A case for lace (weight)

Over the last decade or so, I have observed a dismaying trend in the yarniverse.  Take a moment to locate your nearest settee upon which to collapse and now get your pearls clutched.

Ready? Lace-weight1 yarns have been disappearing from shelves, never to reappear.  A number of my favourite stand-bys are now discontinued or dropped from the catalogues of many vendors and the one kind of lace weight I avoid as much as possible, the mohair blend, is often the lone lace weight on offer at any given yarn shop.

Is this a true crisis in the grand scheme of things? Probably not really. Has this calamity registered in the pysche of of the average knitizen? Probably not one iota.

Perhaps you haven’t noticed the dearth of lace-weight yarn because I’m totally imagining it, or, just as likely, you belong to the majority of handknitters, who do not knit with lace weight on the regular except maybe to combine a strand of mohair with an equally dear strand of premium yarn or two.2  Then again, you cannot knit yarn that you cannot buy for love or lucre.

I heard some time ago that lace weight was falling out of favour and hence, a number of yarn companies had started phasing it out and many indie-dyers did not consider the effort of wrangling 600-or-more-yard skeins worthwhile.3  If you’re anything like me, that sent chills down your spine.  Of course, there are other options for people who like knitting with tiny needles and working endless rows.  For instance, one can unravel commercially produced sweaters and rehabilitate the resulting yarn or combine strands from cones of superfine yarns spun for industrial knitting machines.  One can learn to spin.  But all that is going too far, even for the likes of me.  Besides, why steal the joy of shopping for a new hank of yarn from myself?   It ranks as one of life’s great pleasures.4

Pretty, right?

A bowlful of scrumptious lace weight yarns--most of them from the atelier of the super-talented and wonderful Julie Asselin. She has single-handedly kept me from the pits of knitting despair these last few years.

For a list of the yarns pictured above, please see footnote 5.

I do enjoy knitting at other gauges, but after decades of knitting, I seem to have found a sweet spot with lace weight yarn.  It’s not as if I did not appreciate the multitude of delightful pictures of people knitting blankets with their forearms (I did) or that I have any need or desire to wear lace shawls (I don’t).  I belong to a bygone era (spiritually speaking, since it is one that predates my birth) that prefers yarns that knit up at a tension greater than 8 stitches per inch.

Most people only think of knitting lace with lace weight but it doesn’t have to be.  Others will only knit lace weight if they own a standard gauge knitting machine but you don’t have to since needles smaller than 1mm exist and 2mm needles (my preferred size) abound. (Which has me wondering: if it’s so easy to find 2mm needles, why is no one apparently knitting anything with them?)

In all fairness, I do not know what the non-internet knitters are knitting but they don’t seem to be buying enough lace weight to make it worthwhile for yarn purveyors to sell it to me.  Except for mohair.6

I recognize that I cannot single-handedly bring back lace-weight yarn but allow me to make a case for its continued existence anyway.  You may still conclude that I’ve lost all contact with reality but perhaps you’ll consider some of my points.

  1. Entertainment value — If you compare the number of knitting hours to dollar ratio, you get far more out of 100g of lace weight yarn than say, 100g of worsted weight. I consider lace weight to be roughly 800 yards per 100g and worsted is roughly 200 yards per 100g, which makes lace weight about four times the fun. If you just want a final product fast, yes, go big. Or get a knitting machine, which, incidentally, is quite an awesome device and so much fun as well! (Once you conquer the learning curve, that is)

  2. Sustainability — If you still care, this fits right in with the whole slow fashion ethos, emphasis on the slow

  3. Wearability — Admit it, garments and accessories knit with lighter-weight yarn are more comfortable and more versatile to wear, especially if you like to layer. Ever notice how commercially knit garments and accessories mostly do not feature yarn thicker than a sport weight? I went through the super-bulky yarn phase and it was fun but I was younger and more determined to overcome the discomfort of not being able to fully lower my arms or bend my elbows

  4. Hand pain — As in, less of it. I have some nerve damage in my hand and I seem to have chronic wrist pain now that I’m old. Knitting with laceweight has been a mercy. Yes, yes, I was advised by multiple professionals to lay off the knitting and I mostly have but when I absolutely must pick up needles to soothe a (my) troubled soul, a lightweight project knit with very little strain on my hands is just the thing.[7]

  5. Stash volume — You could easily hit SABLE and your entire stash still fits in a single tote bin. That bowl of yarn pictured above will easily keep me knitting for years

  6. Portability — A lace weight project is very easy to pack and carry. It’s tiny and hardly weighs a thing

  7. $$ — The other, and perhaps more important value-add is the amount of money you would need to spend on a lace-weight project. This is of course dependent on multiple factors but 100-200g of laceweight will be all you’ll need for most anything you’ll knit at this weight. Compare this to a comparably-sized garment made with worsted weight yarn

My last point is possibly the least relevant to you unless you are absolutely desperate to knit the patterns I have not revealed anywhere,8 nearly all of which feature lace weight yarn--half of which have been discontinued and the other half may be facing extinction if the tide does not change. I’d rather not be stuck with a bundle of patterns that are designed for phantom yarn. But it seems I may be late to the party once again.

Nevertheless, I still have plans to publish my patterns over the coming months (or if past performance is any indication, years) and maybe my tiny plea for the lace weight category will be joined by other tiny pleas to create a sound heard by yarn shops and yarn producers that can’t be ignored.  My patterns are still likely to be, but that’s a different issue altogether.


Footnotes

1 When do you hyphenate "lace weight"?  Copilot gave me some contradictory instructions but I am attempting to follow them as best I can because damned if I know any better.  Copilot also adamantly insisted that "laceweight" is not a thing.  I beg to differ but, again, who am I to say?

2 Statistically, you belong to the majority, however, if you’re here reading this, I think that puts you squarely into micro minority territory so maybe you hear me and your alarm bells are clanging too...but still not likely

3 I think full-on lace shawls enjoyed their little resurgence with knitters back in the aughts but have fallen out of favour (except among the die-hards)—probably for another hundred years3a

3a I would worry about the pushback this tongue-in-cheek prediction would receive from the contingent of devoted lace knitters out there but then I'd have to have some faith that this blog hasn't lost all of its two readers in the last few years of complete radio silence

4 If one is a knitter or married to one

5 Nurtured Fine, by Julie Asselin. Colourway: Anémone
Merletto, by Julie Asselin. Colourway: Noir d’Encre & Licorice
Anatolia, by Julie Asselin. Colourway: Après La Pluie
Silky Alpaca Lace, by Classic Elite Yarns. Colourway: 2413 Night
Silkpaca, by Malabrigo. Colourway: Paris Night
Lacegarn Birdies, by Rohrspatz & Wollmeise. Colourway: Casablanca
I fully endorse the purchasing of lace weight yarn, whether indie or not.  Have at it!

6 By golly, the mohair. It photographs beautifully but its virtues end there. However, that isn’t going to stop me from exploring its uses for a pattern

7 Also, an egg timer to remind me to not knit for too long or else I may never knit again

8 Because that would require me to finish editing and we all know that is a task that is never complete(d)

(Not the Heisenberg) uncertainty principle

It took me a long while, but I eventually learned to never say never.  Things can change.  Circumstances, ideas, and above all, people, can change.  Or at the very least, if a person isn't opening her narrow mind to the infinity of possibilities, she can rephrase her sentiments.  For example, a knitter who would once emphatically proclaim: "I would never knit socks" might instead say something like, "I'm not really a sock knitter", thereby introducing the possibility, if not the probability that sock knitting might happen in her life.  Likewise, another knitter might have spent the last decade firmly entrenched in the belief that project monogamy was essential to that project's completion and also that any other path led straight into the abyss of eternal startitis.  Yet the turn of the new year has that knitter toying with the idea of starting all the projects all at once just to test the validity of that theory, because, hey, why not? and let's be honest, not a lot of knitting got done in all those years.

But that has nothing to do with me, I'm sure.

Let's talk about my recent knitting and the projects I have going.  In the fall, I cast off my first ever bona fide socks.  That's sort of a lie.  I have knit a pair of "cabin socks" as a gift and a lifetime ago, I knit a pair of hiking socks (that could stand on their own, which was helpful because no one was prepared to assist them).  What I have never knit until now is socks out of fingering-weight yarn, i.e., socks that were theoretically wearable inside a pair of shoes.  And now I have.

After that, another pair of socks happened because the first pair was supposed to have been for me but didn't end up fitting.  I learned that -10% ease is way too loose for my liking and in the interest of self-preservation, I just knit a longer foot and presented them to my partner, who also likes a snug sock.  Why waste a perfectly good sock toe and a few inches of stockinette by frogging, I asked myself.

It's a good thing I got over the frogging aversion because otherwise, this second pair would also not have fit me or any adult I know.  I'm glad I made the necessary changes because I'm pretty pleased with these socks!  It's only been in the last year that I really came to appreciate wool on my feet after randomly buying a pair of wool socks to make it to the free shipping threshold for an online order.  Am I about to become a sock-knitting addict?  Jury's out (buying more self-striping sock yarn).*

It didn't take me long to cast on another pair of socks, despite having already started multiple projects since 2018 got going.  Lest you begin to wonder, I am not really a sock knitter.  Really.

When I bought this skein of fingering weight BFL last year in this super-charming "Dalmatian" colourway by Ancient Arts (another fantastic Canadian dyer) it was to make a hat, but I tried casting on for a hat, ripped it out, started again twice more and finally concluded that this yarn just wanted to be socks.  Who was I to argue?

All this knitting has unfortunately caught up with me so to give my wrist flexors time to recover I'm taking a break from knitting and starting on my #2018makenine sewing projects.  (Aside from a couple home decor items, I haven't sewn in the last few years so this is really exciting for me.  Although, I'm not sure if the more exciting part is the fact that I now have a room in which I can actually do some sewing and not have to pack everything away at the end of the day so that we have somewhere to eat and can sit down without fear of getting stuck by errant pins.)  I happened across the Make Nine challenge for the first time just last month and I really loved the idea partly because it was like a year-long Summer of Basics** challenge and partly because following the #2018makenine tag on IG has provided a nice dose of sewing inspiration.  I've been out of the sewing game for so long that I'm pretty unfamiliar with what's been happening in terms of the range of independent pattern publishers and fabric sources available online.  Seeing what people are choosing for their Make Nine gives me a nice little snapshot of what's going on and I really enjoy seeing people tackling their projects with such enthusiasm and confidence.  I tend to hesitate for way too long before starting (or not starting at all) because I'm afraid of screwing something up or ending up with something that doesn't blow my mind away.  But disappointments will happen and it's just a part of making.  If I have any New Year's resolutions (besides the requisite commitment to stashdown and to start exercising regularly), it's to ignore the what-if-I'm-not-good-enough-fears that stop me from attempting things and just START already.

But, I'm a fan of baby steps.  My #2018makenine is pretty tame.  I have all the materials and patterns for nine projects that I'm totally stoked about making so I don't have to spend any time (or money) on acquiring stuff.  (Truly, I have all the materials and patterns for much more than this, but I think nine projects in a 12-month is plenty ambitious for me).  The projects I've chosen are not super-complicated, they are all things I really want in my wardrobe, and a few of them are already cast on or cut out.  (WIPs are fair game too, right?)  This means I've got way more projects in active rotation*** than I've ever had before.

It never occurred to me before this year that having several projects going at once might actually be more efficient if you are someone who is easily distracted when something about a task becomes frustrating or boring.  You just switch gears and pick up something else that's also on the go.  Something's getting done and it doesn't involve Train of Thought or mindless surfing.  (I used to think that if I didn't start working on an entirely different project, I still had every intention of tackling the project at hand and toiling through the difficult stages--so I would do something noncommittal, like play a game on my phone or surf, but it would be weeks before I came back to it because life only offers you so many hours to spend on a hobby.)  Which is why I'm experimenting with starting multiple projects without finishing something first.  I can't deny that this feels a bit like skipping dinner and raiding the dessert table.  Which is to say, I'm really enjoying this strategy at the moment but I fear there may be consequences.


Footnotes:

*My first two pairs of socks were knit with Striped Turtle Toes by Turtlepurl Yarns, an independent Canadian dyer based in New Brunswick.  The first colourway is "Beekeeper" which I purchased at The Knit Cafe and the second is "Comic Strip" which I found at Eweknit (both are fantastic shops in Toronto, but if you are not in Toronto, Turtlepurl's Etsy shop is well stocked).  I think I may have given this whole sock knitting thing a whirl because I enjoyed these self-striping colourways so much and I needed an excuse to buy them.  Not exactly in keeping with my stashdown goals, I know, but my guilt is somewhat assuaged by the fact that I knit two pairs of pretty fun socks as a result.

**My Summer of Basics wasn't exactly a success or a failure but it did get me to narrow down the infinite list of possible projects and I actually started (and completed!) a couple of projects.  A real triumph for a perpetual procrastinator.

***This is not to suggest that I never had a huge pile of WIPs languishing in a corner.  However, if I ever put aside a project to start something new, I had pretty much sentenced it to permanent exile.  If it didn't get frogged or chucked, it's still sitting in a box somewhere.  (Sorry, Mom.  I really do mean to come by and deal with those.)