The Most Beautiful Ugly Sweater

A journey of eighteen inches begins with a single row.
My first people-sized sweater project loomed before me like a climb up the stairs of a lighthouse. However, I cherished the mental image I held of my lovely daughter attired in a warm and pretty sweater I had created just for her, and I persevered.

The hem ribbing was completed quickly; confidence was high. With unflagging enthusiasm I began the long journey up the 18" of the sweater's back section.

Even a rookie can have a good idea.
Now, I am the first to admit that I committed many rookie mistakes (I mean, learning opportunities) with this sweater, but there was one thing that I thought of doing all by myself that saved me a lot of trouble. I kept track of how many rows I knitted for the back so that I could knit the front exactly the same length. A simple tally sheet is all it took. This is such an efficient trick that I am continually surprised that I have never seen it suggested in any book on knitting techniques and timesavers. By matching the sections by number of rows, I avoided relying on measuring, which always seems to give me no more than a possible length range, depending on how much I inadvertently stretch the piece as I smooth it.

The calendar pages flip...
Waiting through karate classes, baseball games, end-of-year talent show rehearsals, and swimming classes, I doggedly worked on the sweater. Did stockinette stitch become tedious? Occasionally, but mostly I was reassured by its repetitiveness. Did I grow weary of the color? Very quickly. Did I buy a size 8 circular needle and knit back and forth with it for a while, just to shake things up? Yes, but I have always been one for the wild side of life. Was I gratified when someone would ask me what I was doing and I could reply not just that I was knitting, but that I was knitting a sweater for my daughter? Always. I attempted to convert many non-knitters, assuring all who showed a glimmer of interest that it was not at all difficult and in fact, was extremely enjoyable. Puzzlement and disbelief were the usual responses. Sometimes, all you can do is plant the seed.

Yarn Girls, I love you!
Continuing to divide my free time between knitting and reading about knitting, I chanced upon what I still consider to be the best book a novice sweater knitter could read: The Yarn Girls' Guide to Simple Knits. For those who may not know, the Yarn Girls are Julie Carles and Jordana Jacobs, owners of the New York City knitting store the Yarn Company. They are also the authors of a growing number of common-sense, beautifully photographed knitting books. Their "Step-By-Step Guide to Shaping the Crewneck" gives row by row directions that elucidate what other knitting books obfuscate. Their simple and clear explanations of sewing-up techniques are logical; their diagrams are readable.

Their "Step-By-Step Guide to Shaping the Armholes" inspired me to believe that one day I could graduate from dropped shoulders to better-fitting set-in-sleeve styles. In fact, I did this with my very next project. I will be eternally grateful to the Yarn Girls for providing some essential scaffolding.

A little tight, a little short.
Carefully following the guide's directions and illustrations, I joined back, front, and sleeve sections into an actual sweater. Magic. Just as a mother sees nothing but perfection personified in her squalling newborn child, I was blind to the holes around the picked-up neckband stitches and the lumpy seams. My newly completed sweater was beautiful.

The moment of truth came as my daughter tried on the sweater for the first time (in her air-conditioned room, as it was now August). Who knew a 10-year-old could grow so much in 7 months?

W.I.P.

Did I complete my sleeve cap? Almost. I have only about a dozen quickly diminishing rows to go, which I hope to finish during my daughter's violin lesson today.

What does theoretical physics have to do with knitting?

Richard Feynman, professor of physics at Caltech and winner of the Nobel Prize, was never afraid to explore new fields. He took drawing classes, joined a Brazilian samba band, and became an autodidactic safecracker, among other notable adventures. His refusal to meet the expectations of people with firm ideas about how a scientist should behave allowed him to have a great deal of fun, and may have contributed to his work in unfathomable ways. I find his entertaining biographies to be models of how to become more creative through taking risks.

Purls of Wisdom

From Stephanie Pearl-McPhee Casts Off: The Yarn Harlot's Guide to the Land of Knitting: "Knitting...can transform lives, open doors, and teach you new things...and is every bit as transformative as any other journey of learning. "

Tomorrow:

• Lessons learned from my first ugly sweater
• The second ugly sweater: definitely not orange!
• Will that sleeve cap be finished?

My First Ugly Sweater

"I'm just breathing!"
Still giddy from the qualified success of Sam's sweater, I dragged my daughter off to the l.y.s. during Christmas vacation week to choose yarn for my next project. My daughter was 10 years old at the time, still young enough to go shopping with Mom without emitting that impatient exhalation that angries up my blood so often these days. The next sweater would be made in her size, in a color of her choosing.

Simple sweaters are best.
Not yet daring to venture into the heady realm of set-in sleeves, it was to be a drop-shoulder, stockinette stitch crewneck with 2x2 ribbing at hem, cuffs, and neckband.

Surprisingly, she gravitated toward a yarn that did not nauseate me--"Coral Gables." From a distance it was a soft orange, but upon closer scrutiny strands of fuschia and yellow were evident. We were both enchanted. It was acrylic, which was fine with me, since the label also proclaimed it was machine washable and dryable. (I have no fiber snobbery; I will knit with anything as long as it's soft.) Content in my ignorance of dye lots or yardage requirements, I gathered up 3 thick, loaf-shaped skeins, which seemed like it should be enough to knit any normal sweater.

Even though the label recommended size 10 1/2 needles to achieve 14 sts over 4", I somehow took a fancy that this would produce too flimsy a fabric. Well, maybe I just wanted to buy new needles. I decided on size 8, which happened to only come in electric metallic blue. I didn't even consider how jarring this would be flashing through orange yarn...row after row...week after week...as it would turn out, month after month.

With a smugness I can only shake my head at now, I knitted a gauge swatch, measured, calculated, and cast on.

W.I.P.
Right sleeve sewn to shoulder, much better length than left sleeve. Like Superman reversing the Earth's rotation to turn back time and revivify Lois Lane, I quickly removed the left sleeve and frogged the sleeve cap, yanking length after length of wool with determination. Keeping my wits firmly about me as I erased the final offending rows, my yanking slowed to a cautious tinking as I placed live stitches on the needle. Breathing a sigh of relief after counting the stitches twice, just to make sure none had been lost, I began to reknit the sleeve cap.

Purls of Wisdom
From Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitting Without Tears:
"Properly practiced, knitting soothes the troubled spirit, and it doesn't hurt the untroubled spirit either."

Tomorrow:

• More about my first ugly sweater
• How the Yarn Girls inspired me
• Why Richard Feynman is my favorite theoretical physicist
• Will I have finished my sleeve cap?

First, Clothe the Teddy Bears

Starting Small
The first sweater I attempted to knit was for my very special friend, Sam. Sam is a teddy bear whose wardrobe was limited to a satin ribbon bow tie, and his diminutive size and accommodating forbearance made him the perfect model for my first effort. Having no "measurements from a well-fitting sweater" to base my pattern on, I slipped a tape measure around the stoutest section of Sam's tummy, took a wild guess at gauge, and cast on 28 stitches.

Thank you, Nanny.
I had found several balls of unlabeled navy yarn in the stash I inherited from my grandmother, and this along with a skein of some very thick white and denim marled acrylic promised to become a garment suitable in color and style to complement Sam's mahogany fur and pensive nature.

As for needles, I used the size 10 1/2 aluminum straights that had seen me through my recent scarves, hats, and cats. It's easy to choose when you only have one pair.

Are armhole openings mandatory?
I had been poring over patterns detailing sweater construction, but being weak in the spatial relations department, I couldn't properly visualize how the pieces fit together. I knew that it was time to try it out with my own hands.

The sweater back was no problem--4 rows of double rib and 4 rows of stockinette in navy, a thick stripe of the lighter color, 4 more rows of navy, and bind off. It was so simple it could have been a bedspread for Barbie's ski chalet.

Next, I knitted the sleeves. Only 2 rows of navy ribbing and 2 rows of navy stockinette before changing colors. (Sam has typical stubby bear arms.) After joining the light blue, I increased at each end of every right side row 3 times. The only increase I knew was knitting into the front and back of the stitch, and I didn't understand the importance of doing increases 1 or 2 stitches from the edge. I also didn't know any sewing up techniques, so my bumpy edges were of no consequence.

Work same as back until...
Saving the most confusing part for last, I finally started the sweater front. Why does every sweater pattern word the front neck shaping instructions the same? "Working both sides at the same time..." This had me completely confounded. How could I work both sides at once? My solution to this conundrum was to knit one side, cut the yarn, and rejoin it at the other side of the neck opening in order to knit the rest of the row for the opposite neck edge.

Sure, it was sloppy and left me with a ridiculous number of ends to weave in, but Sam wouldn't mind a little lumpiness around his collar, and since I was knitting this at around 11:45 pm on New Year's Eve with only my husband, 2 sleepy children, and a variety of pets nearby, non-knitters all, I had no one to show me how to do it properly. Doing it wrong was the only way for me to learn. The absurdity of the approach I tried made me realize that this method was probably not what all the authors of these instructions had in mind.

Excellence is an Attitude
Clumsily, I sewed the pieces together and slipped my first sweater over Sam's head. With a little stretching over the biceps and a little bunching around the neck, it fit beautifully. I was simultaneously embarassed at my naivete and childishly proud of my handiness.

I was also determined not to repeat the same mistakes on my next sweater, vowing to commit a fresh batch of blunders next time and thus, learn even more.

W.I. P.
Right sleeve complete, waiting to be sewn to right shoulder to test length. I've never knit 2 sleeves different lengths before, but I've learned (the hard way, of course) to try on my projects at every possible intermediate stage. Also, I like this sweater enough that I can tolerate the idea of needing to re-knit part of a sleeve to increase the chances that it will be wearable.

I find that sleeve caps are one of the most rewarding parts of sweaters, anyway. After so much uphill work for the sleeve to become wide enough, binding off and decreasing continually is like sledding down a not-too-precipitous hill with a soft snow bank in sight at the bottom.

Purls of Wisdom
From Barbara Walker's introduction to A Treasury of Knitting Patterns:
"There is something in every human soul which seeks to create a thing of beauty, given any sort of opportunity and materials to do so."

Welcome!

I've been knitting sweaters for about 3 years now, and it's been a fascinating journey. Not only have I gained technical sweater-knitting skills, I have also learned to have more patience, persistence, and hope. If you are also a knitter, perhaps you are in one of the following "stages of knitting development":

• the only projects you have made are scarves


• you have only used garter or stockinette stitch


• you find sweater patterns intimidating as they seem to assume you have previous experience knitting sweaters


• you are reluctant to commit to knitting a sweater because it is such a long-term, high-risk project

I was in your shoes. I loved to knit and I love a challenge, but after months of making scarves with stripes and lace (which I attempted because I didn't know it was supposed to be difficult) and going on a brief jag of making stuffed stockinette stitch cats, I realized that I would never be satisfied until I learned to knit sweaters.

Knitting a sweater from start to finish was my knitting ideal. It was the epitome of knitting accomplishments, sure to bring me joy, warmth, and admiration.

I headed to the library and came home with half a dozen books of sweater patterns that were all much too difficult for me. Matching increases and decreases? Center neck bind-0ff? Mattress stitch? It was all gibberish to me. So I headed back to the library and found a few more elementary books, and I kept reading until it all began to make sense.

I've continued reading and re-reading knitting books, and I've kept knitting sweaters and learning the whole time. The rules I've followed are:

1. I never knit a sweater exactly as the pattern dictates. I haven't done this intentionally--I just always seem to need longer sleeves or a wider neck opening. Also, I've never used the recommended yarn. I make affordable substitutions.


2. I always completely finish making up my w.i.p before casting on for the next one. As tempting as it is to start a new project while the previous sweater is still in pieces in a plastic bag in the closet, I realized that I would learn more by completing and trying on each sweater before starting a new one. (There have been 2 excusable exceptions to this rule.) This rule does not, however, stop me from planning and making lists of all the stitch patterns, colors, and styles I want to use in future projects.

W.I.P.

My current w.i.p. is a beige wool sampler sweater displaying a variety of stitch patterns on the front and back and a simple pattern of purl dots on the sleeves. Both shoulders are sewn together, the neckband is complete, and the left sleeve is sewn to the shoulder. However, after trying it on at this stage, I observed that this sleeve is too long. (Sleeve length is always a tricky issue for me.) I plan to knit the right sleeve about an inch shorter, sew it to the right shoulder, and as long as this looks better, I'll remove the left sleeve, frog the sleeve cap and the extra rows, and re-knit it to match the right sleeve.

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