I hadn't thought about knitting for years when I found myself at my hair salon, flipping through a Vogue Knitting magazine (yes, I did think it was strange that a Vogue Knitting magazine was at the hair salon) and my eyes landed on a simple but classic sweater dress. It was soft gray in color with minimal shaping but maximum appeal. Something bubbled up inside me, and I knew that I had to trying knitting that dress. Now, what you need to know is that I had never learned to read a knitting pattern ~ my mom, who is a master knitter, does not know how to read a knitting pattern to this day ~ but when I began to peruse the instructions, something in my brain clicked and it simply became another language to me, and one which I actually could understand. How and why this happened, I can't explain but all I can say is that my brain was willing to accept the k, p, ssk, and chart marks when it had never been willing before.
Fast forward to today: I have now been knitting for the past dozen or so years, increasing my skill and my love for making by hand. What hasn't increased is my speed and that, I suppose, is at the heart of my involvement in slow fashion. I am rarely driven by product. I am almost always driven by process. Each time I cast on for a new project, I revel in the possibility of the final sweater, glove, hat, or scarf, especially if I'm trying to design it myself. But that's not what gives me the most joy. Having the work in my hands as I touch the yarn, watch the fabric take shape, and create something wearable is what thrills me. The end product is truly the icing on the cake.
Oh, and no, I never did knit that sweater dress but maybe I'll just cast that on for my #slowfashionoctober project.