I’m always sort of surprised by what I can learn about myself through knitting. For example, I have just had it reinforced that I don’t take direction well. I don’t like being told what to do, and if coerced (even by myself) into doing something un-Stephanie-like, there will be consequences. During the knitting of the Snowdrop Shawl I was very un-Stephanie-like. You will note that during this time, I was remarkably monogamous with the shawl. I stuck with one project, I swatched, I kept notes…I used graph paper, and most remarkably…I finished the shawl. Most un-harloty.
Today, there are consequences.

This is what I’m working on now. Yesterday I just kept dragging out project after project and couldn’t control myself in the slightest. I started 2 new things, plus a square for the Mason-Dixon afghan-along plus hauled out the purple socks that need finishing, plus decided to risk The Claw and get back on the horse that threw me by pulling out Ken’s socks. Then I got the new Vogue Knitting and I wanted to make everything.
I take that back. I don’t want to make the bikini. Let’s not discuss why. The sun is shining, I’m close to being done the laundry, there’s every possibility that I’m going to get a nice job today and I’m just not going to wreck it by even starting with the multitude of reasons why me in a crocheted bikini is not a good idea. I think the model wearing it is the one woman in the world who could pull it off, and I dare her to get it wet. (Hell…it’s a slow day, I double dog dare her)
This,

is the object of my most intense lust. I labour under the delusion that I would look so slender and chic in it, and we all know how I feel about cardigans, and while the sample is knit in a powder blue, mine would be periwinkle (4179, they call it grape. Who names yarn? I could do a way better job). I was showing this to my mother, who has spent 35 years trying to teach me the rules of fashion. Things like “short women should wear all one colour to emphasize a long line”, or “women with small busts should draw attention to their faces” and “The taller you are, the longer you can set your hems”. Or the rule that apparently applies here…”If you are not very tall, you shouldn’t wear sweaters that come past your hips”.
I explained that even though I am not as tall as the woman in the photo, (I’m going to take a moment to give Ken a pre-emptive “shut up” here…since he is going to be compelled to make some kind of smart-ass remark about my height) I do think that sweater would look good on me, and that frankly, I don’t buy these rules and that I believe that she is making them up to stand between me and everything I have ever wanted to wear. My mother looked me in the eye and said “Darling…I have always wondered what you think you look like”.
Food for thought.