Hold on there a minute, crazy knitter
Last night I was idly considering what I might knit next and found a pattern for a sweater called Klaralund. It needs ten-ish balls of a nice self-striping Japanese yarn called Noro Silk Garden so I poked around a bit on Ebay and found lots of ten-ball packs in the general price range of $80. I briefly thought about just getting the stuff rather than hemming and hawing, which is what I usually do.
It took a few minutes, but finally my brain managed to cut through the yarn-lust and get my attention.
Eighty bucks? I would never, and I mean NEVER, spend $80 on a sweater in a store. I’m usually over by the sale rack crowing when I find something for $15.99 (although these days I’m not usually in stores at all). What the hell was I thinking? Eighty just for the raw material? I staggered off to bed in a fit of self-recrimination and disappointment. Not only am I turning into a crazed consumer but I also don’t get a pretty sweater.
What is more philosophically interesting about this (or maybe sociologically interesting) is that the crafts that were once penny-wise ways to keep a family fed and dressed on little money are now indulgences. It is so much cheaper to buy bread than make bread, to buy cookies rather than make them. Fabric costs a fortune and wool (good wool) does too. I used to be pleased that I had these thrifty skills and now my skills are leading me into some strange world of self-indulgent artistry rather than economic sense. In this world of plenty, the old skills are affectations. It seems a shame.
I know there’s a point to knitting (or bread making) for its own sake, but while our finances are tight, these things feel too indulgent and I wish they didn’t. On the up side, I’ve been reading about reclaiming yarn from thrift store sweaters. I’m thinking of hitting the Second Mile and seeing what might be worth unravelling.
In other news, I finished this for Patrick (and since I already spoiled the surprise I can post a photo) and I’m finished the back of Helena’s dress and charging ahead on the front. The yarn for Helena’s dress (S. Charles Victoria cotton-viscose mix) is very cool and I’ve never knit a faster yarn (although it also drops stitches like cannon balls — one tiny slip and I’m down four rows. Yikes!)
1. Scale.
2. With the quality of the yarn you’re buying, that sweater would retail for $380.
So calm down.
Jesus, that sounded harsh. Scale — J. Crew can pay cents on the dollar in Korea. Quality — you ever look at the quality of the yarn on that $15.99 sweater? Not the same. You ever look at the price tag on a 3-ounce knitted “sweater” in Barneys? $790. Not kidding.
I like going to our local JC Penny’s outlet to get my clothing on the cheap. Its all about production lines and machines. Remember Adam Smith’s needlemaker example. How far back you willing to go? Would you make your own needle? Shear a sheep?
What I find sad is that its cheaper to eat out than cook sometimes. Especially if you’re eating at the Costco diner.
Ya — exactly so. Marx also had a lot to say about production lines and machines and the alienation of the common person from the results of her labor.
And in fact, Daniel is all about us making our own knitting needles so we have dowels now. He’s sanding them. It might be interesting.
And the eating out/cooking thing is another part of this. How can the raw materials be more expensive than the prepared product? And they wonder why USAians are fat and unhealthy — because it’s cheaper to eat at McD’s than to make a salad at home.
Its a sad state of affairs. What we’re saying is that Wal-Mart, McDonald’s and the JC Penny Outlet are the only thing keeping the CPI index in check.
I think its sweet that yall will be making your own needles too. The next step will be getting the raw materials directly from the source. I got a German Shepard who could be shorn(?) and make a lovely sweater…
Okay, nevermind.
Patrick’s jumper is LOVELY.
If you love a jumper enough, and can just afford it, then you should – good clothes are a sound investment – their quality and the fact that you love them ensures that you will wear them for years. Six years ago I paid 60 pounds (about 106 dollars) for a lovely Betty Jackson slouchy mint green jumper. I have been wearing it ever since, it is only just fraying at the edges and people still comment on it, even though it is a tatty image of its former self. I’ve had several cheap jumpers that have stretched, balled and eventually loathed…the pleaure you will get from handling the nice wool, and knitting it is a ‘virtual’ fringe benefit too. Go for it!