How to stop your knitted hem from flipping up.

This is a total bugger when it happens. You are knitting, or you've finished knitting, and you notice that you have the flip. So what to do? I have a couple of tricks that I thought you might like.

Let's start with why it happens.

The basic reason is a change in tension between the two types of knitting, whether this is a ribbed hem or a garter hem.

When you rib you end up with more fabric than when you knit stockinette. Think about the process of making a rib. In between each "rib" you need to switch from knitting to purling and each time you do that you move the yarn from the front to the back (or vice versa) before making the next stitch. That means you have a tiny sliver of "extra" yarn between each stitch (for k1p1 rib) or two stitches (for k2p2 rib). The tiny sliver of extra yarn means as you end up with more yarn and therefore more fabric than if you were to knit the stitches in stockinette. The extra fabric causes the rib to flare, and at the point at which you change from stockinette to rib it flips.

It is all about tension. Change the tension, cause a flip.

It can happen with other stitches like garter too. When you go from a garter hem to stockinette you change the tension in the fabric. (To fix a flipping garter hem I normally use one of the first two tricks below. Whereas to fix a flipping rib hem I might use any of the three.)

The flip is pretty much only a hemline thing, rather than a sleeve thing or a neckline thing. That is because on both a sleeve and a neckline you have the extra tension, created by the body position in reference to the sweater, that means that flipping isn't such an issue. The only exception I have really found is on a loose fitting sleeve. (In which case I use one of the first two tricks below.)

Anyhoo, the whole problem is annoying but really fixable provided you are willing to experiment and rip a row or two here and there.

How do you stop it.

I often combine more than one trick.

The main thing you need to do is to decrease the amount of fabric in your band. You can do this using Trick 1 and Trick 2. Both of these methods decreases the amount of yarn/fabric you have in the band thereby pulling it in a little and decreasing the hem's desire to flip.

Trick 3 is specifically for rib hems. It involves altering the tension at the change point by reducing the amount of fabric at the point of the flip by slipping the knit stitches of the rib.

This hem was tamed by simply changing engaging with Trick 2.

Trick 1: Decrease the number of stitches

You decrease the number of stitches by doing a k2together every few stitches [k2tog kX] across the row on the last row of stockinette or the first row of rib ( for a top down sweater) or on the first row of stockinette (for a bottom up sweater). This is part art and part science.

There are no rules to exactly what the repeat should be. I vary my repeat from a [k2tog, k8] which was often the recommendation by Elizabeth Zimmerman right down to a [k2tog k3] for a straight sleeve. 

How do I figure it out? I often try something, see what it looks like, and rip it out if it isn't tight enough or is too tight. So get started by choosing a repeat in between and try it.

Rib Band: I often do [k2tog k8] when going into a rib band because the very nature of the rib is that it pulls inwards. Sometimes this still isn't enough to pull the band in when going to garter.

Garter Band: The last sweater I made was a Granny's Favourite (which has garter bands) and I did it on the sleeves and the hem. I think I did a [k2tog k3] for the sleeve which sounds like quite a big decrease but it actually worked very well. I may have made it [k2tog, k4] for the body....

Please note that it does not matter whether the repeat fits into the number of stitches you have on the needle. Just keep doing the repeat till you get to the end of the row.

Trick 2 - Decrease the needle size

This is often used in patterns for hat bands or sweater bands but I also often use it even if the pattern doesn't recommend it. For example often my finished Granny's Favourites end up with stretched out necks because of rough-and-ready small girl children. So I always knit the neck band on a 3.5mm or even a 3.25mm band to make it a little smaller. This example obviously isn't about a flip but it has the same principle in that we are trying to reduce the amount of fabric created for the band. I often also do it for bands at the bottom of sweaters.

Trick 3 - Slip Stitches

This is a trick that works really well with a rib band. I generally use this one one where I am shifting from a rib band into stockinette - so bottom up sweaters. On the change row, rather than just knitting the whole row, I slip each of the knit stitches and then knit all the purl stitches. I have used this trick on both a k1p1 and a k2p2 rib band. The flip doesn't happen because you are changing the tension by making it tighter at the flip point with all the slipped stitches.

A non flipping hem. That I am happy with. Near enough is good enough and completionism rather than perfection. I adore this jumper.

You can still see the tension change between the band and the body as it dips in. This could be the result of taking out too many stitches....?

An Example - James III

James III is the sweater that inspired this post. I got to the end of knitting it and finished the band only to block it and realise that the flipping (which sometimes will block out!) was extreme. I ripped the band out, put the zillion stitches back on the needle and started again. I did a combination of Trick 1 and Trick 2. I changed my needle size from a 3.75mm to a 3.25mm on the first row of rib and also did a repeat of [k2tog, k1, p2, k2, p2] which means that I decreased one stitch every 9 which is roughly 10%. It isn't perfect but it is much much better.

I'm happy to answer questions if you have them? And would love to hear if you have any other tricks you use?

And if you don't then here is wishing you a hem-flip-free future.

Felicia x

Bitch to Knit, Joy to wear.

There is a certain classification of knitting that holds a special place of angst in my heart - Bitch to knit, joy to wear - I think many of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. The knit you really want to make because you know it is a garment you will wear for years, almost every day, and yet the actual knitting of it makes you feel resentful every second stitch. Or even every single stitch.

It's a tactile thing. Horribly unenjoyable knitting can be different things for different people, however it is about the tactility of the process of this particular project, not agreeing with you as a person.

It could be that the yarn doesn't make your hands sing (but blooms wonderfully after blocking, damn you yarn) and the knitting doesn't have it's normal flow. For some projects it might be that the yarn sticks to the needles and others that it slips off them. It could be that the yarn is too heavy or too light to feel good for you, creating wind resistance or drag. It might be that the size of the needles you need to use for the project don't agree with your hands - too big, or too small - and you get aching fingers for no reason at all. Whatever the annoying tactile thing this project has going on it means that knitting it is a total bitch.

In my latest case of this phenomenon - I've decided to reknit Vitamin D without the flaps as it is my most worn sweater. I know you have seen it a zillion times on instagram. I just saw on Ravelry that I actually made it five years ago and I love it as much now as I did them. Making a second one in a different colour is an intentional thought-out decision based on the ideas I talk about in my post about Slow Fashion.

One needs garments like that in one's wardrobe - workhorses! I adore the shape and I need a cardy that is blue or grey and has that simple versatility to go with the bajillion blue/grey frocks I have. For days when the yellow is too yellow. It will be an everyday till it wears out garment and I can't wait to have it available to me.

The thing is that I'm knitting it in 5ply alpaca because 5ply alpaca is incredibly light and wearable in three seasons in Melbourne. But no matter how much joy I will feel wearing it, I absolutely hate knitting with it. It is terribly slow going which is always a bit demoralising, but as well as that, the alpaca slips on the needles and drags through the air. It is also a bit splitty which means that I have to look at what I'm doing* on the purl side every so often to make sure I'm not ending up knitting half the stitch. The whole process is simply bloody annoying.

Endurance is the name of the game with a project like this, and it's a good test of your determination to see if you can keep your eye on the prize. And even though I'm an incredibly big fan of the process of making, sometimes the process has little to recommend it at all. In this current case, I'm bribing myself with fun sewing as a reward when I get through a section - I just finished the yoke and as a reward made gym singlet from scraps - and then there is the promise that if I get this finished then I can move onto to something totally creative and fun. I'm going to finish the #oldschoolpattern as my big reward.

Sometimes, just sometimes, and definitely not often, the product alone is worth the angst.

Others might call it product knitting but my title feels a bit more in the spirit of the grind. I think you know just what I mean?

How do you deal with it? Strategies?

Felicia x

*Oh the horror.

Old school community.

A family bout of hideous gastro luckily ended just in time for me to head to the Bendigo Sheep Show a few weeks ago. I dutifully waited my 48 hours - ending Saturday night - which meant that I got to head up to Benders on the Sunday with two of my smalls on the quietest day of the show. We were chuffed to get to go this year, as we have missed the last few years, and it is a total treat.  Making that drive up the Calder is like stepping back into my childhood. All ironbarks and rocky ground.

I spent my formative years in a variety of towns in country Victoria. A few of those years were spent in a little town called Numurkah. My dad* was the local ambulance officer, and part of his ambulance job was to attend the local agricultural show. We kids got to go with him. Now, he is a friendly guy who loves a chat, which meant much chatting and hand shaking. It was a day that I looked forward to. Full of people and conversation. I remember the joy of being there and feeling like we were a part of something. Part of a group of people that had come together to share their year. It was community grounded in place.

As an aside I also remember that the best part of that special day was that one year we all got to ride home in the back of the ambulance totally freestyle. Ahhh the 80s. So unsafe but totally thrilling for a small kid.

Being at the Bendigo Sheep Show a few weeks ago reminded me of the feeling of being part of a country community. I felt the contrast between the life of my childhood and my life in the city. In a way there is less diversity in my city community in terms of age group, personality, values and type of people. Now don't get me wrong. I'm incredibly grateful for my community. They are generous, present and supportive, but these days my community has been created through friendships that have occurred by choice around shared values. We aren't thrust together in the same way that you are when you live in a small country town.

But being at the Sheep Show reminded me that there is something glorious to be said for a broader community. One that is more diverse and includes greater difference maybe? I can't put my finger on exactly what the difference is but I felt the richness in it. It was nice to be reminded of it and feel a part of it.

Now all that said, at the Sheep Show there were two distinct groups of people; the fibre lovers and the farmers. The outfits were totally different. Farmers wore polar fleece and the fibre lovers wore wool. It was like a uniform for both teams.

I took the kids in to watch the shearing for a bit, and the kind of community I was part of on that day long ago in Numurkah was clearly visible, farming families of multiple generations. Then we headed into the sheds selling the yarn and could clearly see the broader crafting community feeling the joy of being surrounded by likeminded souls.

Half Baked Hand Dyed - I was totally in love with their shell/cream/pink colour which is not even in this photo but trust me - so gorgeous.

Pirate Purls beautiful colours.

Beautiful yarn and knits from Great Ocean Road Mills.

More Great Ocean Road Woollen Mills goodness. I fell totally in love with their yarns. Didn't purchase obviously, but the love was there.

My kid purchased this with her pocket money from Great Ocean Road Mills. Her plan is to dye it with avocado and then knitting herself a scarf. Her process is one that takes time ....

My kid trotted around in her handknit cape that we found in an op shop, her cowl and playtime dress..... looking very much the child of a maker. She did photobomb many of my photos making them unusable. I'm sitting here trying to be forgiving. ;)

Beautiful Wild Nature Yarn - I can't find their webpage but look them up.

The biggest treat of the day was that Kylie from The Purl Box showed me a yarn colourway she had named for me after the first retreat. It was truly gorgeous Kylie x

Our only purchases were socks from the guild. There was a third kid/pair but there was too much wrestling to have all three in the one frame. #twoouttathreeaintbad#notasockknitter

I wore my Riddari so a couple of kind people recognised the sweater, and came up and said hi which I totally loved. I don't get to meet you lot very often, and so really I have no idea who it is that reads my rambles. It was a total treat for me, so thanks to you brave souls who introduced yourselves. x

Being at the sheep show on the weekend reminded me of how grateful I am to be part of this crafting community because in a way it is similar to the country community I grew up in. It's diversity is part of the joy; all ages and all types. There is space for our quirks and our crazy. Having a passion around craft means being able to strike up a conversation with women I don't know, who are decades older than me, in the queue and know that we share a connection.

This is something I love about the retreat as well. I never know who will be there and I can't wait to meet them. It's a group of women coming together around a simple shared understanding of the meaning, and the joy, of using our hands to create.

Felicia x

* not the photographer dad but my other dad - I'm lucky enough to have two.

One month till retreat time!

One month! Till we get to do it all again - and I can't wait. It is my favourite time of the year, watching everyone meet again or meet for the first time. The community and connection make it such a special space, I feel lucky to be part of it.

The next month will be a little busy for us - finalising what we need to finalise in order to make it the special weekend it is. But also this week we are going to release the Anna Maltz one day classes. I can confirm that we have classes organised in September for Melbourne, Country Victoria near Kyneton, Sydney and the Southern Highlands so far. So if you are interested in those then please join our mailing list. I'll send out all the details in the next few days and they will go on sale this weekend..... Yay!

As I'm sitting here listening to the pitter-patter of rain on the roof tonight, I'm updating the blog and feeling pretty bloody blessed. I'm adding the sponsor logos to the sidebar and feel so chuffed that the retreat is sponsored by such a gorgeous and generous group of businesses. All of these businesses value what we value - making and community - and I feel lucky that they make it so easy on me each and every year, supporting us to make the participants at the retreat (and readers of this here blog) feel that bit more special.

I would like to welcome back past sponsors Sunspun, Tessuti, the Fabric Store and Assemblage. And welcome Miss Matatabi, Stitch 56, Wool Days, Yulki's Home Decor, Maze and Vale and Circus Tonic Handmade. Truly big love and thanks to you all for your support!

One month to go my lovelies! I can't wait to welcome you back, or meet you for the first time. It is going to be super. And for all of you following along at home like last year we have a giveaway or two planned for you too! I know you will be with us in spirit.

Felicia x

I wish I could surf.

Over the last few weeks I've had something of a revelation. About surfing, and me not being able to surf, and about why that is. Even though since I was a small person, I've always wanted to try.

So there are reasons why I can't surf. Or so I tell myself. But mainly it's because I've never tried. How funny is that. The thing is that I think I've just understood why.

So let's get back to the reasons I tell myself.

For one, I grew up in the country and noone I knew surfed. We went camping at the beach for a holiday every few years, but our activities were restricted to swimming. Surfing wasn't even on the radar.

I always thought that it looked amazing. I loved the idea of the ocean. I loved the idea of sitting on a board on the ocean. The sun and the sparkle.

Surfing seemed to belong to the realm of what other people did. Other people. Other families. They did surfing. They looked like they belonged by the sea, and on a board. My family weren't what you would identify as sea people. We looked like country people, bush people.

Then there was other stuff. I wasn't a kid that loved sport at school. Always picked last for team sport,  my brothers used to say that when I ran I looked like a psychotic chicken. People that surfed were super fit, right? And strong. And that wasn't me either.

So a country person rather than sea, normal person rather than fit and sporty. And so I didn't really identify myself as being the kind of person who could be a surfer.

I still loved the idea of surfing though. I always thought "I wish I could".

Then I grew up, got a job, went to uni, got a job, went travelling, worked a little more before finally settling down in Melbourne. In that time I had time, and some disposable income, and the space to go and learn to surf, yet for some reason it didn't even cross my mind to make it happen. Whenever I saw surfing I'd think "I'd love to learn to surf. That looks like total joy." But the thought didn't ever go further than that. There was no next step. There was no action.

I've been wondering about why that is. There are many other things I've attempted to learn and understand in that time and I've just got on and done it. I've thought about whether I just didn't want it enough? Maybe I wanted the other things more?? But I don't think that's it. It's like the thought "I'd love surf" didn't actually ever have the "well I should go and learn" attached to it as a possibility and so it kind of just hung there.... in the air so to speak.

These days I live in Melbourne, in the suburbs, with three kids. I'm 42. I have chickens and I knit. I still don't look like a surfer ;). I also still don't do team sport. That said I am strong though. I exercise regularly and try to keep healthy. So I guess that's a step closer to being the kind of person who would surf?

So back to the revelation. A few weeks ago we went on holiday. And one of the things I did right before we left, in a fit of getting-ready-procrastination, was to download and watch a film called How to be Single. I liked it. It was funny. (Tiny mild spoiler alert if you are going to watch it!) Anyhow the central character has some emotional growth and learning, as you do, over the course of the film. At the end of the film, one of her realisations is that she is always talking about doing things without making it happen. She said it at the end of the film, something along the lines of "I talk wanting to do it but I don't actually do it." And then she does it. She takes action. She does.

A small bell rang in a corner of my mind. Hmm I thought. Am I doing that? Talking about doing things I want to do, rather than doing them?

Then we went on holiday to Noosa where the sun was shining, and there is a surf culture.

We were out at a restaurant one evening and I picked up a pretty magazine (as a way to be less involved in the hesaidshesaid going on) while we were waiting for our food. It was a beautiful surf magazine with all these totally stunning images by this Noosa photographer called Andy Staley. His photos of surfing are totally romantic. They have freedom and grace and sparkle. And again I'm sitting at dinner thinking "I wish I could surf."

I flip the page, and started reading the next article - all about women and surfing and why more don't do it. I flip another page and hit another article about this woman and her husband who took up surfing in the 60s or 70s in Noosa when they were in their 50s. She surfed into her 70s.

Again with the hmmm. Why have I never learnt to surf? I've always wanted to. I make stuff happen. Why not me?

Y'know those moments in your life when the universe decides that you need to learn something important. A couple of little things line up and wham. You learn a lesson that you can never unlearn and your world changes forever.

I had this simple thought - maybe who I think I am has held me back more than I realise?

I've been turning this around in my head over the last week and I've come to the conclusion that the ideas I held about the kind of person I was/am has fundamentally affected the choices I've made. In a way it feels like I'm stating the obvious - for example we know we are organised so we choose a job that involves organisation. Knowing things about ourselves is helpful, right?

But what happens if these ideas we have about ourselves are untrue? What happens if they are based on something tiny from when we were small or a random comment from a stranger. Often this stuff is so deeply buried in our subconscious that we may not even be aware of the impact it has on our decision making. What happens if these unconscious limitations we internally put on ourselves about our place in the world affect us in ways we aren't even aware of.

How often do we examine these "truths"? And rewrite our own story when we find mistaken beliefs?

For me, it's been 15 years since I've had the cash and the time to be able to learn to surf - if I had a mind to do it. I haven't though. And I haven't even really been aware that I was making a decision not to. Surfing wasn't even on the table as a possibility. Because I'm not the kind of person who surfs, or am I?

It took reading an article about a 50yr old woman learning to surf before I could identify myself as being someone who could learn to surf. And now it's back on the table.

So then the question becomes what the hell does this have to do with craft? Well. I was thinking about my I'm not creative post and how I truly believed with all my heart that I wasn't a creative person. And I got to wondering whether there were other places in my craft practice where I was hampered by these subconscious ideas of who I am. Whether it was bigger than just my creativity in general. Are there things that I'm not making, techniques I'm not trying, because of what I believe I am?

The answer is yes!

I want to do some improv patchwork piecing but I don't because I believe I'm not good with colour. I'm procrastinating on really getting into the wedding dress making because I believe that I am a bit slapdash and don't pay enough attention to detail. I could go on but you get the idea. In both those cases the things I believe have meant that I haven't even tried.

Geezus. Who knew?

So what do you think? Are you what you believe you are? Or are the things you believe about yourself limiting your life and your potential to make the things you want to make?

As always love to hear your thoughts on this one. I always learn something from you wise women.

Felicia x

Postscript: So late last week I was out to dinner with the lovely Claire when I mentioned not that I wanted to learn to surf but rather that I was going to learn to surf. Her reply - "I've always wanted to learn to surf. We should totally do it!" And so we are. Sometime in the next year or two (busy times ahead) we are going to schedule a week or so and head north. I, for one, can not wait!