgeous gift like this even more special? You knit the recipient's initials and the date into it.



Notice that the initials are upside-down, just under the fancy leaf-lace top. I wonder if this was intentional (so that the wearer would see them when she pulled them on) or whether the knitter was halfway through when she realized what she'd done; and then decided she was absolutely not going to start over again. Hey, it happens.

Nineteenth-century knitters...knitters just like you and me.

Less Impressive Socks

The new Knitty is out, and as ever my column is in it. This time, by coincidence I wrote about a Victorian sock. A kid's sock. A flat kid's sock. A flat kid's sock knit from an 1870 pattern I just absolutely hated.

Blow Me, Thou Winter Wind

And the crabbiness continues over at the Lion Brand Yarn blog, where I wrote about spring, or the lack thereof; and drew a spring chicken.

Is this any way for a grown man to make a living?

Such Language, and In Front of the Dolls

Knitty's Deep Fall 2011 issue is out today, which brings with it the second (and blessedly final) installment of the Weldon's Practical Knitter baby doll ensemble, the first part of which appeared in the previous issue.

A prominent feature is the looped edging that gives the otherwise simple bonnet a bit of kaboom.



Weldon's was on a loopity-loop kick at the time. In the twenty-sixth series of Practical Knitter (from whence come the doll clothes) the technique is featured repeatedly. Good thing, too. The pattern I was working from omits the key maneuver that prevents the whole thing falling to pieces when you shake it. A comparison with a pattern for a woman's coat–on the very next page–showed me where the error lay.

Once I had the knack, looped knitting wasn't difficult, though I wouldn't want to edge an entire coat with the stuff. It's certainly eye-catching. Tom was transfixed when he saw it.

"What the heck is that?"

"Another piece for Knitty."

"One of the antique ones?"

"Yep."

He pondered the narrow, furry strip trailing off the needles.



Tom doesn't knit, but at this point he's heard (ad nauseam) about Fair Isle knitting, Faroese knitting, Estonian knitting, Latvian knitting, Portuguese knitting...

"What do you call it?" he said. "Because it looks like Brazilian knitting."

Nota bene: If you don't get it, darling, I'm afraid I am not going to explain it to you.