The yarn stash diet

Four weeks have passed since we rolled into 2017 yet I have managed to avoid giving more than a cursory thought to my New Year's resolutions.  I seem to have years like this every so often. It's a year where my sub-conscience thinks it can just sneak past the first month of the year without any honest self-assessment and therefore no doomed attempts at self-improvement.  Years like this, I tend to put off thinking about making resolutions until the next New Year comes around because really, if you don't make that list by the last week of January, any momentum you might have had has probably already evaporated.  So while I decide if it's too late for me, I've decided to turn my guilty conscience to my yarn stash and put it on a new diet regimen.

It's not like I haven't been attempting to get my stash under control for the last six years. (Not coincidentally, this attempt began a few years after I had discovered Ravelry and all its many paths to damnation.)  I had managed to get myself to a point where I had amassed more yarn than I was ever likely to knit.  As part of the effort to rein in my stash, I collected data in a spreadsheet in hopes that being faced with the undeniably cold, hard truth of numbers, I would be able to keep my yarn shopping in check.  It sort of worked.  For the first time in years, my stash was actually shrinking instead of growing.  Victory, right?  Well, maybe, not really.

I had been congratulating myself for the last few years on the fact that I had turned the ship around--I had reduced my yearly stash intake dramatically and I was consistently reducing my stash (admittedly, by relatively small amounts) every year.  So why the panic now?  Well, it's the rate at which I'm currently reducing my stash.  Even if I were to never add another yard of yarn to my stash (a clearly preposterous notion) and I knit as fast as I could, I have two decades worth of yarn.  I'm not yet so old that this exceeds my expected years left on this mortal plane, but when I consider how much I actually knit in a given year, and my current rate of yarn acquisition (reduced though it may be), my stash is, optimistically, about double that time.  Odds say I might still be alive (barely) but that's an embarrassingly long time to be sitting on the same yarn.

Insert long pause filled with regret here.

But moping never accomplishes anything so I've been considering how I can deal with my stash problem and weighing the pros and cons of my various options.  It comes down to this:

1. Knit more

2. Destash

I've kind of ruled out option #1.  I could probably sneak in a little more knitting into my life, but it isn't likely that I will.  I have other interests and responsibilities that are not compatible with more knitting.  Also, I never want to knit just to keep ahead of my stash.  It really sucks the joy out of it and I knit for joy, thanks.

Option #2 has more appeal to me, but the logistics of it are a bit of a stumbling block.  I haven't worked up the nerve to KonMari my life yet (as tempting as it seems at times when I'm sorting through the clutter) and there is a part of me (possibly the hoarder part of me) that recoils at the notion of all this stuff just going to landfill.  But how do I find the people that will want my unused knitting stuff and will anyone want to pay the hefty Canada Post parcel rates?  The more I ponder the question, the more sensible it seems to find options that keep trades local, even if that significantly diminishes the pool of potential traders and buyers.  I'm hoping that the Ravelry community will be where I find that potential pool but I'll be exploring other options this year, including The Bunz Knitting Zone.  (For that one, I'll have to break my current moratorium on Facebook, but for the environment and my storage space, I can make that sacrifice.)

Another question I ask myself is, can I get anything like fair value for my stuff?  What's "fair" is obviously subjective and I know I cannot hope to get what I paid for my stuff.  It's a loss I'll have to swallow and I can consider it just reward for poor judgement.  But that said, I'm also not interested in giving decent stuff away for nothing.  Not exactly.  For the things that I don't think I can trade or sell easily but are absolutely usable, I plan to donate to the Textile Museum of Canada.  I can't think of a more appropriate way to donate textile-related supplies.  The TMC conducts multiple sales of these donations throughout the year.  This helps raise funds for a worthy little museum that receives 3/4 of its funding from donations, and it reaches a population that is already primed to want this sort of thing and because the sales are so affordable, it can get good, sometimes unique, materials into the hands of crafters and artists who might not have had the means to obtain this stuff otherwise.  In my mind, there is value in that.

It's time to cull the stash.  It might hurt, and I may even have a few regrets, but it will be a mental and physical burden lifted off my shoulders.  It might even be the stepping stone to getting the rest of my house in order once I see how freeing it is to just let go.  It's also a thousand times less painful than restarting interval training.

Firsts

It's taken a while, but after having been a knitter for 20 or so years, I finally worked up the nerve to attend a fiber festival.  (Naturally, you are asking yourself, if I never attended these yarn fests and I rarely set foot in a yarn store, how did my stash grow so large, and the answer is, of course, the internets.)  I have some theories about why I never could convince myself I needed to go to these things, but I won't bore you with them.  (They mostly boil down to one incident when a somewhat crazed knitter threw an elbow straight into my chest at The Textile Museum's More Than Just a Yardage Sale* so that she could get to a box of old Vogue Knitting magazines before I did.)  I did eventually convince myself that the few unpleasant knitters I had encountered in those early years by no means represented the whole of knitterdom and partly by chance, I started to meet knitters outside the context of bargain mania.  I discovered that knitters are so much more pleasant when they don't think you're trying to abscond with that bag of Rowan yarn that has a price tag of $10.  Anyhow, I eventually decided that I would in fact LOVE to attend a yarn festival but it happened to coincide with my deciding that I really should not be acquiring any more yarn until my stash was under control.  So this month, after several years of yarn dieting, I decided it was safe for me to go.  Please don't conclude that I have worked my stash down to something sensible.  I have not done so.  But I have learned to control my yarn acquisition problem.**

The fates have conspired to prevent me from attending the Knitter's Frolic here in Toronto for the last two years but I had heard about the Kitchener-Waterloo Knitters' Fair and decided this would be the fair that finally broke my moratorium on fiber festivals.  I was a little worried that I wasn't picking the right venue for my very first foray into the world of knitting fairs since it was being held in a hockey arena--not exactly a visual delight***-- but, the timing was right, and most importantly, I was interested in seeing the wares of a few particular vendors and this was going to be my best opportunity to do so in person.

That handful of vendors I was interested in were, not coincidentally, all local Ontario wool producers and indie-dyers.  I especially wanted to see some more**** of what my fellow Ontarians were creating because I am starting to feel pretty strongly about supporting the local economy and in particular, supporting new producers and craftspeople who are building their businesses on a model of sustainability and ethical practices.  I wanted to see in person if their products were as impressive as their enthusiasm for environmental and social issues.  To be perfectly honest, I was blown away by what I saw and by the vendors I spoke to.  Some I had heard of, a few I discovered for the first time. What really struck me about some of these particular vendors was that sustainability of production and sourceable chains of supply were not just catch-phrases to them and these were concerns they took to heart.  I.e., they weren't just talking the talk.

So let me tell you about the Fair vendors that really stood out for me.  First, how nifty is it to meet an actual shepherdess!  This was a lucky find, tucked away in the Fair's Micro Market.  Laura Sharpe of Twin Oaks Farms was super charming and young as she is, she is shepherdess to a small flock of Romney sheep on her farm near Guelph.  (I say "young", I just mean well younger than I am--not little Miss Muffet).  She sells fleece and yarn which she has processed by Wellington Fibers in Elora.  You can read more about Laura's fiber products on her website.  (In fact, I hope anyone reading this clicks through to the farmers and dyers I link in this post--I'm excited about every single one of them!)  She has chosen to sell her products undyed at this time but sometimes, those natural sheep shades are the best!  I hope to get my pre-order in on time for a few skeins of worsted from her black lambs who were born this year and won't be sheared until 2017.  (Pre-ordering yarn because it's still growing?  Kind of awesome!  I also find it so adorable that her yarns are named for the sheep who provided the fleece!)  I was a little shy of getting in anyone's way just to take some photos so all I came away with was a snap of her business card (which she had already run out of by noon!) and a quickie of the yarn I would have bought had it been a worsted weight (which will be available in 2017, hence the pre-order):

Wellington Fibres happened to be one of the booths at the Fair that I really enjoyed photographing (quickly, so as to get out of people's way, although I somehow still managed to always be in someone's way. Forgive me, Fair goers.)  The rows and rows of boxes of brightly dyed fibers were a fun touch.

Speaking of displays, Kylie of Agrestal Yarns (which I hadn't realised is based in Toronto) had a really wonderful booth.  Everything about her yarns, her colours, her displays, and the fact that Kylie herself was knitting so nimbly while standing and chatting with visitors apparently without needing to look at her work just created this magical aura!  I probably took the most pictures here because I just loved the thought and artistry she put into each area of her booth.

I can thank the KW Fair for introducing me to the colours of the Georgian Bay Fibre Co. which is operated by Carla Pletzer in Parry Sound.  Carla has an incredible range of beautiful kettle-dyed colours in bases ranging from fingering to aran which were all on glorious display in her lovely booth, minus those which had already sold out.  I only packed a 50mm lens with me and backing up far enough to capture the whole booth meant stopping traffic.  You do not want to be the obstacle between a knitter and yarn.  Believe me.  (You can check out Carla's Instagram for a better view and just because she takes nice photos).

I very nearly made off with the only two remaining hanks of Bayfield Fingering BFL in the colour Windermere Hollyberry right ahead of the Fair's guest speaker, Anne Hanson, but I was pre-empted by the lady standing next to me by a matter of mere seconds. Anne, in my defence, no one knew they were reserved for you and you are welcome to blame that lady who was hightailing it out of the booth with her spoils.  I was the one left standing there, mouth agape, mourning my loss.  (I had temporarily forgotten about the internet and the existence of online shopping.)*****

The Hollyberry is third from the left. This is where I blame the arena lighting because this photo does not capture the perfect orange-tinged redness of this yarn

I have forgiven myself for this yarn diet transgression.  I loved the colour even under those arena lights, and now that it has arrived via mail, I have zero regrets.  Though, if I don't get it knitted up in the next few months, I'm going to start feeling a bit silly about my eagerness to have this yarn right now.  Especially because in my grief, I stumbled over to The Gaynor Homestead's booth and bought two skeins of their absolutely perfect 3-ply Rambouillet, despite not having had that type of yarn on my list of allowed purchases.  (Having a list really works--if you stick to it.)  It's on my needles right now, which is a good sign, but I have done the thing I was never to do again which is buy more yarn than I can knit in the foreseeable future.  (I still have hopes though.  I just have to resign myself to purely selfish knitting from now until the new year.  Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.)

I admit this might have been a rebound purchase, but seriously, I get goosebumps when I squeeze the yarn, it's that nice. Bonus, the Gaynor's were a really lovely young couple and they raised the sheep themselves.  They chose to have the yarn milled in Michigan, I think to achieve the precise result they were aiming for.  I haven't decided if I'm going to dye this yarn or not because it is my idea of the perfect shade of cream and it is the natural colour of their sheep. I almost feel it would be a shame to obscure it.

There were of course many other vendors and I did snap a few pictures of other things that caught my eye, but it seemed to me that there was something there for just about everyone, even someone as particular as I am!  Now I'm really looking forward to the Woodstock Fleece Festival on October 15, 2016 and I might even accompany a group of knitters.  I feel like there has been some personal growth here, somewhere.

One of a kind buttons

John Galda of A.B. Originals (based in Rockwood, ON) hand carves unique buttons from wood and other organic materials like seeds. I believe he had some really delicate hand-carved shawl pins as well, but his booth was so busy, it was hard for me to get in close enough for a proper look!

The Galdas don't seem to have a website, but I first heard of them because The Peggy Sue Collection uses A.B. Originals Buttons for its fashion line.  If you haven't heard of Peggy Sue, she is an amazing champion of local and ethically sourced high fashion--and her design is outstanding.

Service

Mr. Galda, one half of A.B. Originals, helping a customer sort buttons

Oversized knitting

Eye candy

There were a fair number of dyers offering these long-gradient balls.  Naming them after candy seemed à propos!

Weaving demo

The KW Spinners and Weavers Guild had a table and were demonstrating the ancient art of weaving with this colourful series of place mats.  The gentleman who wove this portion had wonderfully agile fingers!

Sericin Silkworks

Beautifully hand-dyed luxury yarns by Sericin Silkworks

As an aside, my worries about the arena venue ruining the vibe were completely unfounded.  I don't think my eyes really ever strayed from all the beautiful yarns, fiber, and sample knits.  Plus, a hockey rink is about as Canadian a venue as one can get.

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Footnotes:

*The Textile Museum receives so many donations from companies and private individuals that they are now running drop-in sales throughout the year.  They have a list of upcoming events if you like sifting through old stuff in search of treasures or just marvelling at what other crafters had in their stashes

**Mostly under control.  I'm not made of steel. But I have definitely made progress, mainly in identifying my shopping triggers

***I'm going to pretend the wholly unattractive quality of arena lighting is a valid excuse for the quality of my photos

****I only recently became aware that there were so many yarn producers in Ontario through my friend Kerstin of Alpaca Avenue.  I don't know if there is another yarn store in Toronto like Alpaca Avenue that carries products based on both the beauty of the product and the sustainability of its production and use, with an emphasis on Canadian and American origination. Worth checking out if those things are of interest to you!

*****I have been working so hard to retrain myself to not shop for yarn online, which I think explains this cerebral glitch

Yarnography

I sometimes wonder if I don't knit my stash yarn because it looks so much nicer as skeins.

Malabrigo "Mecha", col.43 Plomo

(More likely it's because the yarn in its unknit form holds infinite promise whereas the knitted item sometimes falls short of those wild hopes and dreams we had when we bought the stuff.  I'm sure I'm not alone in preferring a room full of infinite promise over a dresser full of disappointment and that's why the yarn stash is so out of control.  That, and unchecked shopping.*)

As beautiful as a skein of yarn is in its unsullied state, I find photographing an appealing image of my yarn to be pretty challenging.  Something tells me it ought to be a simple task, yet I find that most (as in, nearly all) of my yarn photos fail to capture that appeal that made me buy the yarn in the first place.  Kettle dyed yarns like the Malabrigo Mecha pictured above provide a certain amount of visual interest all on their own but try photographing ten balls of a solid colour mercerised cotton or superwash wool and then you find out how good a photographer you really are.

I had a look back at the evolution of my yarn photography and I can see a progression (mainly in camera quality) but maybe not as much progress in skill as one might hope for over the course of 8 years.  Somewhere in my mind I believe that if I can learn to consistently take an eye-catching photo of any yarn, be it a hank of beautiful hand-dyed or a drab ball of workaday cotton, I'll have actually reached the next stage in my photography endeavours so I continue photographing yarn despite the slow pace of improvement.

Besides, for me, photographing yarn is the next best thing to photographing actual finished objects so it remains one of my subjects of choice, especially since the FOs have been conspicuously not forthcoming in recent years.  Also, when you come home with your latest yarn acquisition or it arrives in the mail, your enthusiasm for that yarn is at its highest and therefore, photographing it doesn't seem like something only crazy people do.

As pointless an endeavour this might seem, there are a few upsides to all this yarn photography I do.  On a practical level, it helps me keep track of what I have in my stash.  Otherwise, after newly acquired yarn gets hermetically sealed into vacuum bags and then buried alive in a storage tote, I might easily forget I have it.  (Surely, if I had kept a visual record since I first began buying more yarn than I could knit, I wouldn't have 6 different balls of nearly the same shade of blue sport-weight cotton for the occasional knitted toy project that only required a few grams of the stuff.)  Photographing yarn has also taught me several things about using a camera and how light has more properties than "enough" and "not enough".

In an upcoming post, I think I'll explore some of the things I've learned from my own past yarnography mistakes and who knows, maybe I will apply those lessons to the yarn I still have in my stash (which is most of it) to see if I really have learned anything.

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Footnotes

*The shopping is actually mostly in check now and has been for a couple of years.  The yarn stash though has not shrunk significantly due to low knitting mojo.  But I'm sure I'll have much more to say on yarn stashing another day.