Wednesday, February 27, 2008
A few years ago I wandered into the Wool Mill in Toronto.
It was early in the spring & I was in the mulligrumps - hated school, had all sorts of exams and deadlines, flat broke, lots of bad news on the horizon sort of day. Not really the best of all days to go into a yarn store but I think I was probably intending to get some sock needles. Something innocent. Harmless (unless provoked). Not Expensive.
But because I was blue, I was weak.
The Wool Mill has a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
The "that" was Fleece Artisit "Country Mohair".
It was glowing in the afternoon sunlight,
sheening skeins and the slight halo that suggested softness
seducing you to touch its slinky silkiness,
looking like coiled serpents. They slithered to the touch,
slipping across my fingers, freshly dyed
and with a cool dampness and the slightly acid smell of vinegar.
It could have held out an apple.
My senses must have departed me because I bought not one
but two skeins. At thrity dollars each. Plus applicable sales tax.
At home, I draped the rainbows over my bookshelf.
So that I could admire the riot of colours.
One day, when the exams were done, the days were warmer but the nights still cool,
I took courage and wound up a skein into a ball.
I played with it, to see if it would "talk" to me,
because I didn't have a specific pattern in mind.
A shawl or a wrap?
I didn't like the way the colours fell, I couldn't get the rhythm of them.
Different stitches only succeeded in looking chaotic.
I put it away.
It left wisps of mohair everywhere.
I took it out again. Maybe it needed a friend?
I pulled out some other yarns.
I played with different solids, different textures to complement the shades.
It seemed to overpower everything
& it left wisps of mohair everywhere.
I put it away.
It would haunt me every time I brushed past it.
Taunting me, it would say, "You don't know what to do with me, do you?"
I began to suspect I had made an error in judgment.
Could I use it to make mittens?
If only the fibres didn't come off so easily.
Funny I should be bothered by that,
because I frequently am adorned with a dusting of cat hair.
I should just give it away - someone else can figure it out.
But it is so silky soft, so rich in hue,
and I paid sixty dollars for it.
It humiliated me.
I checked the Fleece Artist website,
maybe there was a pattern for it.
The yarn was discontinued.
Somehow, that did not surprise me.
And then I read this:
Mohair Minisweater Monstrosity
I am not the only person on the planet who thinks this yarn is a pain in the bum!!
Cyn at Half-Asssed Knit Blog has inspired me to give this yarn what it deserves.
It must be walked upon, trodden, dominated, subdued.
It is soft. It is colourful.
It is heavy and it sheds like a bitch.
I don't think it is a particularly versatile yarn, EXCEPT it will keep feet warm. It can do that. And polish the floors at the same time. Part of me SCREAMs that something so expensive & fine as mohair should be treated this way, but this is no ordinary mohair. Oh yeah, verily, redemption is at hand. Or Foot.
The colourway reminds me of something...hmm... tie-dyed t-shirts and outdoor music festivals. Like, Cosmic, whoa. The photos don't do it's primary psychedelic wow-ness justice. I have to make another one to match. And I will still have more than a skein left. The colours almost tricked me into making a hat. But I know it will generously scatter fibre on the neck and shoulders of the hapless person who dares to wear it. No, more slippers, ex$pen$ive $lipper$....
And just maybe I'll full them.