Misconceptions of Knitting

The Bad Astronomy site has a section on misconceptions of astronomy. Since this section of my site was somewhat inspired by Bad Astronomy (I'm meaner.), I decided to mimic its format in that regard as well. Thusly, akin to Bad Astronomy's section on misconceptions of astronomy, this page features misconceptions of knitting by knitters and non-knitters alike.

First I'll discuss misconceptions of knitting by people who don't knit. Usually these beliefs are furthered by the media. Think about Grandma in Sylvester and Tweety or Molly Weasley in Harry Potter. Knitters are portrayed as women in their forties at least, knitting sweaters (possibly for grandchildren), and their knitting is inevitably bad. Really, you'd think a woman with time on her hands and grandchildren to dote on would have time to improve her knitting and make sure she gave her grandchildren something presentable. Regrettably, there's all too much real life evidence of the contrary for me to really complain about that. I saw a horrible sweater online the other day that almost made it to the Bad Knitting section, but then I saw that it was featured as part of a tribute to the blogger's recently deceased and much beloved grandmother, and I couldn't mock that. I'll just have to find an older picture of the same sweater from when the grandmother was still alive. Anyway, I'm sure you get the idea about most popular misconceptions of knitting.

Knitters' own misconceptions of knitting, however, are not so broad or obvious. Many knitters, like the grandmothers mentioned above, are unadventurous and never design their own patterns or try to knit anything that didn't look like it came out of a catalog from the seventies. Without too much work, you can easily design a sleek, fitted sweater or lacy scarf that gets you compliments. On the other end of the spectrum, we have young knitters who knit ugly accessories with uglier novelty yarns.

Without further ado, I'll begin.

Popular Misconceptions of Knitting

First I will deal with popular misconceptions of knitting. I am basing the following off comments I've received on my knitting and knitting I see on TV.

Knit vs. Crochet

I will begin by pointing out the difference between knit and crochet. They are NOT synonymous. Knitting is worked with two needles; crochet is worked with a single hook. They create different fabrics. Crochet is faster and uses more yarn; knitting, while more time-consuming, uses less yarn and creates a smoother, more even fabric. This is why I do not know how to crochet; I dislike the fabric.

Knitting	Crochet

I also dislike it when people think I'm crocheting when I'm knitting. It's easy enough to tell the difference, folks; look for (at least) two needles or a single hook. Sometimes knitters use sets of four or five double pointed needles or circular needles, which is a whole other story. Anyway, knitting needles hold a whole row of live stitches at once, while crochet works with only one stitch at a time.

Knitting Needles	Crochet Hooks

Stage Knitting

Fake knitting (the kind you see when a TV character is supposed to be knitting, but the actress clearly does not know how to knit) drives me INSANE. Why even have a character knit if all she does is sit there and wrap the yarn around the needle (usually not even the working needle), remove it, and repeat? Even viewers who aren't real knitters can tell that the knitting is not producing any real stitches. For God's sake, producers, leave fake knitting off camera.

On that topic, why is it that fake knitters always use the same size 8 straight needles and never need tools like cable needles, tape measures, or scissors? Why are they always knitting the backs of sweaters, halfway completed? Why do they never create anything with any shaping? Why do they never make scarves or socks or hats? Why are there never any loose ends dangling? There's a scene in Last of the Summer Wine that exemplifies this.

Knitting takes time.

Let me say this again. Knitting. Is not. Fast. Even a very fast knitter cannot whip out a sweater inside a week, not unless the yarn is ridiculously bulky, and I can guarantee you that sweater isn't something you'd ever wear in public. Not unless you want to end up on this page, of course. Anyway, it annoys the hell out of me when I see characters on TV giving sweaters to people they met under a week ago. "I made this just for you!" See also this episode of Just Shoot Me. Yeah, what are you, psychic? Two months ago you knew we were going to meet and set to work? Please. Even a basic pair of socks or a plain hat takes two or three days, and that's if you have plenty of time on your hands. When I was working two jobs in the fall of 2008, I started knitting an Obama sweater in September and didn't finish until Inauguration Day. Having said that, I made my dark green ribbed sweater in about two weeks during the Christmas break of my senior year at UT.

To rephrase, there are time frames you must allow for knitwear. Here is a chart roughly outlining how long it took me to make my last few projects:

Project	Time Started	Time Working	Time Completed
Obama Sweater	early September	I would knit a few rows at lunch every day at Linens 'N Things. I finished the back and front, but the sleeves had to wait while I worked on Dom's blanket and the Pickle hat. Finally, I had to rip out and redo the collar several times.	Inauguration Day
Dom's Blanket	mid September	Blankets are big, and even with two bulky strands held together on large needles, it takes a while to finish one. I couldn't work more than a couple of inches a day on this blanket. When it was nearly finished, I saw that I'd messed up two stitches near the bottom, and I had to unravel those two all the way down, fix them, and then rework them all the way back up. It took a couple of days to get it right.	early January
Pickle Hat	December 22nd	I got paid $35 to make a hat for someone to give his girlfriend (nicknamed Pickle; I didn't ask why) for Christmas. Unfortunately, he asked me on December 21st. I bought the yarn and knit most of the hat the next day (staying up late) and then stayed up almost all night on the 23rd to finish it. (Of course I did lose an hour or so because I had a sinus infection and my sinuses appeared to be exploding, and I couldn't knit while wiping my nose constantly.) But I finally finished it and then got about three hours of sleep the night before I worked in the mall on Christmas Eve.	December 23rd
Basic Mittens	March 11th	I lost my winter gloves and decided to knit a pair of cute red mittens. I wanted them done in time to see my friend Dom's show on the 14th. I just barely made it since I had to redo a bit above the cuff on one and had problems with the thumb gusset on the other one.	March 13th
Basic Socks	early April	I worked a couple of shows at the Erwin Center and brought my yarn and needles with me. I worked a lot of the leg of one while sitting on the loading dock. The rest of the socks didn't get completed till at least a week later, after I'd caught up on sleep.	mid April
Dead Kennedys Shirt	late February	The back of this one went fairly quickly, because I remember having the logo on the front halfway finished when I showed it to Kirston at the end of March.	mid April
Kirston's Socks	May 21st	I wanted to give Kirston a pair of socks to take with him on tour since, though the tour is in June, it gets a bit cool at night up north. Even though the socks were bigger than I'm used to making, I whipped them out really quickly since, like with the Pickle hat, I was on a deadline.	May 24th

You see what I mean? Little projects like hats, mittens, and socks, take three days to make. Maybe I'm just a slow knitter, but I'm telling you, no one can knock out a sweater in just a few days.

Now. Moving on . . .

Misconceptions of Knitting Among Knitters

As I mentioned above, even people who have been knitting for a while have some strange ideas about knitting. Most of these ideas result in projects worthy of being featured in Bad Knitting.

Check your goddam mother fucking gauge!

First, as I abundantly mentioned in my rant about the bad Compo hat, I loathe people who don't bother to check the gauge on their patterns. Gauge, for the uninitiated, means how many stitches per inch you need to knit to ensure a project turns out a certain size. If there are too many stitches per inch it will be too small; if there are too few stitches per inch it will be too big. It doesn't take all that long to make a small swatch, but some people just don't bother. I hate that. Especially when they get halfway through the project, realize the gauge is wrong, and then finish it anyway. WTF. I have a cardigan that I was working on and then set aside because I realized it was too long. I know it will suck, but I am going to rip out and redo the entire thing because I will NOT wear a cardigan that hangs halfway to my knees.

That is why you check the gauge and try it on as you go. Or at the very least use a damn measuring tape. Now, most of that blog's knitting is quite good. It is, however, a classic example of the kind of knitting blogs I can't stand due to an oversaturation of nearly identical images and walls of irrelevant text. Having said that, she has some sewing stuff on there which is well above my level of skill.

Along with making sure the gauge is right, I really wish other knitters would make sure they checked to make sure their yarn is all from the same dye lot, or (failing that) at least as close as possible . . . and use the right size needles . . . and use the right yarn weight.

Increases and Decreases

Another thing I see in other people's knitting patterns is people not working increases or decreases properly. For the last fucking time, people, "slip, slip, knit" slants to the LEFT and should be placed on the garment's own left (at the beginning of a row); "knit two together" slants to the RIGHT and should be placed on the garment's own right (at the end of a row).

On that tangent, I hate the overuse—or actually, any use at all—of "make one," also known as a raised increase. I hate it. It leaves a hole. Why would you do that when you could work a lifted increase (also called "up one")? Holes belong in lace, not the shaping of your sweater.

I did not knit this—I hate pink, though I can live with ballet pink, rather like that below—but it is the best sample of increases and decreases within a fabric that I could find.

Also, some people seem to labor under the delusion that you can only work decreases on the right side of the work with knit stitches. This is not so. As I have in my Compo hat pattern, you can work decreases with purl stitches. As that pattern is in the round, technically every row is a right side row, but if it were flat knitting, the purl stitches would still be on the right side.

Color Changing (Intarsia and Fair Isle)

Changing tack, I see a lot of knitters scared of working intarsia or Fair Isle. Both are methods of changing colors of yarn; the former means big blocks of color (usually to create a big picture, like the Igby blanket); the latter means a few stitches of one color before changing again (usually to create a detailed geometric pattern, like the Fair Isle fag hat). Unlike Fair Isle, which strands the same colors of yarn all the way across behind the work, intarsia will stop and start again with different skeins of yarn for each block of color. I repeat, you're working with blocks of color. I've seen people working intarsia the same way they'd work Fair Isle, stranding the yarn all the way across. That does not work with intarsia. That is not the point of intarsia. While Fair Isle's reverse side is a series of multicolored strands, the reverse side of intarsia should look roughly like the reverse of the pattern on the front, with no (or very little) stranding visible. Like plain, single-color knitting, intarsia is of a normal gauge and does not have the thickness added to it that Fair Isle does. Because Fair Isle has all that stranding, the resulting fabric is quite thick.

I will break away from my "within the knitting community" bit here to mention a relevant story about intarsia from outside the knitting community.

I was dating PAG and talking about a sweater pattern I was working on but hadn't yet made. It was a picture of Captain Hook and the Crocodile (Yes, for me. Shut up.), only the pattern came from a Disney book, meaning Captain Hook's eponymous hook was on his left hand instead of his right as it should have been. I refused to contribute further to the perversion of the original story by wearing an inaccurate representation of Captain Hook, so I mirror imaged the entire pattern. This was no small feat since the pattern was one hundred five rows high and ninety-nine stitches across. I created an HTML table of the original pattern, the entire thing, one cell per square of the pattern and then mirrored it so that Hook's hook was on his right hand. (I opted to use a table instead of an image file because it made numbering the cells easier.) PAG laughed at me and said "Why didn't you knit it as it was and then just put the wrong side out?" Because, idiot, the wrong side of knitting does not look anything like the right side. The wrong side of knitting has purl rows, and color changes on purl rows are not pretty. All the detail gets lost in the mess. Also, the Captain Hook pattern had some duplicate stitch that had to be worked, which I am not attempting on a purl row.

Anyway. Another problem I see with color changing is people pulling too tightly or not tightly enough on the new yarn after changing colors, meaning the stitch is either too tight and disappears or is too loose and puffs out. If you knit it like that, fine, but for heaven's sake take a needle and pluck it into the appropriate shape before you wear the completed project. I swear my Obama sweater and Dead Kennedys shirt would have been blurry messes had I not done that.

Knitting is not punk.

Speaking of the Dead Kennedys, I realize that knitting a Dead Kennedys shirt is pretty sad. A punk rock band is not something I would associate with knitting. Having said that, what is with people thinking they're being 'punk' by knitting? Knitting is not punk. I know there's a lot of DIY in the punk culture, but knitting is not punk. No matter what kind of yarn you use, no matter what kind of pattern you create, knitting isn't punk. It's a fiber art. It has no say on the philosophy of punk whatsoever. Knitting has been around for centuries. It's stereotyped as a hobby popular among little old ladies. Now, I've been saying for years that I'm going to be one of those little old ladies who hits people with her cane when they try to help her across the street (regrettably, my great grandmother beat me to it on that one), and I can't wait, but I will not be doing it in plaid bondage pants and a knitted cardigan. It just doesn't mesh. Knit because you want to, because it's creative, because you like feeling productive, because you like yarn, because it reminds you of someone you care for, but for God's sake don't knit because you think it makes you some kind of badass. Calling knitting punk in any way is about the most pathetic thing I've ever seen. And this is coming from me. I made a Moebius scarf and Klein bottle hat for my friend the math professor, I obsess about my cats, I read classic literature, I play classical piano, I watch nothing but PBS and MSNBC, and, for God's sake, I post on Something Awful. In short, I never go anywhere, I never do anything, and I never have any fun. And I am looking down on these people. Think on that the next time you call yourself punk because you knit. By the way, safety pins snag on yarn. And don't think you can get around it by substituting stitch holders; they look like diaper pins.

No way would could I wear that. Too hardcore for me.

Nor is knitting just for old ladies.

Now. Related to something I mentioned above, there is the stereotype of knitting as a hobby for elderly women who make ugly, bulky sweaters for their grandchildren. It annoys me that this stereotype persists when I taught myself to knit the summer I turned nineteen. Someday I will be an elderly woman, but I will not make ugly things for my grandchildren. I have, regrettably, seen enough pictures of hideous, oversized, overly ambitious sweaters forced on children to know that there is a grain of truth to the stereotype, but I for one intend to make nice things my grandchildren would be proud to wear. But before that happens, for a long time I will be a fairly young woman. Like I said, I learned to knit at eighteen. I would carry my knitting with me on the bus when I was going to UT and knit on the commute or during lunch. I readily admit that carrying around knitting does nothing for your reputation with the opposite sex, but luckily, I was either pretty, nicely dressed, or clever enough to attract attention anyway. Not always favorable. Incidentally, mocking me for knitting will get you dumped.

Anyway, the point I was making was that both without and within the knitting community, knitting is known for being a predominantly female hobby, and usually not young females. When I worked in the calendar kiosk in the winter of 2008–2009, my only coworker who knitted was a sixty-two-year old woman. Many younger women have told me, when they see me knitting, that they'd like to learn. One told me that she tried but kept splitting the yarn into little pieces. That could be fixed in time, but, like most of the others who wanted to learn but didn't bother, she just didn't have the patience. I hear that a lot; people talk about how much patience it takes to knit. I suppose it does, because it's not like you get a new sweater right away as you do when you go to a store, but I don't think that's the right way to view knitting. As Norman Bates said, a hobby is supposed to pass the time, not fill it.

Still, even other knitters are surprised to see young people or men knitting. Regrettably, this is one misconception I'll be happy to leave alone, for the following reasons.

Just because you can knit it doesn't mean you should.

Now, it's not necessarily a bad thing that knitting is not terribly popular with young people. More young people are knitting now than they used to, but my initial pleasure at hearing that quickly abated when knitting patterns that were supposed to be young and "hip" cropped up. "Hip." Does anyone use that word besides mutton dressed as lamb? I'm referring to hideous knitted accessories like the decorative cuffs for jeans pictured at the top of this page (Why?!), cel phone covers (because, obviously, a sophisticated piece of electronic equipment that's been engineered to work properly when emitting a certain amount of heat really needs to be kept warm) . . . here we go . . .

. . . and—oh God—knitted underwear.

Yep, that's about as sexy as it sounds.

Even more horrifying when you realize those are a size extra large. Thank God she didn't model them.

Ignoring the fact that yarn is pretty itchy on bare skin, especially where knitted underwear would go, knitting is not sexy for the same reason that knitting is not punk. It has a reputation for being an old lady's hobby for a reason. Knitwear looks good on old ladies. Yarn looks good on a cardigan. Yarn most emphatically does not look good on a bra. For Christ's sake. Shop at Frederick's for that shit. Sexy underwear should be made of lace or silk. Or, you know, leather. Whatever floats your boat. If you want winter wear for underwear, do it right and buy thick cotton ones, not something made of yarn. That stuff isn't absorbent, which isn't healthy.

Which would you rather come home to?

By the way, here is a link to some people's idea of "sexy knitting." It's not work safe. Note that the knitting itself is not sexy; it's just people knitting normal stuff with their boobs hanging out or whatever and taking pictures. It's not about the knitting at all; it's about attention whoring. Case in point; knitting isn't sexy, despite their claim of "Perhaps these pics will finally squash that idea that knitting isn't sexy, because there's nothing we'd rather discover when we came home than a cute girl knitting in our bed." I can think of plenty of things I'd rather be doing in bed. Perhaps more to the point, I'm sure the guy could too.

I think whoever is making this stuff is forgetting a crucial detail: Sexy underwear is supposed to be tactile. Remember what I said about where it has to go. Yarn, even the silky kind, does not feel the same as silk. I for one would rather keep my sexy underwear and put a sweater on over it. I mean, what happens when you get home and in bed and remove your outer garments to reveal a yarn bra? It'll probably result in instant singlehood. I mean, geez, that's as bad as the sweater curse.

Which brings me to the sweater curse. I have explained this one to several people outside the knitting community as a rule which basically states "No sweaters before marriage." The sweater curse, while seemingly a superstition, has come true for many and many a knitter. It means a girl meets a guy she likes, they go out for a while, she decides to knit him a sweater and does so, she gives it to him, and bam, they break up. It never seems to happen with something small like a hat or a scarf or socks, only sweaters. Most knitters theorize that knitted sweaters scare guys off because of the domesticity they represent or there is some other issue at play.

Or, of course, it could be something like this.

Who can blame him? You can see the hate in his eyes. And seriously, who wouldn't run a mile from a sweater like that?

Now, I pride myself on being practical (this is why I am an atheist), but even I wouldn't cross the sweater curse. I have made hats and socks for guys, blankets for their friends or pets, but no guy is ever getting anything bigger than a hat from me.

Sweaters are for people.

On the topic of sweaters you shouldn't knit, would you people quit knitting sweaters for your damn animals? They are NOT. CUTE. Holy shit, I never feel more embarrassed for an animal than when I see the hapless creature forced into some hideous wool concoction. They have enough fur, unless you're one of those idiots who shaves her poodle, in which case go for it. The poor dog doesn't have any dignity left anyway; may as well finish it off. Or at least cover up the bald spots.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

Anyway, I hate seeing animals in clothes. Some dogs can pull off a bandana. Igby can even pull off a hat:

Aw.

But there's a big difference between Igby and Howard (the dog in the red sweater). There's just something particularly hideous and unnatural about seeing a cute, furry animal squeezed into an ugly, furry sweater. I have actually—albeit briefly—contemplated knitting a sweater for Freefall since he hates the cold weather so much. He never spends more than two minutes outside in the winter time, and that's a liberal estimate. It's possible that he might not mind the sweater . . . oh, who am I kidding. Not only will I not subject him (or myself, for that matter) to the embarrassment of wearing one (which I don't want to make anyway), but I will not undergo the pitched battle that would take place upon trying to force him into the thing. I know I'm bigger than he is, but he has claws. He's also been known to bite. Hard. He's never bitten me, but I'd prefer to keep it that way.

Much as with underwear, handbags are things you should buy pre-made.

At least that way if it sucks, you don't have to take the blame for making it. Just buying it.

One last thing you shouldn't knit: Bags. I'm not talking about felted purses, which I could do without but are still basically fine. I mean those ugly hobo bags, or knitted things with stupid crocheted flowers sewn on. Apart from inevitably being fairly ugly, you have to sew linings into those. Why bother?

That's a nice looking pattern, but I do not want a sweater of a bag with a thick strap hanging over my shoulder in the Texas heat. Also, I know that knit straps don't support the weight of the contents of the bag all that well, not to mention that without a lining, all kinds of little things can poke through (in or out of) the bag.

Learn to curb your fandom.

Now, hideous Twilight womb aside, most fan knitting is not that bad. Doctor Who scarves are awesome. There's nothing wrong with people knitting those or striped Harry Potter scarves or Jack Ryan sweaters or, yes, Compo hats. I almost knitted myself a Slytherin scarf once and still might. I like Harry Potter as much as the next person, unless of course the person who knitted this is the next person.

Yeah, I'll agree it's amazing, but probably not in the same way they meant.

It looks like somebody took a perfectly good pink cardigan, removed the sleeves, and attached it to a 70s granny square afghan after it got sucked through a funnel with an angry cat in it.

What gets me is that it's tagged "pretty."

Of course, now the carousel hat looks good in comparison.

Maybe.

To wrap up . . .

I don't know what it is about some people when they pick up their needles. Either they're talentless hacks in denial, they haven't learned yet, they regrettably have access to both yarn and a camera (and, in some regrettable instances, the Twilight novels), or they just plain have no taste.

I really hope any knitters reading this who see themselves here learn a few lessons. If you wade through all the snarkiness, I think this whole section of the website can be really helpful, even if it's only "what not to do." If you'd make fun of it if someone else did it, don't do it. If you think it would scare off a potential date, don't do it. If you'd be embarrassed to acknowledge making it, don't make it. If you wouldn't want it as a gift, don't give it away or wear it yourself. If it doesn't fit, redo it. Really, this whole page could be summed up with "know what you're doing, and don't do anything stupid or crazy."

But it's the Internet. *sigh* Thusly, this section of my site shall thrive.