Have I mentioned that I love knitting socks?
Have I mentioned that I make poor sock pattern choices?
The Boyfriend Socks are done and, as beautiful as the cables may be, I'm pretty relieved. I found it really difficult to keep myself from putting too much pressure on the needles and it's frankly a miracle I didn't break any more of them than I did. While the recipient has yet to grace me with a photoshoot I tried them on myself just for the sheer pleasure of my feet looking smaller than they really are (this totally works, by the way). They look good!
Sadly the heel is still too long, though, despite me taking out an extra inch - it's difficult to judge how much space it takes up for someone else's foot, apparently. Third time's the charm, though, and I'm determined for the next pair to actually properly fit. And also not involve cables because I'm not an idiot.
I followed this bind off by immediately casting on my next pair of socks - this time using Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock in the Lakeview colourway. It's an absolutely stunning easter-y combination of blues, purples and light yellow-green that was born to be knit in linen stitch. I found a handful of projects on Ravelry that use a linen stitch sole (and/or toe) to add extra firmness to it and hopefully increase the wearability. It seemed like a good idea, so I forged right ahead.
Did you know that linen stitch takes FOREVER? It does. It also uses up a lot more yarn than plain stockinette does, as it's that much more dense.
And, as you may be able to tell from the above image, I decided on the linen stitch too far into the sock. It begins just after the ball of the foot which is the area I most commonly wear through my socks, so even if I'd been happy leaving the toe plain I've really missed the whole point of trying out this textured sole.
So my hours of beautiful linen stitch have gone to the frog pile and my toes have been re-cast on in Navy-coloured Knit Picks Stroll. It's lucky that linen stitch is fairly simple to keep track of because knitting in a colour this dark is not easy - I generally can't see what I'm working on too well, with this one, so I'm going by feel a lot of the time. At least if I mess up you won't be able to see the mistakes either!
The main source I'm following for the sole is a Knitty pattern called An American in China - I might even follow the heel, for something different, since it would probably be a good idea to branch out for a change. For the most part, though, the important thing here is that you need to add extra rows when knitting linen stitch as the rows are shorter than standard and your knitting will quickly get very uneven if you don't.
You may be able to tell from the above picture that there's something... different about my Luggala. Something wrong, even. Something missing from the pattern. Can you see it?
Why yes, that is a tiny band of twisted rib instead of the beautiful, giant lace cowl neck of the pattern. The ball I'm knitting the pocket from is actually all the yarn I ripped out when I took the cowl neck out (nine repeats in, too, and basically done). While I knew that it was never going to be a flattering choice for someone my shape, I was content knowing that it was at least pretty in and of itself, and the lace cowl neck really was part of what drew me to this pattern in the first place. But... I think it is one of those patterns that just doesn't translate well to larger sizes.
In the smaller sizes, the neck looks beautiful. I've spent a lot of time admiring the photos of all the completed projects on Ravelry and how sweet, how unique the lace cowl is. Unfortunately, as I found when trying on the nearly-completed neck, it does not look beautiful in a larger size. The cowl is based on stitches picked up around the circumference of the neckline - which you can see above is quite significant.
There are no good pictures of this (it's the middle of summer and just putting it on at all was torture, so forgive me), but here is the offending mess:
The sheer volume of it was impressive, I'll admit: it seemed to have increased in size from its original circumference when the stitches were picked up (seriously, when I flattened it out it was a total trapezoid). It also refused to curl nicely, since the top was wider than the bottom, and so was constantly wrong-side out. I found myself avoiding knitting it and that is always a sign that something is wrong.
It hurt to rip it back but we are much happier now. The end sweater is not going to be as unique or pretty as it should have been, and the top half is pretty unremarkable now. I feel a little like Violet Beauregard when I'm wearing it but it's going to be comfy and I'm looking forward to wearing something with some actual colour next winter.
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