1940s Preview

Welcome to the 1940s! Sweaters and knitting get a little more political during this decade as patterns emerge for conserving scarce supplies of yarn, making do with odds and ends, creating useful items for soldiers (the same homefront trend appeared during WWI and the Civil War), and wearing visible signs of victory. The 1940s is also the first decade that is very well represented in my pattern collection. I have quite a few booklets from which to work and have already knit two 1940s patterns: one for my husband that I love and one for myself that was a little less successful. A couple years ago, I made this Victory Vest for Sam:

It's a 1942 design with a pattern of tiny slip-stitch Vs all over the fronts, not to mention some pretty irresistible knitterly details like the three built-in pockets, the polished look of the button band, and the shaping on the lower ends of each front. I thoroughly enjoyed making this vest (and will admit to some relief that it didn't call for sleeves). The shaping and slip-stitch colorwork were fun and the fiddly finishing was time consuming, but so very satisfying. And Sam wears it all the time.

The 1942 pattern booklet for the "Victory Vest." Keep an eye on that cigarette, folks. It'll be an essential accessory for male knitwear models for decades!

And here's my other foray into 1940s knitwear:

This is "Versatile" from the 1946 Columbia Style Book, vol. 108 (pictured below). I like to imagine that the model in the photo on the right is dreaming about what it might be like to wear this sweater against a background of a grill, a yard-waste bucket, and a dog. Answer: it's pretty sweet. I'm fairly mixed in my opinion of the finished project. I like the shaping and style of the sweater, but it's just a little too big on me for complete satisfaction. It's tough to see in the photo, but it's a little baggy along the side seams and so doesn't quite have the same sleek glamour as the original photo, though I have successfully worn it a few times.

So, it's time for my official 1940s project for this current challenge. We're now solidly into the realm of fine gauge, fingering weight sweaters. I skirted the issue for a little while in my earlier decade sweaters. When no gauge is provided and you have to reverse calculate a stitches-per-inch figure using the original stitch numbers in the pattern and your own body measurements, you can get away with using a heavier yarn that the pattern writers probably intended. But, once we hit the 1930s and '40s and yarn companies started adding in those helpful details (like gauge and needle size and modifications for different finished garment sizes, etc), it's harder to avoid those skinny yarns. Don't get me wrong: I absolutely love the look and feel of a lightweight sweater knit on size 2 needles, but they do tend to take a little longer to make.

I took a leisurely browse through my 1940s booklets and identified a few potential projects.

Name, Please! Can you say "bombshell" with that partial zipper and deep V-neck? The embroidered initials seem so much a hallmark of the era, too.

A Little Something on the Side. I adore the off-center buttons and almost military styling of this otherwise simple cardigan.

Lumberjacket. So practical for work or housework. The tiny buttoned pocket and collar are great features, too.

Block Cable Cardigan. There's something about those interrupted block cables that looks so vintage and cool to me. And I really like the zipper and peplum.

Remember my personal goals for this project from a couple posts ago? When I said that I wanted something made of a natural fiber, ideally without buttons and miles of crochet finishing? Ha! It's true that all of these can easily be made with wool and there is not much, if any, crochet edging in them, but look at all those buttons! And the ones without buttons have zippers!! Well...two out of three ain't bad.

I love that all four options have crisp lines and a fitted structure. I also like the menswear inspired details, like the collars, the buttoned pocket, and the off-center buttons. All look very '40s. I polled my friends and early results showed a clear preference for "Name, Please," although "A Little Something on the Side" had a great late boost and probably would have won if I hadn't already decided to go with "Name, Please," which was published in Sweatertime: Around the Clock by the Oregon Worsted Company in 1942. My copy of this booklet was given to me by a friend who found it in a stack of other patterns out with the recycling.

I've chosen a gorgeous Maine yarn for my "Name, Please;" it's JaggerSpun sock yarn in raw umber (I absolutely love it). I toured their Springvale mill recently and thoroughly enjoyed learning about the spinning process. The staff was so very kind and informative. I highly recommend a visit if you can get there. If not, grab some yarn when you see it around. I think you'll really like it. This is entirely my own honest opinion. I haven't been paid in either yarn or money to say such things.

And so, I'm off! My size 2 needles are clicking away. 

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.

1930s: Complete

Well, I didn't get the pose just right and I didn't have the appropriate statement necklace, but my 1930s metallic cocktail jacket is complete! I'm thrilled. Not only is it a great feeling to have finished what has been a painfully slow project, it's also a welcome break for my hands and fingers. The metallic yarn was harsh on my skin and the matte gray yarn was splitty and annoying, but it was all worth it. I love the result. The puffed sleeves, the metallic smocking, the solid yoke...a great 1930s look.

And I'm pleased with the fit, too. It's close-fitting and tailored without being too tight, the sleeves are well-engineered, and the buttons work without too much gapping.

The pattern was solid, too: clear, detailed, well-written, and mistake free. I made just a few modifications, including adding 2" to the overall length and reducing the number of cast-on stitches for each front from 63 to 50. My gauge was just a little larger than recommended and, after knitting and measuring the back, it was clear that I'd need a few fewer stitches to do the job. I'm glad I did. Sticking with the original instructions would have led to a sweater that was a bit too big. Other than those two points, I changed nothing!

Construction-wise, this was a pretty standard knit. One back, two fronts, and two sleeves, all knit from the bottom up. The seams were easy to sew and the busy surface design means that the seams are virtually invisible despite mismatched patterns on the different pieces. Just like my first two decade sweaters, there is a lot of crochet finishing in this. The sleeves, neck, fronts, and lower hem are all finished in a few rows of single crochet. In fact, the buttonband and buttonholes are done in crochet. So, that took a long time, but it does provide nice stability to the edges and a polished finish. I chose simple black hemispherical plastic buttons and I think they're just right and in keeping with the original pattern recommendations.

The next step for this sweater is to find somewhere to wear it! I'll be delving into my 1940s pattern books next to see what I can find. After this one, though, I have a few personal goals for my next project:

1. Must be made of a natural fiber.
2. Maybe no buttons for a change?
3. No crochet edging!

Specs

Yarn: Massive mystery skein of dark gray cotton (?) and cone of silver metallic synthetic

Amounts: I still have a lot of each left

Needles: size 2

Crochet hook: necessary, but I don't remember the size

Started: 2 October 2016

Finished: 19 February 2017

Blizzard update

Two feet of snow over the past two-and-a-half days means that I've found lots of time for knitting and have finally made substantial progress on my 1930s metallic Cocktail Jacket. This has been a really slow project from the beginning. Size 2 needles and smocking means that a lot of time and labor goes into each inch of length.

The back was completed a while ago; both fronts were fairly quick and easy after the expanse of the back. Sleeve the First was larger and more labor-intensive than I'd anticipated (though I don't know why as that's always the way with sleeves). It looked huge as I was knitting it, so when I finished it I decided to start assembling the sweater the make sure the sleeve worked and fit well before tackling Sleeve the Second. The seams were a little awkward to sew up due to the different textures of the yarn and the uneven edges caused by the stitch pattern. Luckily, the busy-ness of the surface camouflages any areas of mismatching seams. Sleeve the First fit in beautifully and has a sturdy enough structure to hold up a substantial puff at the shoulder. It took a couple tries to set in the sleeve evenly, but I think I've got it now.

Apologies for the blurry photo, but it's dark and snowy here.

I've already cast on for Sleeve the Second and hope to have it finished within the next few days. After setting that in, I'll start with the crochet edging around the cuffs, neck, buttonbands, and lower hem. Getting so close to completion!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! A few somewhat-related tidbits today:

1. I have now worn my 1910s sweater to work (when I wrote my last post, I mentioned that it hadn't been cold enough yet, but that has certainly changed). I wore it with jeans and it was really cozy and comfortable and I didn't need to wear a coat that day. I think my coworkers enjoy my vintage sweater habit, too, and they both seemed to like this one.

2. My 1930s cocktail jacket is growing bit by bit. It is pretty slow going in the smocked sections, but I've reached the yoke on the back now. I really do love that metallic element in the design.

My two mystery yarns: a smooth matte gray and a crinkly silver metallic

I've started the yoke.

I hesitated for a little while before starting the yoke. As I mentioned in my last post, the pattern calls for both yarns to be held together for the metallic sections, but mine are too hefty for that, so I opted to use the metallic by itself instead, which means that my metallic sections are a bit more sparkly than the original pattern intended. I briefly considered knitting the yoke in the gray instead of the silver, but ultimately decided to stick with the pattern and make it metallic. It's really quite sparkly. I hope it's the right choice.

3. I was desperate for some more immediate knitting satisfaction during December (surely a side effect of the infinitesimal pace of the Cocktail Jacket), and so I made one hat for myself and another for my nephew. I also made him a Christmas sweater with a super cute built-in scarf collar.

4. Today, I picked up a cute 1980s angora and wool sweater from Portland's Flea-for-All. It's blue and white with a pattern of moons and stars across the top (adorable) and puffed sleeves. I really like it, but it has a few little wear spots and needs some TLC before I can wear it. I do love "rescuing" vintage knits. That's my project for the afternoon and then it's back to the Cocktail Jacket.

It's metallic

It's finally sweater season here, which means that I'm actually wearing some of my past creations. The 1900s and the 1920s sweaters have both gone to work a few times, but it hasn't been cold enough yet for the 1910s. I envision that particular sweater coming in handy for watching hockey games or going on winter walks. It's no lightweight.

Meanwhile, I'm knee-deep in the 1930s. I have a fair number of 1930s pattern booklets and, boy, do I love them. Check out the two pictured above. A friend found the "Crocheted Dresses" book out on the street (yep, like trash!) with a stack of other vintage patterns and very kindly rescued it for me. I adore the styles and patterns, but the idea of making an entire dress out of crochet just fills me an intense feeling of foot-dragging reluctance. Also, I think I'd incur some pretty serious tendinitis. I think I get too tense and nervous when I'm crocheting and so my hand and wrist hurt after a while. In any event, the dresses are fabulous, but not for this project. The mittens are also wonderfully sharp and crisp in their classic black and white designs, but the deal here is sweaters. Maybe I'll make some mitts after I complete my century.

In addition to the two booklets above, I have a couple issues of "Home Arts Needlecraft" magazine from the '30s. I like these magazines because they provide good illustrations in a large format and a mix of articles about knitting and needlework plus pieces on contemporary fashion, cooking, and home design.  The "News Flashes--From a Needle-Minded New Yorker" columns are especially informative (two-fabric frocks! checks! vests! stripes! tatting! rick rack!).

Plus, the magazine was published right here in Maine (Augusta, to be exact). I have the November 1937 and February 1938 issues, which contain a few knitting patterns: one for adorable Scottie dog mitts and the two designs pictured below. Forgive my blurry image; I'm getting used to a new camera and now it's too dark to do re-takes. I came very close to selecting the lower sweater for my project, but had some concerns about that angled surplice-style front fitting correctly.

 

And that all brings us to this book from 1939, which you met several posts ago, following a little jaunt to some antique malls.

The great thing about this booklet is that it's got all of your fashion needs and situations covered. Heading out on a bike ride and looking for a cute wool top? Check.

Need something smart to wear to the Easter parade? Check.

Looking for that perfect knit item to complement the sweeping full-length skirt that you'll wear to the year's swankiest soiree? Check.

This is "Cocktail Jacket no. 124" and it's the one I chose, with some help from my husband. I liked the fitted look of it with the puffed sleeves and yoke and it's significantly different from my first three sweaters. It was hard to figure out the stitch pattern from the photo, so I read through the instructions several times. I couldn't quite picture what was going on, so I grabbed some needles and started swatching. Turns out, it's almost a smocked design: you knit a garter ridge to start, then several rows in stockinette, then another garter ridge, and then you knit back down into the first garter ridge to create a series of scallops or scales.

The best part, though? The original pattern calls for two types of yarn. One is " Fleisher's, Bear Brand, or Bucilla Angel Crepe," which, as far as I can tell, was a wool/rayon blend. The other is "Fleisher's or Bucilla Metal Thread." Yep. METAL THREAD. The pattern is worked with the two held together for the smocking sections and just the Angel Crepe for the stockinette sections, which means that the sweater has a super cool '30s metallic sheen to it.

And, in a near-miraculous stroke of stashing luck, I just happened to have a large cone of silver metallic yarn and a giant skein of steely gray yarn of indeterminate composition. I believe I purchased both at a deep discount. The gray skein was in the "seconds" section at a dye house as it has just a few areas where the color is slightly inconsistent, but, fortunately, these become invisible within the stitch pattern. It took a little while to achieve a workable gauge and I'm sure I'll be doing some math all the way through the project, but I think it will all work out.

The scalloped metallic design is fabulous. And time consuming. But mostly fabulous. I'm just about halfway through the back. Stay tuned.

Summer Break

After finishing off my 1920s sweater last month, I pulled out my '30s patterns, looked through them all at least twice, considered my options, and thought about which yarns to swatch. And then I took a break. Not just a break from knitting, but an actual vacation away from home and away from work. That hasn't happened for my husband and me for quite a little while. We spent a week camping on the shores of Lake Superior in Michigan's Upper Peninsula with extended family. It was great. I swam a lot, ate pasties, sampled local beer, hiked for miles and miles, sat around the campfire, marveled at the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, explored nearby towns, and just generally enjoyed my family's company for the week.

But, I didn't knit a stitch. I didn't even bring knitting on the trip. I did, however, stop by the Knitter's Niche in Marquette, where I met the supremely friendly and welcoming owner Trisha as well as Rose, the woman who raised the sheep that provided the wool for the squishy-soft, cozy-dense, oatmeal-colored skein of Shetland/CVM that I brought home. The sheep's names are Anna, Aurora, and Milik. It's a beautiful skein of wool. I see some cozy winter accessories in my future.

Speaking of winter accessories, that's about all I've made in the last several weeks. Once I've finished all my current projects and had a little break, it always seems to take some time to get a project going again. A friend was really excited about the new issue of Twist Collective, especially the Svartifoss pattern, which looks so temptingly different. We agreed on a knit along, but I'm pretty sure I started and finished without her. I opted for the Svartifoss mittens:

They're up on my Ravelry page with the knitting details and play-by-play. I found an error in the lace chart, so please check my project page for the fix before you get too far in making them yourself. I do love them. Although they are incredibly warm, they will be strictly dress mittens. No walking the dog or shoveling snow in these beauties.

Next up is a sweater for my little nephew and two pairs of custom Chucks and then I'll dive back into the 1930s. I have two new pattern booklets (gifts from a fellow knitter) to share soon, too.