Have you ever experienced pattern lust? When you see a pattern and you have to have it, start it, make it, now, now, now?! My first time was six (!!) years ago, when my knitting mania had just started. I saw Pomatomus, and my brain went NOW!
Caution ruled in those early days. Not wishing to invest effort unless I was sure it would pay off, I would thoroughly research every pattern I decided to knit, through Ravelry projects, Google Blog Search (now dead, alas) even the general internet. I searched under the pattern name, and in conjunction with keywords like “problem” and “difficult” to prepare for possible hurdles. I searched for “yarn” and “finished”. I wanted to be absolutely prepared!
But Pomatomus was different. I found it during a break at work, rushed to a yarn shop on my way home, picked up a suitably blue yarn that seemed the right weight (it wasn’t, but the pattern has enough elasticity to compensate) and greedily started, every knitting cell in my brain saying “NOW”!
I loved making that first sock. By the heel, I had done my usual research and decided to modify the toe to carry on the pattern. A few more nights browsing, and I was inspired by other projects to reverse the scales on the other foot to a Sumotomap.
But I wasn’t done with the pattern, oh no. I used it for a pair of fingerless gloves in Chiara – the most elegant of yarns, with a fuzzy green mohair halo around a gleaming rayon core – even going to the extent of wrapping the yarn the other way on the second glove so that the twisted rib slanted down in the opposite direction, in perfect mirror image. The thumb gusset grows beautifully, organically, out of the pattern. The edges of the fingers are asymmetrical, to create an arched outline; they are also finished with a tubular bind off, because these gloves are all about refinement. They remind me of waves in Japanese prints, of a line out of Possession where the narrator finds the woodcut of a wolf, “…whose hairs were cut in harmony with the incisive feathering of the trees…”, of what, perhaps, a particularly snobbish Slytherin would wear on their way to plot some deliciously evil activities.
Imagine my horror then, when I discovered my original socks had disappeared!!! And I had no memory of where to begin searching. I needed to replace them, but had no sock yarn at hand.
Therefore, a cowl. Gloriously squishy and stretchy, each arching stroke drawn with precision. I already love it.