It was supposed to be a hat. A dainty beret, in fact. But, people? Somehow it was the size of a small sweater. I mean, if I would have ignored this mass that was growing beneath my hands and kept on knitting, I would have ended up with something like this.
I've no idea where I went wrong, but wrong it was, verified by the youngest boy in the house who nearly tipped over laughing when I tried the unfinished hat on my head. Ah, vell.
But, here's the thing: a knitted garment gone awry isn't a total loss. Pull out the needles and rip out the stitches. In other words, frog it. Don't even hesitate. No need to cry over something that didn't work out, because the positive is, you still have this beautiful yarn to make into something else.
I've been thinking a lot, lately, about slow fashion, inspired by fellow knitter, sewist, and blogger Karen Templer over at Fringe Association. For the second October now, she's leading us all in a journey toward mindful fashion. She's calling it Slow Fashion October.* Considering where our garments are made, who has made them, and what the real cost has been to produce them are things she's passionate enough to lead a conversaton about. Come to find out, there's often more behind a garment than the amount on the price tag.
Maybe like you, I'm not one to jump on a bandwagon or parade around with a poster, but when something strikes a chord, I can listen, and most likely, I'll find myself humming along with the tune in my own quiet way. For me, it's less about waging war against fast fashion, and more about catching inspiration and reason to create and curate beautiful garments that I'll love to wear. Like Karen said, it's feeling good in my clothes, and feeling good about my clothes. It's moving in the right direction for me, with sufficient doses of grace along the way.
I unravelled the hat, untangled the yarn, and rolled it into a ball (or four). I'm thinking maybe I'll make another one of these(which I'm wearing this very moment - and it fits!) with the blue, and maybe one of these with the copper. Because, after all, the best place to begin anything is right where we are.