Authors: Stephanie Pearl–McPhee
Knitting makes boring people interesting and mundane things intriguing. The only other thing that does that has the disadvantage of giving you a hangover instead of a pair of socks.
It's okay to be confused when somebody tells you she could never knit because it looks too complicated and (in the same breath) that it's too boring to be able to stick to it. What she means is that she doesn't want to take up knitting.
Non-knitters are, to me, very interesting. ⦠As knitters, it's good that we spend some time getting to understand their confusing ways.
There are roughly 50 million knitters in North America. I suspect that knitting is a little bit like religion; many are not currently “practicing.” This would explain why you can always find yourself the only knitter at a cocktail party.
According to my calculations, knitters (past and present) make up about 15 percent of the North American population. That's astounding when you think about it. It's enough for a revolution (imagine a world run by knitters?) or a cult. Cults and revolutions often end badly, however, so no matter what you're thinking, we should probably put it out of our heads. We are still fiercely outnumbered. Considering these odds, it's also pretty likely that you are going to have to marry/live with/date a non-knitter.
Given the multitude of charms that knitting possess, why doesn't everyone knit? How come the other 85 percent of the world keeps looking at us like ⦠that? A brief and unscientific study (I asked some people) revealed the reasons people say they don't knit.
Reason 1
“I could never do that. I'm completely uncoordinated.”
Right. Well, that's an interesting one. Considering that since we've invented knitting (sometime in the 14th century) it's been child labor in many parts of the world, I've
got to tell you that this one doesn't hold water. I find it difficult to believe that children all over the world can manage to learn this, no matter how poorly educated or unskilled they are, but a full-grown person who can read, write, drive a car, and work the DVD player is unable to.
Reason 2
“I could never do that; I don't have the patience.”
I have the attention span of a three-year-old full of chocolate bars at a birthday party, so I'm not buying this one either. Knitting grants patience to those who do it. Ask around. Most knitters will tell you they're at their most patient with the needles in their hands, and that this practice makes them more tolerant of ordinary setbacks.
Reason 3
“I can't afford it.”
Nope. Real knitters (the ones who've fallen down hard and don't want to get up) would knit grass with sticks if they ran out of money. There are lots of ways to get by on the cheap.
Reason 4
“I'm not smart enough.”
Knitting, all knitting â every single item â is made up of two stitches, knit and purl. If you're wearing clothes and you dressed yourself, you're smart enough to knit. If you're wearing matching clothes or a coordinating accessory, you're smart enough to knit well.
Reason 5
“I don't have time.”
Don't start with me. We all find the time for what we love to do. Just admit it: You want to cross-stitch instead.
There are many kinds of knitters, and not all of them seem crazy when you look at them. There are knitters
who have made their hobby a lifestyle and those who have a moderate, reasonable knitting habit that they engage in “some” of the time. Both kinds of knitters appear to be happy and (somewhat) well adjusted. Knowing which camp you fall into can help determine whether you should start planning a yarn stash for your old age.
Knitting is endlessly interesting. Knitting lets you turn one thing into another, and better than that, a variety of “anothers.” A ball of yarn could be anything at all: a hat, a book cover, a bag. For the love of wool, Debbie New knit a boat. (It's seaworthy, too.) That innocent-looking string could be anything, and it's all up to the knitter.
Many of us have been trying to figure this out for years, but it's a difficult question. First, yarn and knitting seem to affect different people differently. It could be a matter of genetics, availability, or experience, but not all knitters will end up with behavior that indicates addiction. There do appear to be several levels of yarn, uh, “involvement.”
Level 1
Interested.
The knitter engages in yarn activities some of the time, mostly in social settings in yarn shops or at lessons, or quietly in his or her free time. This knitter may attend a knitting club or guild, and may sometimes purchase yarn, though it doesn't really affect the budget much. The “interested” knitter has firm, concrete plans for all of the yarn. She occasionally bypasses a yarn store for a bookstore.
Level 2
Focused.
The knitter now often “knits alone” and frequently allows her family to see her knitting. The “focused” knitter may now be actively trying to recruit friends and family into her yarn lifestyle and has been seen purchasing yarn with no clear intentions, just because it is “soft” or “on sale.” This knitter may have several projects on the needles, and may actually be overwhelmed (occasionally and happily) with her own knitty plans. She still goes to bookstores and imagines herself putting down the knitting to read. (She doesn't.)
Level 3
Preoccupied.
The knitter may now be spending all of her free time knitting but is still attending to other things, like job and children. The “preoccupied” knitter actively shops for yarn often, discusses yarn often, and occasionally has dreams in which knitting figures prominently. In a bookstore, she now treks only to the knitting book section.
Level 4
Obsessed.
The knitter spends all of her free time knitting, and the time she considers “free” is expanding. She is likely now neglecting housework with a vengeance and is dreaming in knitting code. The “obsessed” knitter stalks other people to stare at their sweaters, and would rather sit on a train for nine hours where she can knit comfortably, rather than drive. This knitter has discovered books on tape, buys yarn like it's a job, and dreams of a way to make money from knitting
so she wouldn't have to waste good knitting time earning a living. People in the neighborhood have started calling this person things like “that knitting guy” and the knitter does not care. Quite the contrary, he is flattered and has never been happier.
We will never know whether knitters are addicted to yarn or to the act of knitting. To find out, we'd need to take someone's yarn away and see how she feels. I can't do that to another knitter. The ethical questions are too tricky.
Scenario 1
You and a friend are in a restaurant and while you're waiting for the food, you're (naturally) knitting. The waitress comes to the table with your water and says, “Wow, is that knitting? I've always wanted to knit.”
You:
Take out the spare needles and yarn you have in your bag (for just this kind of moment) and, telling her that there was a time in your life when you too were a non-knitter, plop her down at your table and teach her how to knit in between courses.
Ask her what she's always dreamed of knitting and encourage her to meet you at the stitch-and-bitch you attend downtown.
Show her how stitches are formed on the needles, extol the joys of precision, and encourage her to get a book about the concepts of knitting.
Give her some beautiful yarn and needles, as it will all come together when she's ready.
Say, “That's nice. Is there any lemon for my water?”
Scenario 2
When you wear your new shawl to a party, a woman comes up to you and compliments it. “That's so beautiful,” she says. “Did you make that?”
You reply:
“Yes, I did, and you can make one too!”