IT IS DONE.

At long last, my 1959 Vogue Knitting dress is finished!! There haven't been many other projects whose completion has brought me so much relief and joy. I honestly thought this one might be the straw that broke the camel's back and derailed me from my century project and languished forever as an unfinished object, but I made it. It was definitely a slog. At the end, though, I have to say that I am pretty pleased with how it all turned out. It was such fun to put it all together today and try it on.

I started this dress back on 25 August 2017. It was finished on 27 January 2019. Let's see if I can remember enough to recap some of my process!

I chose the pattern from the Fall/Winter 1959 issue of Vogue Knitting magazine with the idea of challenging myself to a bigger knit. I located some black wool crepe yarn from Made in America Yarns and ordered 4 cones, figuring that I would need to work with a double strand to get gauge. I experimented with different needle sizes and eventually settled on a size 4, which gave me a suitable gauge: 13 sts is about 2" wide and one full 6-row pattern repeat is about .75" high.

I chose the lacy black dress on the left!

I made the pattern's size 14, casting on 243 sts for each half of the skirt. I opted for 150 rows to get to about 20" in length so that the dress would be about knee-length on me. That's a little shorter than the recommended 27", which I think would have been a bit too long for me. This part of the process was very slow going. The pattern was easy to memorize once established, but, boy did it ever take forever. The skirt is knitted in front and back sections and then seamed together. Once I sewed the first seam, it became really clear that I had A LOT of knitted fabric to deal with. Here's the skirt laid out on our futon!

The top was a little easier to tackle. I again selected the size 14 specifications, but added a few inches to the body length (10" total). I found it very hard to manage increasing and decreasing within the pattern on the back, so I decided not to add any shaping to the lower front. I also opted to lengthen the the armholes slightly. For the sleeves, I went for the largest size so that they would fit into my slightly expanded armholes. Weirdly, there are no conventional shoulders on this top. It's really just a wide, straight neckline that connects directly to the sleeves. It was a little fiddly to put together, but the fit was just right when I finished.

The black lace was super hard to photograph!

I made a few modifications on the finishing. I did two rows of single crochet around the neckline, which was just enough to pull it together and finish the raw edges. The pattern recommends adding single crochet to the sleeves as well, but I really liked the pretty scalloped edge, so I decided not to straighten them out with the crochet border. I did add several rows of crochet to the waist on the skirt to help bring it in closer to my waist size. Since it was still so voluminous, though, I decided not to attach it to the top. I know that means it's technically not a dress, but I do think the two pieces will be more versatile as separates. Going back to the skirt, I thought I'd go with a gathered waist instead of the elastic-and-zipper waist in the pattern. Honestly, after I did a fair bit of crochet on the waistband, I just ran a sturdy cotton tape through the holes in the crochet and made it a drawstring waist. I knew this would all be hidden under the belt. It works just fine.

With photographer Sam's apologies for my cropped head!

I put it all together this morning, along with a wide black belt from my closet. At first, I wasn't sure about the skirt. It just seemed a bit...bulky. And then I realized what it needed. A PETTICOAT. And that was it! That gave the skirt some body and structure and made it so much more fun to wear. And what a great '50s silhouette! I did my best to recreate the model's pose from the original magazine, too. Arthur the Dog joined in on the fun!

I'm really pleased with the way this turned out. And that's a major relief considering just how much knitting went into it. I'm looking forward to wearing this out and about sometime soon. Stay tuned for my foray into '60s knitting next. It's probably not going to be a dress.

Specs

Yarn: Made in America Yarns' Wool Crepe in black

Amounts: about 3 cones total (I held two strands together)

Needles: size 3

Hook: size E

Started: 25 August 2017

Finished: 27 January 2019

Still knitting the dress...

My last post was in October 2017. In the time between then and now, I've managed to start and get several inches into the 1950s dress I selected for my next knit. And then I hit the pause button and stepped away for some projects that take precedence: gifts and special requested items for some of my favorite (and very knit-worthy) people.

I made my brother a sweater for Christmas, hoping that it would be easier and nicer to wear than the heavy, oversized, and just plain overwhelming one I made for him 10+ years ago. I think I did better this time. The pattern was a simple top-down raglan (from this sweater calculator) in beautifully soft and rustic Peace Fleece worsted in the "Father's Grey" colorway. It went on immediately after being unwrapped, so I think it was a hit.

Since we had a supremely cold and wintry December and early January, I was craving a warm thing to wear in the house all the time, so I picked up the souvenir yarn I bought last spring during our trip to Vancouver and Victoria, BC. The two skeins of Hinterland "Range" were just begging to be worked into a squishy, warm, high-contrast brioche cowl, which is what they became. I used Purl Soho's pattern here. So satisfying.

I also made a soft hat and a pair of socks for my husband, who has been wanting such things for years. The hat, knit in Malabrigo worsted, replaces a slightly scratchy one made with Lopi several years ago. The socks are the first of their kind in his wardrobe. I had resisted making him socks for a long time because...well...because my feet are small and that means socks are a quick and easy project. Plus, I like them in bright colors and unusual patterns But, socks for Sam would be a very different project: no fun colors or crazy patterns and leg and foot would both need to be significantly larger than I usually knit. But, he found a nice pattern (Athos by Caoua Coffee) and I had some suitable yarn, so I jumped it. And they're really nice. The pattern was fun and simple without being boring and they really didn't take much longer than socks for me.

After those fun breaks, I'm back into the 1950s dress. One half of the skirt is now done and I am plugging away on the other half. I try to hit 12 rows per day (that's 243 stitches per row, so nearly 3000 stitches per day) and that's pretty attainable if I don't have anything planned in the evening. Unfortunately, free weekday evenings have been few and far between lately. I'm on row 66 of 150.

I'll get there eventually and then I can start making plans for my '60s knit. The other day, I saw a marvelous vintage cabled mohair sweater with a wide turtleneck at the local flea market. It was soft and light and had a great '60s silhouette. And it looked like such a quick knit, too! Something like that might be just what I need after this dress.

Mid-century

It's bright and crisp where I am today so, naturally, my thoughts turn to knitting. I made a couple unrelated knit items this summer: a pair of plain everyday socks for myself, which I've already worn a couple of times, and a stuffed octopus for my nephew on his second birthday.

The octopus (or ott-pus, as he says) was great fun. My sister-in-law discovered Joan Rowe's Omniscient Octopus pattern, which is an impressive feat of knitterly engineering. It was engaging to knit and full of great true-to-like details, like a siphon and dozens and dozens of suckers. I used a self-striping sock yarn and enjoyed the overall variegated effect from leg to leg, which are knit separately and fed onto one circular needle, meaning that there is pretty minimal seaming to be done at the end. The head is knit up directly from the top of the legs.

 

I opted to leave out the chenille stems in the legs to ensure maximum cuddliness for my nephew. When he opened up the gift, he immediately said, "Ott-pus!" I call that a complete success.

After finishing the ottpus, I knew it was time to get back into my century project, so I started to take a look at my 1950s patterns. This is where my personal collection expands exponentially. I have dozens and dozens of '50s booklets from all sorts of sources: my grandmothers and great aunts, yard sales, antique shops, friends...the works. I knew I would have to narrow down my selection somewhat, so I decided to focus on a sub-collection: my newly-acquired Vogue Knitting mags.

These are wonderful publications, chock full of classic patterns that also easily evoke midcentury fashion trends. The sheath dresses, fitted suits, dressy tops, and travel wear, often photographed on location in fabulous places around the world, are all so sleek and elegant.

I paged through my mini-collection a couple of times, finding myself drawn to the dress patterns over and over. I worked up my personal knitting courage and decided to commit to a dress for my 1950s project. After all, I had learned that Consuelo, the woman to whom these books originally belonged was a fearless knitter and had herself knit dresses along with dozens of sweaters for friends and family members. Here she is below, looking so cool as she works on a circular needle all the while keeping a foot on the tiller of her sailboat. The best of multi-tasking! Thanks to Consuelo's daughter Robyn for sharing this fabulous photo with me.

With that, it was decided. A knit dress was in my future. After selecting one with a long full skirt and a wide-necked short sleeve top, I took a look at the instructions, realizing rapidly that the size 1 needles and hundreds of beads required were a bit beyond my desires for this next project (it wasn't obvious in the pattern photo, but the top was both cabled and beaded). So...perhaps that particular dress was not the one in my future.

I eventually settled on a slightly less-involved pattern, with a trimmer skirt and simpler stitch pattern. It's the one on the left in the two-page spread above: a knee-length black dress with an overall lace pattern. I'll be using size 4 needles and two strands held together of a wool/rayon crepe yarn, which I believe is quite similar to the original yarn specified in the pattern. My swatch is a dense springy mesh, to which the lace pattern brings great texture and the fiber blend lends good structure. I hope it will work up into a comfortable, fun garment. Stay tuned. My 1950s dress is underway.

Accepting the torch

Most of my friends and family members know that I collect old knitting patterns and they keep a good eye out for me. One time, a friend found a stack of 1930s and '40s booklets out with the recycling on a sidewalk and grabbed them for me. There were some gems in that stash for sure (more on that little collection when we get to my next project), including a single solitary cover of a fabulous Vogue Knitting magazine from the 1950s. Just the cover though. It was such a disappointment to discover that there were no pages attached.

A few weeks ago, another friend alerted me to a "free for the taking" ad on Craigslist promising a stack of 1950s and '60s Vogue Knitting mags, among other vintage booklets. Of course, this meant that I might be able to expand my Vogue Knitting collection beyond just the cover page that I then had in my stash. I saw that the ad had been listed for several weeks, panicked slightly, thinking that naturally someone else would have claimed the lot in the meantime (in my mind, of course, there's hot competition for old instruction booklets), and emailed the poster immediately. I sent along a link to my blog, explained the project, and hoped that I might be able to take home the mags. She wrote back right away and said that I could have them, adding that her mother would have thought the project a great idea.

That little comment was meaningful to me and clued me in to a couple of things. This wasn't an ad posted by someone looking to get rid of a few things that had randomly turned up in the attic. These books belonged to someone in particular. That someone was a knitter and these formed part of her stash. And knitters' stashes are personal. These points became even more clear when I met the poster, who described her mother to me as a "fearless knitter," someone who had traveled the world, become an accomplished artist, and knit dozens of garments for herself and her family. She showed me to the promised stack of knitting magazines and invited me to take a peek at them and several others that were not included in the original listing, including a long run of the Italian needlework magazine Rakam. There were bags of yarn on offer, too, and a sweet painted wooden lady (a wall hanging) with jointed arms and legs and a mini knitted swatch in her hands.

The stack.

It was great fun to look through everything and I ended up with a stack of booklets and magazines, one bag of wool, and the little wooden lady, who will be cute hanging up near my knitting supplies. At the same time, it was lovely to be able to learn about this other knitter and, figuratively speaking, take up her knitting needles.

I always feel this way when part of someone else's stash is added to my own. Joining their magazines or yarn to mine brings with it a sense of responsibility. I feel inspired to honor their creativity and curiosity. Passing the torch in this way keeps the craft alive and vibrant, keeps its roots visible, maintains my connection to generations of knitters going back over the years. Of course, it's easy to feel this way when I pick up a pattern book that belonged to my grandmother, but I feel it, too, when I knit with yarn that belonged to a friend of a friend who has passed away or when I take a look at some of these fabulous mid-century suits and dresses in my "new" Vogues and wonder if their previous owner ever made one.

Incidentally, it turns out that she did indeed make dresses and other similarly impressive feats of knitting. I was lucky enough to be able to take one of these incredible garments home. And it even fits! It is a truly fabulous full-length, high-necked, long-sleeve Fair Isle dress made of the gauziest mohair in luminescent greens and blues. It is incredible. It is all hand made. And it is super warm. I love it. There is just so much knitting and care and work in it. My apologies for the slightly blurry photo; I'd like to think that part of it is due to the halo of the mohair, but it's more certainly due to the fact that I am standing on tiptoes to show the full length of the skirt. Without my shoes on, I'm just a little too short!

I'll have details soon on my next knit from the 1940s. And hopefully some preview pictures of possible 1950s projects from my new Vogue Knitting magazine.

Meanwhile...

I couldn't resist sharing a few things I discovered on a recent jaunt to some of southern Maine's antique malls. I picked up two vintage pattern booklets. One from 1939:

It's full of fabulous sweaters and some pretty wonderful photography. Some photos feature everyday scenes, like this one (love the kerchief):

Others are somewhat stranger, like this elegant woman with her super-sleek hair and sweater and that incongruous bunny. I think the designers were trying to make a point about the angora yarn used in the sweater, but I'm not convinced that it was the right call.

I also found a booklet of small projects from 1942. There are items for everyone in the family, from lacy collars and bedjackets for Mom to sweater vests and socks for Dad and plenty of projects for the kids, too (think stuffed dolls and woolly accessories).

I also nabbed a couple of magazines from the 1950s:

Woman's Day dates to August of 1953 and Modern Needlecraft is from Fall 1956. This particular issue of Woman's Day does not have many knitting patterns, just a three-way interchangeable sweater set, but it is absolutely full of articles about cooking, home design, and fashion as well as ads, which are fascinating themselves. I find it so interesting to look through magazines like this with an eye to their design and layout. This sort of mundane, ephemeral history is so rich in detail. I especially enjoyed the article entitled "Will Your Child Visit The Moon?" and its accompanying instructions for making space helmets out of everyday household items:

 

Crafters could cut out the logo at the bottom of the page and paste it to the finished helmet, which would most definitely have taken a lot of time and patience (and glue!) to make. The construction diagrams in the "how-to" section are more like engineering plans than craft instructions.

As an aside, did you know that Woman's Day was the official store magazine of the A&P? I did not until I looked through this copy. That explains the abundance of grocery-related ads and the inexpensive cover price of 7 cents. According to Wikipedia, the magazine was first sold in stores in 1937 and had a circulation of 3,000,000 by 1944 and 4,000,000 in 1958 when A&P sold the magazine to Fawcett Publications. It was sold a few more times and, of course, is still published today. There's a little history to consider next time you're waiting in the check-out line at the grocery store.

In contrast, Modern Needlework has a fifty-cent price and is loaded with knitting patterns for everyone, even the dog. I especially love this ad on the inside front cover. Look at that pair! Those stripes! That skiing sweater!

My last find was a card of unused vintage wooden buttons with a great Art Deco feel. I'll stash these away until I reach the '30s, I think.