to knit
with this reclaimed Wool Crepe Deluxe, I thought back to another time. The
following is my editorial from KNITWORDS #13, March 2000:
In January, I went to
London, England and participated in the 'Knit, Stitch and Creative Crafts
Show'. It was a lot of fun and very different from our North American knitting
machine seminars in that it was mostly a selling show, not a lot of teaching
like we normally have here. I had a booth next to Elaine Cater and I gave a 25
minute 'talk' once a day for the four days. It was a bit different without a
knitting machine to hide behind, but it was kind of cool to have people come up
to me and tell me they liked my Canadian accent. The first few times, I tried
to tell them I didn't have an accent, but soon realized I was fighting a losing
battle. One of the best things, I
was in charge of what they call the 'knitting clinic'. It was twice a day for
about an hour each time. It would be announced over the sound system that “Mary
Anne Oger from Thunder Bay Canada, blah-blah blah would be in 'stand' 78” and
anyone who had questions, problems or whatever about machine knitting could
come and talk to me and it was my duty to either solve the problem or offer
suggestions as to where the knitter might go to get help. By far, the most
interesting lady was an 83-year-old, smartly-dressed machine knitter who told
me a lengthy story about how she had knit a skirt from one designer's pattern.
It had turned out so nicely that she chose a different designer's pattern and
made a 'blouse' to go with the skirt but wasn't happy with the result. The fit
wasn't quite right. She had knit it using 3 strands of a very fine bright
acrylic (Bramwell’s Silky). I was politely listening to her story, waiting for
the moment I could jump in and solve her dilemma. She began relating how she
'unpicked' this thing and put it into hanks. She then washed it and hung it to
dry, adding weights to it to remove the kinks. Much to her dismay, when dry, it
was still crinkly. By this time, my eyes began to glaze over, and I was
clamping my teeth in an attempt not to scream out, 'throw it in the 'dust
bin'!'. I managed to retain my composure and sanity as she then went on to say
how a friend asked her if she had tried the microwave. My mind was gone!
Gripping the edge of the table, hoping she couldn't see my white knuckles, I
faintly asked, 'huh?' Anyhow, dubious herself, she then wound the used,
crinkled yarn onto plastic cones, which she assured me, she fully expected to
melt in the microwave (they didn't); added a cup of water and stuck in the
'mike' for 8 minutes. It worked out beautifully! Did I have any suggestions on
what she could now knit with this reclaimed acrylic?
She then purchased one of
my books and, finally able to speak, I asked her if she subscribed to the
magazine. She, very politely, told me that she had seen a copy or two and
didn't like it as there was nothing in it that was of any use to her.
After she walked away, I
realized I hadn't found out whether the recycled yarn was still triple stranded
or not.
Oh, by the way, the topic
of my speech was 'The benefits of working with natural fibres.'
1 comment:
How funny!! The sad thing is the lady had no idea what she was missing by not having your magazine. I myself, having been raised by very thrifty parents (that old Scottish blood runs deep, especially when it has been through the Great Depression) that is till find myself wasting time trying to salvage something that is worth very little Thanks for the reminder that throwing it in the dustbin is often the better alternative
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