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.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

Polonius, in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

and so said my father, often, ‘tho no scholar of Shakespeare he.

After he and Daphne finally paid off their modest mortgage he revised it to “there’s no better feeling than waking up in the morning knowing you don’t owe anything to anyone.”

That was the old way, to save up for something  you wanted or put it on lay-by until you’d paid it off.

As a teenager I used to buy my yarn ball by ball on layaway at the wool shop in town. You had three months to pick it up. It meant that I could afford to knit with lovely quality wool and I learned to finish my projects in a timely fashion! Thank you, Ballantynes of Christchurch.

In case anyone wants to take advantage of it, (some have already, even a customer in the USA) I instituted this policy on South Seas Knitting. You can pay as you knit.

Knitting needles are like books when it comes to borrowing and lending. Best not to. A few months ago I started making a list of needles I’d lent to friends, but the problem with a list is that I forget where I wrote it.
A set of long, thin metal circulars were missing last week, just when I needed them for a crucial stage in the finishing of my new cardigan. I’d lent them out and taken note . . . . . . somewhere. Thankfully, the borrower remembered.
They arrived back shortly thereafter, accompanied by these lovely yellow roses.

If you’d like to make a doily for your vase of flowers, there’s no better book than Mary Thomas’s Book of Knitting Patterns. She covers doilies of all shapes, plain and lace. You can make them in any yarn, on any size needle, and the possibilities for expressing your creativity are endless. Best of all, you can use bits and bobs from your stash.
My doily is made with hemp, on 4mm needles.

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.

Isn’t is satisfying to make things for your house? You get to enjoy the making, the using, and  you have a daily reminder of all those hours you lovingly stitched something that you’ll have forever.

It used to be my ambition to have a completely home made house.  Not being much good with hammer and nail I’ve scaled that down to having a home made item in each room. At this point I might have reached my goal but that won’t stop me because I’m addicted to making things.

Here are some non-knitted things I made for my garden in Santa Monica. I left them there for the new owner (a twinge of regret permeates these words as I type) and on visits, I walk past it and see those little bits if myself that are still there no matter who the owner is.

These pots were made following an inspirational few days in Barcelona (the plates were already broken – I just couldn’t bear to part with them). My Antonio Gaudi phase.

Pebble pattern on my bedroom patio, surrounded by gardenias. Mmmmm.

Perhaps it’s because the hot summer days disappeared all of a sudden last week, the days shortened and it’s altogether an autumn-ish feeling around here, that I embarked on making my own little bit of sunshine to cover the dull grey tiles in the bathroom.

I’ve always loved rag or hooked rugs and have had it in mind for a long time to make a knitted version. The moment arrived (funny how something that’s been brewing for years decides, for no particular reason, to slide itself onto your knitting needles) so I spent my evenings this week making this colourful  folk art-ish mat while watching episodes of Midsomer Murders, the irresistible modern day Hercule Poirot-style mystery set in an ultra picturesque English village brimming with dozens of typically eccentric characters, and this delicious documentary about Marc Jacobs and Louis Vuitton. Now that’s what I call living!

Please don’t hate me for owning a large stash of the scrumptious, soft Blue Sky Cotton, left over from various projects.  I just can’t stop using this yarn, as much for its softness as its gorgeous colour palette.

For extra sumptuousness I used double strands throughout.

My mat weighs 550g, so you’d need that much yarn to make one the same size. I used seven colours (700g) but you could make up your own colour scheme, perhaps using only 2 or 3 colours.

Here are some  more subdued (but no less beautiful) combinations I’m considering for my next mat.

81-sand & 604-aloe

80-bone & 81-sand

and now, to Mel’s helpful hint of the week, told to me by a Los Angeles gent who seemed to be an expert in these matters:

If you’re trying to sell your house, instead of stashing towels or keeping them in a cupboard, roll a few and put them on display. It gives the visitor (or potential buyer) a feeling that they’ll always be on vacation or at a spa if they buy your house!

P.S. I like the idea of making this mat much bigger with leftover wool and felting it. It would be beautiful in a child’s room or as a hearth rug.

The recipe  for my Folk-ish Mat is over in the free pattern menu.

The versatility of knitting never ceases to excite me. I mean it!

There are still a lot of people (especially here in NZ, sigh) who think of knitting as scratchy wool cardigans and old ladies wearing nylon knee hose. I guess it’s our little secret, then, just what a fertile field knitting really is, and that they don’t really deserve to be on our gift lists.

I started to explore curves and 3-d shaping for knitting when I was working on my book. The Mouse Family, which have shaped bottoms and noses (how else could they sit comfortably let alone hongi?), were a reason to learn properly about short rows.

I recall trying to watch a video showing how to knit the wrap with the knit stitch. You what? It didn’t have stop motion, or even slow motion, so I watched over and over again and still felt like I was fumbling.

I’d learned that shorting the row was the least of it. The big question was, how to hide the wrap and close the hole all at once?

Lately I’ve been working on something that’s double-sided and needs a continual curve, therefore constant short rows on both the knit and purl side. The knit side was a breeze. (You can see my instructions over in the the lessons menu here).

It was the purl wraps that had me stumped. But now I’ve got it, so here it is.

Note: the instructions for wrapping the purl stitch are over in the lessons menu here.

You will have wrapped a purl stitch, turned your work, and knit the following short row.

Now, to purl past the wrap.

1. here it is (below), the little bump you want to hide, seen from the knit side.

2. Purl to the wrapped stitch. The needle points to the wrap you want to purl together with the next stitch.

3. Insert your needle into the BACK of the wrap, from behind. If you already know how to purl through the back of the loop, no problem, but if you don’t here’s  an easy way to see what you’re doing. Turn your work over and insert your working needle into the stitch from the knit side (this is equivalent to inserting it from the back on the purl side).

4. Slide the wrap onto the needle next to the stitch you’re going to purl.

5. Turn your work so that the purl side is facing you. Insert your working needle into both the wrap and the purl stitch and purl them together.

6. Here’s the result,  seen from the knit side. You can’t see the wrap. Hooray!

I’ve been busy re-working that project I took apart last week and have learned two things in the course of an intensive week of knitting:

1. that I’m developing “knitter’s bottom”

2. a way to work wraps on the purl side so that they’re invisible….. more on this next week

In the meantime, my first design for the UK magazine “The Knitter” is coming out this week, in Issue 16.

The Knitter is published monthly and is intended for knitters who like a challenge, although many of the projects are suitable for beginners, too.

I subscribed here and it’s it’s also available at book stores.

I wanted Guinevere’s Gloves to be playful but wearable and used my beloved Koigu KPM in three colours: natural (0), sage (2341), blueberry (2300) and tangerine (1193) .

I love KPM for it’s twist, softness, and above all, it’s range of colours. You can create something and feel like you’ve channeled Missoni’s muse. I even prefer it to KPPPM, its better known hand-painted sister. They’re the same yarn, I just happen to love playing with the semi solids rather than the multis.

I’m now making a pair in a new colourway.