Because I am not particularly well-endowed in the boobage department, I don’t have many garments that scream “HAY TITS!” I mean, my girls are just not conducive to that sort of thing. But one garment that does scream exactly that is my good old soul-eating Lelah.
I wore it today to go bra shopping, as it’s the sort of top that really highlights whether or not a bra is fulfilling its boob-trapping duty. Because of my aforementioned itty bitty titty club membership, I mostly wear sports bras, and have no real bras except for one poor, overworked black strapless. La Senza was having a sale, so off I went.
Since I keep wanting to knit things like Lelah and Coachella, I was on the lookout for strapless bras and halter bras and all those fancy torture device type things. I grabbed a handful of 34Bs and 34As and a few outliers just to be adventurous, a 32B, a 34C, and hit the changerooms.
Of course hardly anything fit. This was not surprising. Bras never fit me properly. What did surprise me was that the one bra that more or less fit was… the 34C. Er. Wait, what?
I got one of the saleswomen to measure me.
Her: Hmm… you’re in-between band sizes.
Me: Of course I am.
Her: You should be… a 32.
Me: I tried a 32 and I couldn’t even get into it.
Her: Yeah, well you’re probably (blah blah something squeeze something I don’t understand). So, 34 then. And let’s see…
*measuring tape around boobs*
Her: Well, you’re measuring as a D…
Me: BWAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! Um, no.
Her: Yeah, okay, I think you should try a 34C.
So there it is. Confirmed. I trudged back to the bins of bras and started acquainting myself with this scary, unfamiliar territory – the C-cup bin.
I used to believe that every woman in the world was a 34B, because that would explain why every store is always sold out of 34Bs. But now I know. Every woman in the world is a 34C. And I loathe all of you. Give me back my bras!
I found the last nude clear-strapped convertible 34C in the store. Not exaggerating. It was buried in a bin instead of hanging on the wall with the others. It was missing a strap and inserts, which a saleswomen kindly stole from a 36B for me. You’ve really got to scavenge for those 34Cs. I also scored a convertible racerback bra and a regular push-up.
All three bras yell “HAY TITS”, and quite loudly too. I may as well enjoy my newfound C-cups, at least until I go to a proper bra shop and they declare me a 36A and scoff at how mucky La Senza’s sizing is.
Now, all of this is tangentially related to knitting because I’m seeking out bras for my deliciously skanky knits and all, but here is some real knitting content:
Fifi has been started! That pic was from a couple of days ago; it’s now sitting on scrap yarn to see if it’s the right size for splitting off the sleeves, and also so that I could yoink the 24″ circ cord to start Coachella. I am loving the pattern, and of course the delicious Rowan Calmer. It looks crazy complex, but it’s so easy! Assuming that the pattern doesn’t suddenly become unintelligible, I highly recommend it.
Hooray for knits that do not make me want to stab things (ahem, Maddy-silk-thing-whatever, I am talking to you).
And no, Fifi is not supposed to have a ribbon ’round its neck. But I put one there. Because I can.
That’s it. I give up.
I had no intention of knitting Coachella when I looked through the new Knitty. I thought it was cute, and the construction was neat, but it just wasn’t my style. So I acknowledged its cuteness and went back to pondering yarn subs for Zinzin.
But then I saw this Coachella and it was all over. So I give up, and I’m going to make one.
Of course I had no yarn for it. I am not a stasher; I generally buy yarn only if I have a project in mind (though I will make exceptions for such yummies as Mini Maiden). I hadn’t yet decided what sort of tank to make with my new Misti Cotton, and pondered that as a sub. Nice drape, not too heavy, it could work. But the gauge was larger. And since I plan to knit the XS – going on my theory that I should knit one size smaller than the size I actually should be – I can’t do the trick where you knit a size down with a larger gauge and it all evens out. I just didn’t feel like reworking the pattern. For once I am feeling exceptionally lazy and want to just follow a pattern as written. This is terribly out of character for me; I fully expect to get halfway through and start inappropriately adding lace or buttons or neon green fun fur or something.
I’m just kidding. I would never add buttons.
Anyway, I was in Toronto again yesterday, and wanted to stop by Romni to pick up another skein of Misti Cotton, because I think my plan to get a tank top out of two skeins was wildly optimistic. And while there, I found this:
100% tussah silk, Romni’s house brand, so it wasn’t too pricey. About the same size and gauge as the recommended Berroco Suede (which I had no intention of using, because suede yarn scares me. I know it’s not actually suede. I don’t care), with a similar ribbon-like construction. I know, I know, I have complained about the impracticality of 100% silk yarn and I never learn, do I. But this is the rare garment where I think it will actually be suitable. I reserve the right to change my mind after beginning to knit, and to swear a lot. (By the way, my blog is apparently rated NC-17, no doubt due to my filthy, filthy mouth. I am not particularly surprised.)
On the topic of silk and cursing, I have decided on a name for the silk thing. It will be called Maddy.
Officially, it is named after a doll I had as a child. (What kind of child names their doll Maddy?) The doll even had red hair, so it would match the top nicely, if for some reason I wanted a doll-matching top, which I do not. I have no idea what happened to that doll. But I sure loved it as a kid. (Seriously, Maddy? Why not Madeline? What the hell was wrong with my child-brain? Maddy. Gah.)
Unofficially, it is named that way because three letters of its name accurately describe my state of mind when working on the garment.
XXX HOTT BARELY LEGAL YARN PORN XXX
I happened to be in Toronto today, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to go yarn shopping. I didn’t get much. I’d like to say that’s because of my massive willpower, but no, it’s because of the fact that I’m crap ass broke.
First I went to Romni to exchange my skein of Cotton Fleece left over from Rusted Root. If you’ve ever been there, you’d think it would be easy to find something, anything to get. But they were out of the book I wanted (that Barbara Walker one about knitting top-down sweaters), and I wandered around, fondled yarn, but nothing screamed “buy me”. Let me clarify that, plenty of things screamed “buy me”, but I usually had to scream back “I can’t afford you”.
What finally caught my eye was some Misti Cotton:
I know nothing about this yarn, so if it sucks, I don’t want to hear about it. It is soooo soft and has a lovely sheen, and I think I can get a little tank top out of two skeins. Weeee!
That’s all I got at Romni, because I knew I wanted a little treat from Lettuce Knit and thus had to conserve my limited funds…
Mini Maiden! Finally! I’ve been coveting it for a while now. I have no idea what I’m going to make with it – something lacy, for sure, but what? I suspect the colourway is Paris. Dear Fleece Artist/Handmaiden: MARK YOUR DAMN COLOURWAYS. I know no two skeins are exactly alike, but they have consistent general colour schemes, so just frickin’ mark them so that when I like one, I know what it is and can buy it again! Graaaaaah! Graaaaaaaaaaah! Rant rant rant.
This is my attempt to branch out a bit, colour-wise, and knit something that isn’t red, or coral, or a corally sort of peach, or that shade of orange that’s halfway between red and coral, or red with black trim, or coral with red trim. You’ve seen my closet. Well, if you haven’t, here it is again:
You see? Ridiculous. I am proud to say that I put down the bright coral Misti Cotton in favour of that lovely beige. Which, given the closet pic, is kind of like ordering a diet cola with your cheeseburger, but it’s a start.
Maybe the silk thing will start behaving now that there are equally yummy yarns around to challenge its silky silkiness. (And maybe I should take Webbo’s very good advice and take a break from the silk thing, before I go completely mad, as opposed to my current state of “slightly, but quite tolerably, mad”.)
Silkiest bunch of silk that ever silked…
This is the top that never ends…
Yes it goes on and on my friends…
Some people started knitting it not knowing what it was
And now continue knitting it forever just because…
It is taking forever plus fifteen minutes, it looks like hot buttered ass and it’s pissing me off. Okay, it looks like shiny, silky ass, which is marginally better, but still. I like the pattern. Well, the non-pattern. The pattern in my head, which I have managed to write up about 3% of. I am just kind of wishing that I made it in some nice, cheap, mercerized cotton. Not only would it probably look better, but if it didn’t, I wouldn’t care, because it was cheap!
I can’t even take a proper picture because the bottom is crammed onto a 24″ circ, but I tried:
I’m telling myself to do 1 repeat of the lace pattern (8 rows) every day, time permitting. Otherwise I think I would ball it up and throw it in the yarn bin, and stick my fingers in my ears and hum whenever I was forced to remember its existence.
4 repeats in, at least 4 more to go, at which point I’ll see whether it’s long enough. It won’t be, of course, because the universe hates me. Lousy stinking universe.
But damn if it isn’t kind of pretty, in all its hotbutteredassiness…
Noooo. I will stand firm. I will not be seduced by its silky silk silkiness. YOU WON’T TAKE ME ALIVE, FOUL YARNY TEMPTRESS.
I am clearly going mad.
I’ve been rereading my Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy books lately (and relistening to the radio series, and getting the Krikkit song stuck in my head for days, driving me mad, and OH GOD I AM A NERD). I have also been cursing my knitting.
The Fake-astanje Cardigan has been relegated to the yarn bin because it’s freaking June and I will knit summery things or die trying, dammit. Also because I don’t feel like knitting sleeves. The silk thing is pissing me off because it’s not perfect, and also because it doesn’t have a name yet. I don’t understand why inanimate objects won’t take some initiative and name themselves.
But never mind.
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy presents the concept of a recipriversexcluson, which is a number that is defined as being anything but itself. Got it?
I’m not going to say that there is no purpose in gauge swatches. There is, but not the purpose one would expect. I’ve decided that my swatched gauge measurement is a recipriversexcluson. So it does give me some information, which is that whatever I think my gauge is, is exactly what it isn’t.
(No, I do not have a 27″ bust. This yarn grows a LOT after washing/blocking.)
I know that my gauge changes a bit between knitting flat and in the round, and I’m pretty sure I factored that in when I did all my fancy gauge math, so I can only assume that I am being foiled by Bistromathics. Which is very strange, given that I am not in a restaurant, and neither is the little notebook in which I wrote down my gauge info.
Another safe assumption would be that I should quit rereading my Hitchhiker’s books.
The silk thing is frustrating me, it really is. Apart from two of the skeins of yarn being completely different colours (can you tell in the pictures? If you can, I don’t want to hear about it LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU), and the total impracticality of 100% silk yarn (but it’s so purty), and the fact that I had to tink back in one little section three times because I used the wrong increase, then went back and did the right increase, then realized that the right increase was actually the wrong increase and I’d had it right in the first place, I… forget what I was going to say.
No, wait. The gauge stuff. Which is now erring on the side of “too big”, and so help me, I am going to have to cut a bitch if this thing is too big. Because that is the issue that plagues every damn knit garment I attempt, and I thought I finally had a good solid theory on sizing, which is “make it way too small, and it will somehow fit in the end”. I can only hope that I overestimated how much the yarn will grow, and… it will somehow fit in the end. Oy.
It is nice to be past the stockinette and well into the interesting bit, though.
The long stockinette nightmare is (almost) over!
I really do barf on stockinette a lot in this blog. It’s just that it’s… not very interesting. Hullo, I’m Captain Obvious, nice to meet you.
But anyway…
I’ve gotten a little farther since that picture was taken, and just started the waist decreases. And when those are done, it means I get to start the interesting bit! You can sort of see it in the sketch:
The darker bits are the lace panels. Three of them; I don’t think I’m going to put one in the back. Or maybe I will. I do change my mind often about these things. The important thing is that they’re not stockinette. Well, there are stockinette triangles in there, but that’s all right. A little bit of stockinette is a pleasant break, a lot of stockinette is mind-numbingly, eye-stabbingly boring.
I need a name for this damn top. Everybody makes up cute names for their original designs, and I am not good with the cute names. The Silk Thing That Cost Too Damn Much And Will Probably Stretch Out Of Shape After Two Wears But Fuck It, I Don’t Care is much too long, and not very catchy, and not at all cute.
On a “screw you, stockinette” note, I’m all ready for my next project.
That’s Fifi, by French Girl. I nominated it for the next Sexy Knitters Club KAL and it looks like it’s going to get picked, so hurrah, I’ll have other people to knit it with. Look at all those delicious cables and ribby things and other bits that are definitely not plain stockinette. Weeee!
Whew. Pattern for the Vicious Gnauga Backpack is finally written up, and here it is.
I decided to add an entire pattern section, thinking that maybe it will nudge me to write up more patterns. Right now only the backpack is there, but I’m going to move over the Instant Gratification Scarf pattern, and hopefully write up that damn monster hat pattern soon. Look at me, I’m a designer! Except, I’m totally not.
I have a new pattern brewing in my head, but it requires a skein of Handmaiden Mini Maiden, which I do not have. I am hoping one will magically appear if I close my eyes for awhile and then open them and look around, but so far nothing has happened. I suppose I’ll actually have to purchase one. The universe is so cruel.
I made the cardigan bottom stop curling. Without redoing the button bands.
Don’t ask how I did it.
I need a drink.
I’ll get you, stockinette, and your little (curling) dog too.
I’ve gone back to the wool cardigan. In June. I know.
I went with modified (of course) Little Arrowhead Lace for the black section. It worked out pretty well, except that the bottom isn’t scalloping like I thought it would. I think it would scallop if it wasn’t busy CURLING LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. (Do motherfuckers curl? I don’t know. But I needed a very strong word because it is PISSING ME OFF. FEAR THE WRATH OF MY ALL-CAPS SEMI-PROFANITIES.) I knew it was going to curl, it’s stockinette-based lace and there are a couple rows of plain stockinette at the bottom, I just didn’t think it was going to curl this much. It’s similar to the fishtail lace I used for Lelah and that doesn’t curl much.
I could rip, but I’m not going to, mostly because I went and knitted on the (button-less) button bands, so I’d have to rip those too. And I also wove in all the ends, and I don’t feel like doing that again either. Maybe blocking will fix it. Maybe I’ll add beads at the bottom to weigh it down. I mean, to make it look pretty. Shhhh.
(And no, the button bands are not uneven, even though one looks thinner in the picture. I know this because I looked at the picture, went OH CRAP WHAT DID I DO NOW, double checked the button bands, and was reassured that it was just a weird picture angle or something. Because they are the same size. I maintain that my sucking is restricted to sewing. Well, sewing and estimating how much stockinette-based lace will curl.)
So that’s the Fake-astanje Cardigan status. It just needs sleeves now. I don’t actually know how to knit long sleeves, but whatever, I’ll figure it out.
I’m still working on the as-yet-nameless silk thing, but right now I’m on the plain stockinette section. And the only thing more boring than knitting round after round of stockinette is blogging about it.
It’s done!
Pattern: my own, I am sloooowly writing it up here’s the pattern link, finally
Yarn: 2 balls Bernat Softee Chunky in Black, 4 balls Phentex Fashion Nine in Black, small amount of Patons Classic Wool in Winter White
Needles: size 11, size 6
The monster is the Vicious Gnauga from Kingdom of Loathing.
Isn’t it cute? And mean-looking? And fuzzy and cute? Clearly it had to be made into a knitted backpack. It’s only logical.
I had plenty more sewing mishaps while finishing it, of course. I CANNOT SEW FOR CRAP. I really can’t. I used to be able to, but I guess I’ve forgotten how. Plus, you try to sew things to thick furry fabric where you can’t see what you’re doing because the fur eats up your stitches. You’ll probably do better than me, but that doesn’t take much.
I sewed the straps on crooked, I sewed the pocket on (crooked) and in the process accidentally stitched the straps down to the middle of the bag. I know, right?
The stupid, stupid pocket that is now not sewed to the straps:
The stupid, stupid straps that are now not sewed to the pocket, and the relatively non-stupid drawstring:
And yeah, slowly writing up the pattern. I finished this on Friday evening, I had the whole weekend to write up the pattern before I blogged the FO, and I didn’t. I put the “half” in “half-assed”. (I also put the “ass” in “half-assed”, thanks to both my sewing “skills” and my ample posterior.) But it will be written up, and posted, and if you decide to make one I really hope you are better at sewing than I am. Which, again, won’t take much.
What’s in the bag?
Why, it’s a whole crapload of Rowan Calmer! Yum.
Now that yarn is for a project that will require no sewing whatsoever. Hurrah!
