First, I want to say how much I enjoyed reading the lovely stories about your knitting Supporters after my last post!

It seems that there’s even hope for men who have to be won over! I love the ones who take it upon them selves to buy yarn, and the daughter who hunts for yarn bargains in thrift shops. When you have a passion, everyone knows how to please you, right?

Although it’s not one of my favourite colours, I decided this week to embrace my inner purple, and make a scarf with two hanks of Manos Silk Blend (now on sale here).

There was method to my madness. A knitter asked me recently to demonstrate the technique for making a loop (ML) that is included in the pattern for Daphne’s Baby Cape (below) in Knit 2 Together

The loop decoration (you can make the cape with or without loops) was inspired by one of my favourite books,

Knitting Essentials, a collection of wonderful 19th century patterns for everything from lace edgings to a football sweater and hunting cap, with petticoats and bonnets in between.

I’ve posted a lesson on how to “make loop” in the menu at right.

Now to the loop boa and the question of whether it, or something like it, has a place in your wardrobe.

Even if you’re a minimalist, you have to admit that there’s an occasion in everyone’s life when the outfit at hand requires a touch of intrigue. Enter the frouffy scarf. There’s no better way to feel and look fabulous.

How about this look from the designer who always manages to combine avant-garde with ultra femininity, a delicate balancing act: Vivienne Westwood. Who else could include bows and loops and keep it modern?

There are many lovely patterns for frilly boas. Here’s one of my favourites, the ingenious Elizabeth:

but Elizabeth requires a lot of knitting, in a fine mohair. If you’re in a hurry, my loop boa is your answer. It can be made in an hour or so.

I used 2 hanks of Manos Del Uruguay Silk Blend, and a size 10 mm [US15] circular needle. With 4 strands held together I cast on 128 stitches and made two consecutive rows of loops, binding off the second row as I made the loops.

Isn’t knitting marvellous that it allows you to make beautiful things so easily?

Meet my new toy. I found it in New York and have now managed to import a few to share with my fellow Kiwis here.

If I hadn’t already been hooked, I’d be tempted to try my luck at good ole crochet just because I love a beautiful thing, and this is. It’s the crochet equivalent of the I Phone. Form and function, and it’s ergonomic. Comes with 6 hook sizes.

Once I cradled my egg shaped wooden handle in the palm of my hand, I could sense the panic of all other hooks in my tool kit, fearing an imminent trip to Goodwill.

Let’s talk about crochet, a much maligned craft.

Every once in a while you read something like this from a fashion reporter:

“Your grandma is being channeled on high-fashion runways this spring, with crochet appearing on everything from dresses to swimsuits, handbags to shoes”.

It’s usually referring to something elegant such as this

why grandma, even though grandma is adorable? It must be because of the “granny” square, so named I know not why.

I’ve always loved crochet squares and have never thought of them as hippie or grannie or anything other than fun and colourful.

Which is why I loved it when Cate Blanchett stepped out of  everyone’s comfort zone and appeared on a red carpet in Melboune last year wearing this dress by Aussie designer Romance Was Born. There were shrieks of “ugly!” “how could she!” “wearing her sofa!” Lets face it, Cate can do anything, wear anything and is fearless when it comes to fashion and her profession. That’s why we love her!  She doesn’t play it safe is always elegant and best of all, seems to not take herself too seriously. The wit of this dress is evident and suggests a hard up housewife who has made her blanket into a dress. What’s wrong with that? I would think this should be applauded in the age of recycled chic.

One person in high places got it. Paul Smith, who always enlivens his preppy style with dash and humour, put this on the runway a few months later. It really does look like she’s draped herself with a blanket. But why not?

Hands up those who have never admired a pair of crochet shoes?

I used to own a pair of blue suede Valentino oxfords, the uppers of which were crocheted mesh made with strips of said blue suede. They were spectacular and I wish I could show them to you. note to self: never again sell shoes in yard sale without first taking a photo.

Not to worry, there are other designers understanding the appeal of crochet.

Chloe

Rachel Comey

Tory Burch

John Galliano outrageous beauties

If you can’t afford designer shoes, there’s always, as we well know, DIY.

Here’s some inspiration: the leg warmers are knit, I believe, but they’d be even more fun in crochet. Kind of like wearing your sofa around your ankles?

As I was working in my veggie garden today it  crossed my mind that

weeding generates a fertile mind. ideas spring forth.

it’s frosty here and I would love to knit a hot pink helmet

also, a version of this pullover worn by Jane Birkin, seen here in the 60’s clutching her signature basket which inspired Hermès to make the legendary Birkin Bag so that she could grow up and be a proper lady with a handbag.

Being my mothers daughter (leave a little to the imagination, dear) I have no intention of being naked under my Birkin style jumper. I thought I’d wear it more like this one, seen on another style icon, Françoise Gilot, former wife of Picasso. Habu fine merino for the gossamer effect  and wool stainless steel for structure, would do the trick, I think?

Françoise again, here in the famous Robert Capa pic wearing the dress I have always longed for. For those of us with less than perfect legs, when, oh when, will ankle length return?

We can blame the short skirt on the fabulous Jean Shrimpton (also wearing the pink helmet above), first real supermodel. Here she is in her accidental mini, causing a sensation with her bare legs at the Melbourne races in 1965.

We may not have to wait too much longer for the maxi. I spotted a khaki version of this Comme Des Garçons skirt on the sale rack at Barneys, alas not in my size. Where Commes go, others follow……

OK then, back to work.

By nature I am really a homebody, with no desire to go anywhere except my sofa, kitchen and garden where I would happily knit, cook and potter for months on end, if it weren’t for my beloved family who live too far away. I miss them so, and the time comes when I just have to jump on a jumbo and go see them.

Here are some snapshots from my recent trip.

Above, beautiful waterlilies in the Brooklyn Botannical Gardens.

Below, the window and delightfully old fashioned signage of one of my favourite stores in the world, Tender Buttons, on E 62nd St. It’s a tiny store lined with vintage and new buttons exquisitely displayed and one of those places that sets your heart racing the minute you walk in…if you’re a button lover, that is.

Around the corner from Tender Buttons in Central Park, on my way to the Met, this elderly gent was walking ahead of me. How chic and comfortable he looks in his bright green shirt and suspenders.

Inside the Met I was, as usual, agog at the beauty and the level of excellence possible in such a grand institution.

Below, the marble ceiling which was echoing with the sound  of a chamber orchestra.

I spied this display case tucked away in a corner next to the lift down to the cafeteria.They’re folded cloth napkins! Can you believe that someone has gone to the trouble of following the instructions in a 16th century book of napkin folding? Wow! What fabulous dinner parties they must have had back then Royalty, no doubt.

Here’s a closer look at the pages, in case you need some inspiration for your next formal dinner…..

Upstairs was a Picasso exhibit. I loved the deliberate composition of this self portrait. He’s so stylish. Is it a smock, or a jacket? Either way, I want to make one!

Up on the roof of the Met was this spectacular structure made of stems of bamboo tied, yes, tied! together. It’s a work in progress, and the day I was there, a woman was perched high on top, tying in more lengths to an already vast work. If you’re game, you can take a tour and walk up through it.

Downtown late in the day to meet India after work, I couldn’t resist the window at Lion Brand’s Studio, 34 West 15th St. I know they have more resources at their disposal than your average independent knitting shop, but the attention paid to detail in their store is impressive, from the sampling wall to the hand woven blinds on the windows at the back of the store. They employ talented and creative people, too, to create displays like the one below: Coney Island created with yarn.

Out on Long Island for a few days with my family, I was stunned by the beauty of the North Fork. We stayed at a cottage on Long Island Sound where the beach, because it’s stony, is empty and ideal for beach combing.

I loved this delicate arrangement of twigs deposited by the tide.

Bright green seaweed was smeared along the shore, and in the stream that came from a small lake down to beach.

Back in NY, I sheltered from the extreme 90 degree heat the same way I sheltered from a snow storm many years ago: in the museums. In the courtyard at MOMA was Yoko Ono’s Wish tree.

Some of the wishes:

that there were more tags available to write wishes on

that every day was my birthday

world peace

to find the right man, have a child and get my dream job but it will have to happen soon because I’m almost 40!

I didn’t write one, but if I did it would have read: to live closer to my kids!

Thank you for your comments on my 80’s knit parade last week. I really appreciate it. I did not mean to apologize for the 80’s. I have very fond memories of that decade: I arrived in the USA, my children were young, small enough to willingly wear anything I knitted them and sit on the back of my bicycle, I was young and because of that, could wear shoulder padded jumpsuits and not look silly. I also wore apple green-and-hot-pink cowboy boots, Native American Seminole skirts cinched at the waist with a silver belt, and my ears dripped with turquoise. It was an exciting time in fashion.

For a moment, the 90’s will have to wait. They’ve been interrupted by this news flash from my friends at Koigu: Maie Landra’s latest design, this stunning dress.

I’m absolutely wowed by it. Doesn’t it look like something Maid Marian might wear in Sherwood Forest? When I look at it I see many influences:  the Renaissance, 1970’s caftan, art deco, and most important, a future when we will all be wearing comfortable ankle length hand knits that hide a multitude of sins and are also elegant and fashionable. What do you see?

Evidently a simpler version of this will be appearing in Vogue Knitting Fall 2010. For fans of Koigu Kersti, the lovely model is none other than the little girl the yarn was named after, quite grown up now.

I’ve been at a loss for words this week.

So I thought I’d do some reminiscing. Taking a look at the past can provide a clue to the way forward, don’t you think? An astrologer who did my chart a long time ago told me I should look through my photo albums at least once a month to remind myself of who I am and where I’ve been. This, he said, is essential for a gemini because we tend to live in the present and jettison the past too easily.

The past in this case is some of the work I’ve done in knitting in the years before I had my shop in California and before I wrote my book with Tracey.

Some of these are designs that I sold under my own label. They were made by  a group of dedicated and intrepid knitters in New Zealand and sold to boutiques in the USA, mostly on the East Coast. Does anyone remember Stewart Ross on Madison Avenue?

This week it’s 80’s: the puffed sleeve and shoulder pad decade.

The design above has the sleeve equivalent of big hair. It’s called Fantasque, named after a Clarice Cliff vase. I find CC an inexhaustible source of inspiration. She is one of my passions, along with shoes and buttons.

Below is a cardigan inspired by the line drawings of Matisse. It was published by Vogue Knitting Winter 1989.

This is Hopi, my best seller from that time. It’s a big cozy shawl collared cardigan that reflected my love of the South West and anything Native American. The buttons were old Indian head nickels.

Cleaning out my Mum’s apartment after she passed away last year I found one of these cardigans in her closet. She wore it up until the very end of her life.

Another southwest inspiration. In the late 80’s and early 90’s crushed velvet prairie skirts, lots of big turquoise jewellery and big concho belts were the thing. This style makes a comeback every couple of years, it seems. No wonder. It’s classic.

For something totally different, a designed inspired by textiles from the Kuba people of pre-colonial Africa. I wish I still had one of these.

This feels a little like being on an archaeological dig in my own life. Next week, it’s the 90’s……

Yes, it really is autumn.

I say this with emphasis because my family in the northern hemisphere are always incredulous when I mention it. I remind them of the teacher in grade school with a tennis ball (earth) circling a soccer ball (sun), tilted and spinning as it goes, exposing one half of our planet to more sun than the other half for half of the year. Phew. Hold on while I try that with balls of wool to see if I understand it myself.

On my morning walks I’m reminded of the ephemeral nature of autumn colours. How quickly the chartreuse, yellow and red fade to a dull dry brown.

I want to capture them in my knitting.

There’s a new Rowan yarn that’s inspiring me. It’s made from used garments and it’s called Revive. The fibres are collected according to their silk, cotton and viscose content, carded and spun into yarn, so it’s 100% recycled. The word that comes to mind is scrumptious, like the home made granola bars from my local cafe. Sweet, satisfying and guilt free.

Revive lends itself beautifully to lace. Here it is in Trellis Leaf pattern from  Barbara Walker’s A Treasury of Knitting Patterns. It’s going to be my between season scarf.

It’s also handsome in good old stockinette stitch.

I want to make this tunic top, named Parsnip!  I love the neck button and subtle gathering on the three quarter length sleeves. Doesn’t it look like just the thing for picking fruit from the pear tree?

Parsnip can be found in this booklet: Purelife Recycled Collection, beautifully styled and lusciously presented as is the Rowan way. All the patterns are designed by one of my favourites, Marie Wallin. Here are a few. I’ll pretend not to notice if you drool.

It’s not all melancholy here. Amongst the autumn pile there’s always a hibiscus or two, reminding us that tropical islands are not far away.

This week I have a mystery to solve with the help of you, dear Readers.

David and I have been staging our own personal Luis Buñuel film festival. You can do fun things like this when you don’t watch TV.  I know, I know, there’s TiVo if you find the ads tiresome, but we like to support the guys at our local independent video store  who seem to stock everything that’s ever been made.
Buñuel’s movies are in Spanish, subtitled in English, which makes them counter productive for those of us who can’t sit on a sofa sans needles, except that you might just want to put your knitting down anyway, because they’re so beautiful you won’t want to miss a frame.

If you have an appetite for social commentary, his scathing portrayal of Spanish politics and customs, fascism versus socialism, the Church and the bourgeoisie will give you plenty of nourishment.  Or you can enjoy the stories at face value, as dark romances where women are used, but always have the last word. If this all sounds a bit heavy handed, fear not. Buñuel has a light touch and is often funny.The wallpapers, silverware, embroidered table cloths and crocheted bedspreads make a satisfying meal, to say nothing of the superb acting and richly textured settings. It’s a feast, with lashings of hot chocolate and delicious Spanish cooking.

Our two movies this week were Viridiana, made in 1961, and Tristana, from 1970. Both feature young women who are seduced, with tragic consequences, by the old devil who shows up in many Buñuel films and is always played by Fernando Rey. It’s painful to see these innocents in the grip of the lecherous old man, but without giving the plots away, they do manage some revenge. I think Buñuel liked women.

Here’s where it gets interesting: the lovely young women in both these movies are knitters. Viridiana, played by Mexican actress Silvia Pinal, wears a knit(or crochet?) cape, and is seen throwing her knitting into the fire, so deep is her despair. Buñuel makes a point of showing this in detail. Needles, basket, yarn, everything gets tossed into the flames. She does shake off her seducer and gain her freedom but does she really need to burn her knitting to do it?

Here she is, about to do the deed….

Tristana, played by Catherine Deneuve, is seen wearing a capelet very similar to the one worn by Viridiana. She, too, knits. Now get this: Catherine Deneuve, a French actress in a Spanish movie, is NOT knitting continental. She’s knitting English style.

But the most important question is: are the capes knit or crochet? I’ve tried stopping  both movies multiple  times to try to figure this out,  but I don’t have the answer. Look closely. Any ideas?

Tristana

Viridiana

and finally, my favourite line from Tristana…..

The men in my life are very specific about what they will and won’t wear.

To give him credit, Pete willingly wore all kinds of dubious hand made items until peer pressure kicked in and he became master of his own fashion decisions. On the  first day of kindergarten he set off for school wearing a pair of home made Jams, about to find out the hard way that store bought is cooler. Gone were the days of his Mum deciding what he would wear. No more corduroy knickerbockers for him.

Just one year old, my little nephew Lucas is still delightfully lacking opinions about his own clothes, a stage that won’t last long. What to make, then, to celebrate his first birthday? A little fishermans’ vest with pockets for his favourite things.

I attribute my fondness for vests to my Dad’s love of clothes and his signature look, which was something like this: a tweed suit and vest.  Timeless. He didn’t have much money and the same suit probably lasted him for twenty years, but he always looked well dressed , never old fashioned.

Here are some vests from the various eras my Dad lived through. Vest and cigarettes were inseparable, it would seem.

The cardigan….

the classic v-neck….

and the argyle…

You could say that Jimmy Page brought them back in the 70’s. I became a fan of the Yardbirds because of this vest. Worn tight and short over a full sleeve shirt, it was classic rock star chic. I wonder if Jimmy’s Mum was a knitter?

Here’s a very 80’s vest from a book of knitting patterns with Australian motifs. A good Aussie bloke loves his Mum, and will wear anything she makes him, it seems.

Will these neck lines ever stage a comeback?

Now, if you’re in the mood for a little retro style and your man won’t object, here are some of my favourites.

A classic Fair Isle by Alice Starmore, in her book The Celtic Collection

A stunning argyle in Knitting For Him, by Martin Strory and Wendy Baker

and in the same book, a chic Fair Isle cardigan.

Who could resist a man in one of these? Whether he’s a metrosexual or the old fashioned macho type, there’s something for everyone in vest style.

For Lucas’s vest I used Koigu Kersti. It would be handsome in Cascade 220 or any dk wool. The pattern will be available just as soon as I’ve written it in some larger sizes.

Scatter Daisy, by Florence Broadhurst.

I’d not heard of this lady until a beautiful pillow caught my eye in a local design shop. It very quickly forced its way into my life and onto on my couch.

Reading up on her in this fascinating book, Florence Broadhurst: Her Secret & Extraordinary Lives, I discovered a colourful woman who led many lives, a few of which may have been pure invention. She was adventurous and a bit naughty, which makes her a very good read as well as a design inspiration.

Born in a country town in North Australia, she had a career as a starlet stage performer in Asia, opened a fashion house in 1930’s London, and was a painter of classic Australian landscapes before starting her textile business as a last ditch effort to make some money!

Never short of ideas for self promotion, she made quite a splash in Australian society, always good for business. Her design inspirations are varied, a little art nouveau here, Japanese there, Op Art over there.

Butterflies (below) is restrained and timeless.

Others are lavish and exuberant, perfect for celebrity boudoirs, bars and hotel rooms.

An Asian influence is obvious in many.

Her groundbreaking designs languished for 20 years after her death in the 70s. Nowadays they’re available again, produced in Sydney by Signature Prints and sold worldwide.

Japanese Floral (below) is the fabric of my pillow.

Ikeda= love!

Hollow Squares, from the  late-sixties. Dizzying.

What I love most about Florence’s story is that she didn’t start her textile printing business until the age of 60!

This is very good news for any of us who are still making up our minds what we want to be when we grow up.

It seems it’s not necessary to grow up at all.  Like Florence, we can go on re-inventing ourselves and having fun until we run out of steam.