My Favorite Designer is Mark Down

My son Colton asked me to knit him a sweater. He showed me a picture of what he wanted, picked the yarn, and I was thrilled -- there is nothing better than your kid asking you to make them something. I knew I was heading into vacation with plenty of knitting time ahead of me, so I packed the skein I'd already wound into a ball, plus three more. My sister took one look at my suitcase and joked I wasn't going to have room left for clothes, since half of it was wool.

While I was away, I swatched. I blocked. I sketched. I did the math -- and I even texted Ginni to double-check it, because that's where I go when I need reassurance. And then I cast on.

I wish I could tell you I nearly ran out of yarn. But you already know how this story goes.

This is the knitter's equivalent of your eyes being bigger than your stomach. The truth is, I barely finished the four inches of ribbing.

That's not a bad thing, exactly. It's just my nature. I'm an optimist. I'm quite sure I can get everything done in the ridiculously small amount of time I allocate for it, which is also why I'm nearly always late for everything.

Here's the thing about that tendency, though -- it doesn't just show up in my suitcase. It shows up on my shop shelves too. I buy yarn all the time fully intending to knit a shop sample in it, because everyone in this business knows samples sell yarn. People need to see a thing on a body, not just wound on a shelf, before they can picture it as theirs. But there are only so many of us here, and only so many garments we can actually get made in a season, and some yarns -- through absolutely no fault of their own -- just don't get their turn.

My friend Beth has a phrase for this. She says "middle child" should always be preceded by "poor, neglected."

That's exactly it. Nothing wrong with the yarn that hasn't sold. It's beautiful. It just didn't get the spotlight the new arrivals do. For the same reason Colton's sweater was still four inches of ribbing after a week away: There's only one of me, and there are a million other fun/important/urgent things that eat into my knitting time.  

Which is good for you.  I get it.  Who doesn't like a sale? I often say, "My favorite designer is Mark Down." It gets a laugh every time, and I mean it half as a joke and half seriously -- there is no shame in a sale bin here. Some of what's landing there in the next couple of weeks is yarn I genuinely love and just haven't done right by yet.

The Labor Day sale starts this Friday, August 28th, and it's going to be full of yarn like this -- beautiful, under-appreciated yarn that's ready for someone who'll actually take it home and knit with it.  Someone who will love it and rescue it from the shelf (or worse, the deep dark back). I don't have the shelf space I used to, so I need room for the fabulous Bramble & Fleece which arrives next month. 

Regarding Colton's sweater, I will tell you, I was glad I had all that yarn with me, even though most of it came home unknit. I would rather have had it and not needed it than need it and not have it.  That's the nice thing about yarn -- it doesn't go bad.   It's happy to sit in my suitcase and travel back and forth.  Never complains.  Good yarn can sit for six months or six years and be just as good as the day you bought it.

That goes for whatever you bring home from the Labor Day sale. You don't have to cast on the day it arrives. Having good yarn on hand, at a good price, for the sweater you'll get to eventually -- is not a waste.  It's an investment.

Warmly,
~Ellen