Knitworthy

Knitworthy. The word alone holds so much weight. It sounds pretentious and paramount - and it is - especially after realizing the depth and range of it’s meaning.

We’ll start with the bad news (really? Bad news in knitting? Yup. Put on your grownup pants, we’re diving in).

The negative side of Knitworthy came up recently in one of my knitting groups. We were discussing pieces that we’ve knit for others, what they were, and the reactions received. Across the board, the descriptions of the gifted knitted pieces were elaborate - details of the pattern nuances, the color, feel, and fiber of the yarn, and how the final piece dripped love, effort, and time. This emotional illustration already sets the expectation too high, but realizing this doesn’t change the feeling. Come to find out, each of us in the group has had an experience where we’ve knit a gift for someone, and it was received with much less enthusiasm than expected. Also come to find out, many of these experiences tainted the handknit-gift-giving situation so much so that some do not knit for others anymore.

When this happened to me, I was horrified. Hindsight highlights my mistakes in giving this gift to a non-Knitworkthy person, spanning from using extremely nice yarn, to tailoring the design specifically to fit the recipient, accompanied by a 4-letter word following “What the -” when the gift was literally tossed to the floor, foreshadowing its never-to-be-seen-again existence.

Not Knitworthy.

Conversely, a Knitworthy person is one that knows, understands, and appreciates the art and gift from the Knitter, and cherishes it for ever and ever and ever.

However, aside from the hard-core labeling of sentient beings receiving handmade gifts, there’s another kind of Knitworthy - a quiet, more intimate experience, one where I find so much joy.

Knitting is intimate, it takes time, and it’s obviously effortful. It means something. So if a pattern doesn't work, the result is all sorts of messy.

Years ago when I worked as a knitting expert for a high-end designer, customers would come in with crumpled up patterns and half-knit pieces and literally throw - throw! - them across the table at me. The frustration behind the explanation of what was wrong was often thick and sour, so my first step was to always talk the customer off the I-hate-knitting ledge. That’s not a ledge with a 5-star view.

I learned so much working with these Knitters, not just want they wanted from a pattern, but specifically what they didn’t want from a pattern. Combine the knowledge of dos and don’ts with design and structure, and the algebra inevitably equals a pattern that supports, encourages, teaches, brings comfort, and ultimately guides the Knitter to a pretty product they can wear with pride. This is what I try to do.

I get a lot of feedback as a knitwear designer and instructor. Truly and honestly, I try to read every message - most are positive - and I do try to respond to them all. But there is one message that stands out among the others, that grows my heart and brings a flush of thanks and deep gratitude to my face.

This is my third time knitting [name pattern]!
I can’t wait to make another.
[Name pattern] has become my comfort-knit.
Thank you for making me feel special in a knitting pattern.
I have learned so much from knitting [name pattern].

When my pattern is meaningful to a Knitter, I know I’ve done my job, and it’s the best professional compliment I can receive.

And if they want to make it again… Knitworthy.