Authors: Stephanie Pearl–McPhee
Knitting Rules! (18 page)
One time while I was knitting a swatch and complaining about it, my husband said, “Nobody's forcing you to do it, honey,” and I stopped and had a (rare) moment of clarity. He had a point. I choose to knit and I love it, even though some parts of it do make me want to rasp off my eyebrows with a nail file, and it's my choice to pursue it. I could do something else, something with no swatches, something like collecting spoons or vacuuming. Instead, I persist â the rewards are great.
Sometimes when I'm knitting I watch my hands very carefully. I highly recommend this. I've been knitting for a lot of years and I've made probably millions of stitches, but I can still be taken by surprise when I just sit and watch my hands. I'm astonished that they know how to
do this. That they can just knit along, making tiny little movements that are automatic and interesting. I watch the pointer finger on my left hand. If I were describing to someone “how to knit,” I'm sure she'd give up instantly when I told her what that finger is to do. It holds the next stitch in line, then moves it into position, then briefly touches the front of the stitch while the right needle is inserted, then spaces the remaining stitches and moves the next into line. It's so complicated and graceful, and I didn't even know I was doing it. (It's usually at this point that my awe and astonishment are replaced by a total lack of comprehension that I can be capable of this beautiful knitter-finger dance and then still be such a klutz that I regularly fall
up
the stairs, spill coffee, and break a glass a week, but I digress.) As I watch my hands do what they do, I realize that this is about gauge too, that this is why I have a different gauge from the knitter who knit the pattern or the knitter who thought it up, or the other knitters who have done this pattern. I am a unique knitter. Nobody does this exactly the way that I do, or exactly the way anybody else does, and that's the beauty of gauge. It makes us match someone we've never met who has a whole finger dance of her own that we've never even seen. Pretty cool.
Now I try to be a little more Zen about swatching and the math of knitting. It's an investment in my art, and, you know, knitting swatches is still knitting, and I like knitting.
The finger dance is the reason knitters will always revert to type. This means that if you're a very tight knitter and you decide to knit more loosely to correct your gauge, chances are you'll knit a sweater that begins loose (while you're focusing) and gets tighter as you relax back into your own, unique style. Better to go up a needle size than to try to change your style. Nobody knits the way you do, and that's worth embracing.
Eight Things to Know About Swatches
Swatches lie. There is no getting around this. You can knit a swatch and still have a gauge problem. This is partly because big pieces of knitting (like your sweater) behave differently from small pieces of knitting (like your swatch). It's also because when you knit stuff, the law of gravity comes into play. Once you get a sweater knit and hanging on a person, gravity begins to pull on it and you can get some pretty significant gauge surprises. There are also laws of knitting that become a factor. The one I believe is involved with gauge is called the Element of Surprise. The way swatches lie is simply another one of knitting's little jokes designed to keep things interesting.
The bigger the better. Sometimes the things going on with gauge are subtle. (I'd say “naked to the human eye” but that sounds bitter.) The bigger your swatch, the more obvious the trouble. There's no magic size that reveals all flaws (except “actual size”), but I think you should aim to do more than just a couple of rows. Did I mention the lying? Don't cheat. No squashing, mushing, or stretching a swatch to make it work. Measure it exactly the way it is and suck it up if it's wrong. Ignoring a half stitch you don't want to believe is there is
almost as bad as the swatch lying, and the consequences are the same.
Always wash a swatch. Some pretty funky things can happen to yarns when they hit water, and you don't want surprises when those funky things happen to a sweater that took away 60 hours of your life. Wash a swatch the way you'll wash the finished item.
Don't expect a swatch to be an absolute. I can't overemphasize the possibility that you'll do everything right and you'll still have a gauge problem. The only perfectly accurate gauge swatch is one knit to scale.
Gauge isn't used just to match the tension of the pattern. It's also a way to affect the way your knitting looks and feels. Are you knitting a scarf and it feels too stiff? Go up a needle size or two and give it more drape. Use gauge to fine-tune your knitting.
Even if you “get gauge” when you substitute yarns, there may be other changes. Using a yarn of a texture or fiber different from the original can make things very, very different from what you planned. Gauge isn't the only thing that matters. Use your instincts.
You're going to meet knitters who tell you row gauge doesn't matter and that they ignore it. They may be right. They may be wrong. Until I can figure that out for myself, though, I'm going to pay a little attention.
Swatches lie. (It bears repeating.)
Hats
H
ATS ARE A WONDER
and a gift and the best thing you could ever choose to knit. I know I'm making a firm statement there, but I can say it quite honestly because I'm not knitting one right now and I have the clarity of distance. I understand you may not feel the same love for hats that I do if you have one glaring at you from your knitting basket; if that's the case, perhaps you'll see my point if you come back to this chapter sometime when your arse is being kicked by a shawl instead.