My Sweater Is Blocking Is Blocking*

There are red-letter days: When, as an adolescent, you go out shopping and for lunch with friends for the first time. When you kick ass in an interview and they offer you the job on the spot. When you make a fancy meal for your new boyfriend and it's totally awesome (and then, 5 years later, you get married).

Today is a red-letter day.

Today is the day that I can finally say I have made myself a "vintage", slim-knit, 100% pure cashmere sweater. For some, that might be simply an interesting occurrence. But for me it is a culmination of so many loves: knitting, fitting, cashmere, ultra-soft textiles, an era gone by.

In truth, I finished it yesterday and it's still blocking (drying in shape). Apologies for a horrid blocking photo, but one that shows you that a) I really do wear shearling slippers all the time and b) I seem to be getting a lot of use out of those much-maligned, handmade socks.

What are my final thoughts about the Princess Jumper?

• It's a very nice sweater that shouldn't be too onerous if you don't decide to fuck with the armsyce length.
• I made the 34, though that was designed with the appropriate ease (so says the designer) for a slim-fit on a 36 bust.
• It would have been way too big in the bust if I'd made the 36 - probably the more "accurate" size for my 37.5 inch full bust circumference.
• Once again, if you're narrow, I have to recommend that you go for a minimum of 4 inches of negative ease in the bust.
• The shape of this sweater is beautiful and the sleeves are surprisingly easy to insert (once their length is determined).

About the seaming?

• I recommend that you find some Knit Klips (which are no longer manufactured, but still able to be found on sites like eBay) to facilitate set in sleeve sewing. Apparently they keep everything together with precision and easing is much easier. Can't confirm that yet, but I have bought a packet for the next time.
• I know that many knitters back stitch when they do their final seaming. Gotta say - and it took me 7 hours to finish this thing, so maybe you want to reconsider my advice - but mattress stitching the seams together (vertical i.e. side seams, horizonal i.e. shoulder seams and combination i.e. sleeve curves) creates a beautiful finished product that, due to the thread weaving, has a maximal amount of structural integrity.
• I'm always amazed to read about the unwillingness of knitters to mattress stitch at the end of a project on the basis that it's too fussy or scary or hard. I can assure you that it is fussy - but in a fun way that will appeal to your OCD, it isn't scary - once you make your peace with it and you set up the seams carefully before beginning and it's sure as hell is not hard. If you can knit a freakin' sweater, you are more than up to seaming it well.
• Seriously peeps, there are SO many free online resources to get you through the finishing phase that you will be amazed. If you've been a back-stitcher to date (and I do know there are times when that stitch is the most appropriate one), make this the year that you switch it up.

About the yarn?

• Oh, cashmere, it is a wonder to touch. Alas, 2-ply yarn, knit on US size 1.5 or 2 needles is a challenge. I'm not going to lie.
• Fingering weight projects take too fucking long, IMO. I can assure you, after the 6 weeks I toiled away on this, I'm going for something worsted next :-) Or at least DK.
• The Jade Sapphire 100% cashmere is delicate. It does develop integrity via knitting, but it's very easy to break it with a wan tug. If you are a tight knitter, I don't think this is your best choice.
• Happily, there were no knots in the yarn so I didn't have any mid-knit joins for that reason.
• However, somehow there were so many loose ends, it took me an hour to weave them in. And that was not easy given I was working with soot-coloured yarn having teeny-tiny stitches.
• I recommend this yarn and I think the finished garment will be greatly enhanced for it, but I don't think it's necessarily worth the expense if you knit tightly or don't adore cashmere.

This marks the end of the Gauge the Situation knitting series, in which I discussed the merits and detractors of knitting 5 sweaters in 4 gauges (fingering, sport, DK and worsted).

I do intend to summarize my findings of this experiment - which weight was my fave, which sweater I like most, which I wear most, what I learned etc. But for now, let's just be grateful that I have finally completed a daunting - if utterly educational - task, with some fabulous wearable garments. Is is scary that I can't remember, off hand, what they are??

Here's hoping you can :-)

Today's questions: What was the subject of your last, crafting "red-letter day"? Which weight of yarn do you prefer to work in? Do you always knit sweaters in the same weight?

I'm so hoping that this will dry by tomorrow - it takes a while in the cold - so that I can wear it in the world for the first time. No doubt, photos are to follow. I'm psyched about this one.

*Props to those of you who know this reference on another red-letter day - that in which 30 Rock's last episode will air.

Strong Arming

Lord. This weekend will, no doubt, go down as a cross between Survivor and Project Runway and, seriously, my brain hurts.

Of its 48 hours, I spent a full 24, not crafting (as such), but working out the math that underpins the complicated garments I'm constructing. It was Kristin and geometry and crazy-ass angles from dawn till night.

In truth, it was Kristin and knitters from around the world and S from around the block. Did I mention that I could barely move my head this morning when I awoke to go to work? That I went for an emergency massage?

I wish I could immerse you in my consciousness for a few minutes - like those scenes in creepy sci-fi movies - so that you could feel the jolt of all the things I've learned (or been massively overwhelmed by). I can't begin to tell you all the tales, though I imagine they'll come out as they take word-form.

Briefly, I believe I figured out the sweater sleeve. It looks barely like a sleeve but it basted into the sweater armsyce's very nicely.

Have you ever seen a set in sleeve that looks like this??

I'm working on the second sleeve now. I've sewn the sweater shoulders and will insert the sleeves before sewing up the side seams - after ribbing the neck.

Ah, and then there is the tailored jacket muslin. I wouldn't have imagined that anything could test me more than that freakin' knit sleeve. But that's the beauty of complicated garment-making. There's always something exponentially harder around the corner.

All I can say is, thank the universe for S. Perhaps now is a good time to remind you - though I'm quite sure most PhDs out there couldn't begin to fit a tailored jacket - that she's so freakin' smart, she has a PhD. Honestly, I spent half of the 4 hours that it took to mark the 80 trillion muslin changes onto the paper pattern, simply trying to keep it together. I think it's safe to say that I am a fine fitting apprentice. When I'm not hysterical.

I came up against so many of my challenging qualities this weekend: impatience, hyperness, ignorance, the inability to stop thinking long enough to assimilate new learning. I really must step back before I write more about the jacket muslin experience. It was seminal.

I will tell you that it blew my mind. My shape is SO fascinating :-) and so unique. S has convinced me that next time I will need to make the size 10 (not the 14). I don't think I can wrap my head around anything smaller than the 12, but she's got a point: You can resize a waist and a bust in a snap. Reworking the armscye and sleeve is a fucking production. Really, arms and armsyces - for S and me - are like the leg and hip complexities that torment certain pants-makers. It's all "one tube, fitting into another", requiring maximal range of movement.

I wonder how I will possibly help S to the degree that she's helped me. I mean, I am learning a lot, but I'm learning about managing curves, not angles.

Last night I had a nightmare about how to reflect the jacket muslin changes on the paper pattern to the NUMEROUS underlining, interfacing and lining pieces (that we haven't even touched). Really, it's hard to grasp the wonder and novelty of draping. I'm always worried about the next thing.

Today's question: What's the coolest or hardest or most meaningful craft thing you've learned about recently? You can keep it high-level or dig in. I want to know!

(Almost) Wordless...

...and how often does that happen?

I'm getting somewhere, slowly. At least I think I am. But I cannot write about it because it's too nascent and my brain needs to process the meaning of things. I'm not sure if you get headaches when you think too hard? I actually sense the gears of my neurotransmitters grinding. It's bizarre.

Anyway, here's the (quickly) basted sweater. I'm using it to compare to the altered sleeve as I knit it.

The Net Effect of Changing Length Above The Armscye (When You're Knitting Flat a Bottom-Up Sweater) with Set In Sleeves

You know I'm all about the fit and the fittedness. You may also know I'm making a retro-sweater that's supposed to fit slimly. And you can't help but to know how I'm really short in the waist and particularly from above my breasts/armsyce to the shoulder. 

Princess Jumper and Photo by Susan Crawford

Perhaps, from the pic above, you will agree that the fussy stitch pattern (let me assure you, it's fussy), which starts above the breasts, must be the perfect length or the sweater's gonna look all kinds of amateur. (One risk is that the stitch pattern could encroach towards the full bust in a kind of visual reverse of an empire seam that doesn't actually fit under the bust at the rib cage).

Which leads me to the part of this post wherein I tell you how I - when first I began knitting this - deliberately altered the length above the armsyce on the front and back pieces of this sweater without adequately considering (until I started knitting a sleeve) the shaping alterations it would require in the sleeve cap. Oh my.

Quick info: The sweater calls for an armscye depth of 8.25 inches to the shoulder. My dimensions require 6.75 inches (at the large end). 

Let's start by thanking Gail, the knitter who is metaphorically holding my hand while I figure this out and who also happened to be able to direct me to this shockingly fantastic post, even though I searched via 63 different terms to locate something that might have been half as useful, only to come up with zilch. I warn you. It's a pretty scary article. (Note: You have to understand the Pythagorean Theorum which, let's face it, I can barely spell.)

Very, very briefly, the concept is that:

• The required size and shape of a sleeve cap is entirely - and utterly irritatingly - contingent on the length of the armhole. (Sewists, you know that.) 

• Furthermore, the width of the sleeve (specifically its angle), just below the start of the sleeve cap, is mysteriously related to the shape and depth of the armscye and this is one of the many factors that determines how you shape said sleeve cap. 

• Pivotally, one must determine the angles, altitudes and lengths of the front and back armscye curves and then mathematically reflect them in the shaping of the sleeve cap. The cap is made of concave, moving into convex, curves on either side of a bisecting line (which we can view and calculate as straight edges of triangles, hence Mr. Pythagoras). Until you've calculated one element, you can't determine the other. And till you've determined the other, you can't exactly knit it.

Are you feeling a little overwhelmed? Take a moment to absorb that info, assuming it's never occurred to you either. Then be very glad you're not 3/4 of the way through this sweater having just come to the realization.

This, my friends, is the reason that picking up stitches at the armhole and knitting sleeves in the round (with sleeve cap short rows!) was invented. But it's not the best method when you're working with a vintage design because it doesn't look particularly vintage. Note that the article I've linked to above gives you all kinds of mathy tips to short row when a pattern calls for the flat, sleeve cap method (but you've got to be careful or you'll get a dreaded short-row poof - like you find in a heel or a bust curve).

In truth, aside from my utter confusion, I'm in just about the best position I could be in. Why?

• I've knitted the body in 2 separate pieces (as the pattern calls for) and all of the stitches on the front and back pieces, at the shoulder (this is bottom up, flat knitting) are on stitch holders. (Side note: Due to other math glitches, I appear to have too little length at either side of the back at each shoulder. But I can adjust this easily before moving forward with the sleeve.)

• Mercifully, I figured out I was going to have an issue before I started knitting the sleeve cap on the first sleeve so it's likely that I won't have to rip anything back.

I'm  having difficulty absorbing the complexity of the trigonometry and calculus involved in adjusting the shape and height of my sleeve cap to suit the changes I so innocently made on the front and back pieces. Note: Yeah, I was cavalier, but I did measure the bodice pieces to fit my body. And, after that, I did undertake the significant work to reorg the crazy stitch pattern to reflect the changes I needed to make. Point is, cavalier does not equal lazy (just stupid, in light of the fact that I've already dealt with this situation on a tailored jacket or two).

I'm sorting this out, she says like a deer caught in the headlights, and I will post on the details of my corrective alteration, as soon as I come up with it. (That statement fills me with hope.)

In the meanwhile, have a look at the pretty bodice pieces, such as they are at the moment:

 

Today's questions: Have you ever knit flat sleeves in a bottom up, flat pattern, and determined that you needed to change the length of the sweater above the armscye? How did you deal with the resulting change in sleeve cap shaping i.e. scary math or winging it? How did that work out for you, either way? If you've got any words of encouragement, I'm happy to take them.

I Don't Know About These...

 Hmmm...

 

So, I wore my handmade socks today. And I have to say, I'm not convinced. For starters, they're hideous. I'm trying to get with their variegated-laide but really.

On the plus side, with utterly no trying, the stripes more or less align between the two socks. And they're slim, I'll give them that. They also fit very well and they're extremely warm. I know. Today was -16C.

But I can feel every little waffle-y stitch on the bottom of my feet. Seriously, it's like they're wacky "massage" socks. Only I'm not sure I actually like feeling the stitches of my socks on the bottom of my feet.

And, also, I think I may have mentioned, they're kind of ugly.

Thoughts?

Meet My New Hand Sewing Kit (Or Some of It)

You know, I am not a collector. Scott buys me really nice bottles of wine to keep in the cellar, and I somehow manage to drink them in the month. Someone once referred to my habit of getting rid of August's magazines in July. (What, you get them when they hit the newstand. Read and recycle.) I cannot stand tchotchkes that take up valuable space. Cuz really, that's what I want. Space.

S, fantastically, assisted me in Craigslist-ing my scraps and today some nice lady came to get the bag of them on the porch. (Oh, how FREE I feel. And yet how unwasteful!) Honestly, if it were wartime I'd have done my part.

But I have an ugly secret (no, not the 3 lingerie drawers - those are neither ugly nor a secret!): I cannot resist sewing ephemera. OMG, now that I've found Etsy which, let's face it, is like my own personal, nicely-curated lawn sale, I'm veritably addicted to searching out the whackest olde-time sewing lure evah.

There is something compelling about beautiful, half-full mending cards and old spools of thread that you know have been around since the 1930s. The slightly musty smell of vintage yarn... The colours (mauve, air force blue)... Old needles, when they aren't rusted - hand-stamped! Weird darning patches that are supposed to iron-on but, really, I don't know if one should trust that technology...

Seriously, I could direct you to a zillion pages I have favourited but I don't quite want you to know about them because one day I just might cave and buy that French cashmere mending thread, for quite a lot of money given that it's ancient and I don't actually have any clothing in that colour.

It's been tough keeping things to one mending kit. Note: My darning egg still hasn't arrived and I'm beginning to fear it will not fit. Other note: If you include the vintage button collection, it's 2 mending kits. Sue me.

Here's a little peak (it's not all in there, the mending threads hadn't yet arrived):

I actually found 2 mending cards having thread (more or less) the same colour as 2 sweaters that have holes. Alas, I can't say that all of the properties align. Will the thread be too shiny? Will it matter if it's not adequately stretchy (just for a little hole)? All I can say is that I'm going to have to give it a go cuz these booboo-ed sweaters aren't gonna get any less hole-y while I wait around indefinitely.

Of course, I continue to source new colours and fibres. Perhaps I should start sewing in the palette of my mending kit...

Today's questions: Do you have a mending kit and, if so, what does it contain? A darning egg or mushroom? Vintage threads? What's the box made of? Biscuit-tin? Wood? Wicker? When you use it, do you channel a sassy, take-no-prisoners wartime lass (who wears tweed jackets she's had to reline twice in crochet squares)? Are you good at mending? Do tell!

The Spring Suit: An Update on Muslin 1

Oh, my pretties, this is a serious project. S and I intended to come armed with pre-made muslins and to work out all the kinks, but it didn't go that way. Instead, we spent the better part of 8 hours making and reviewing and pinning our partially-complete muslins 1, observing where markings aligned and where they didn't (even in this beautifully-designed pattern, we found some notch misalignment in both of our sizes when we "walked the pattern*").

Here's what I can say so far:

• We both have finished muslins that, for the most part, align at all of the notch points or which are knowably discrepant at some (but which we've accounted for in terms of overall fit).

• We have the sleeve muslin sewn, but not inserted as first we need to sort out the bodice.

• Intriguingly, though we have very different body types, when first we tried on our finished shells, they fit us both, in broad strokes, very gracefully. Of course, we're going to need to adjust each, but this is a beautifully drafted pattern. 

• I'd tell you that the pattern is drafted for a curvy shape, what with how it practically fit, out of the envelope, in the bust (unheard of for me!) but it also fit S's bust quite elegantly and she has but an inch of difference between her under and full bust dimensions (compared to my 7"). We were both amazed by that. On her the jacket is quite equestrian, IMO. On me it's kind of 50s-lady.

Here are a few pics on the dress form (yeah, yeah, inaccurate, but the muslin doesn't fit me either at this point):

You can see how we've already opened up the princess seam to allow for a bit of extra full bust ease. Note that the amount it opens, on me (narrower and having more projectile breasts than the dress form) is about 0.25" on either side. Not a lot. What we intend to do next is to slash above the HBL (that horizontal line above the bust) to allow the fabric to drop slightly which will account for the extra length I require over the bust...

I have to resew this seam because, as you can see, the pieces do not align. (They did on the other side, intriguingly, so it's likely my sewing that's at fault here.) The seam lines - that black pen on the underside of the pieces, should be matching up.

The waist HBL is totally level (my dress form is a bit askew here) and the waist of the pattern fits beautifully. I've got the centre fronts pinned here.

Waist HBL on the back is also level.

Observe how the waist of the jacket does not sit at my waist (or that of the dress form). I will need to shorten all of the pieces above the waist by 1.25 inches - not as much as I usual...

Adjustments to follow on muslin 1:

• Shorten all pieces at lengthen/shorten line by 1.25".

• Increase full bust at princess seam (the one currently open) by approx 0.25" on each side.

• Slash above the bust to allow the fabric to fall. In the top pic you can see how the HBL (horizontal balance line) is not level. It arches up toward the centre front on each side. Allowing the fabric to fall should mitigate that. In an irony, that means we'll probably add back the 1 inch we've removed above the waist on the front. This particular alteration will be a wedge alteration, unlike the shortening above the waist which is a tuck. Wedge alterations start at a seam (where they're closed) and end at another seam (where they're open) but they aren't even at both sides, like a tuck.

On S's muslin, which is all around 1 size too big as she accidentally ordered the 12-14-16 when she really needs a 10:

• Take in every seam by 0.25".

• Make an SBA at the princes seam. This will likely be the exact opposite of my alteration i.e. we'll subtract fabric at the princess seam and then shorten the bodice above the bust.

• We may or may not require an alteration at the upper back to account for breadth there.

Seriously, that's not a lot for either of us, in the scheme of things - though marking up the muslin and then altering the paper pattern is SO not intuitive for me (aka the most painful and confusing part of this entire process, IMO). Thank goodness for S who will work with me to make the adjustments on the pattern piece from the once-altered muslin. She has a really strong grip on the technical elements.

When we've got the shells working, then we'll insert the sleeves. We've read a variety of reviews of this pattern which indicate that inserting the sleeves can be tricky. In certain instances puckering has ensued. Since I haven't read the sleeve insertion instructions in detail, as yet, I don't know if Claire Schaeffer suggests the bias strip easing method. If not, that might be a way to mitigate challenges. However, if she suggests that method and still people have had issues, we may have to consider altering the shape or rotation of the upper sleeve. Mind you, that's a concern for another post!


*What's walking the pattern? This is simply aligning the edges of the seam allowances (on the paper pattern) of adjoining pattern pieces. For example, your side seams on your actual garment, will need to line up when you sew that seam. Perhaps you take it for granted that this should automatically occur. However, some patterns contain drafting or grading errors.

All you do is stabilize a knowable intersection point of both pieces, one on top of the other, and then move the pattern pieces over one another, to the next intersection point i.e. a notch (noting whether it lines up). Start at the hem, move to the underarm. It's 2 parts engineering, 1 part intuition. Sometimes it doesn't work on the first try so you try again, factoring in ease, maybe sewing up the muslin (which is easier to ease than tear-able paper), and verifying how accurately the pieces come together.