Recently, my knitting life has been a sock-o-rama, as I filled requests for chunky fishermen-style socks. As I finished off the last pair, I was ready to knit something else. Perversely, more socks.
There are knitters and then there are sock knitters. Sock knitters are the crowd who make intricately patterned foot covers with super fine wool, socks meant to fit in your shoes and under your pants legs.
I have neither the eyesight nor the patience for that. I also have a bit of vanity – if I’m going to knit something, I’d like it to be worn in a way that shows it off to the rest of the world.
I thought I wasn’t a sock knitter until I picked up Vogue Knitting: The Ultimate Sock Book and I saw this pattern.
These socks are a work of art I could show off with skirts or dresses. With these, maybe I could even start an adult knee sock fashion trend!
Off I went, pattern in hand, to my local wool shop. The nice saleslady talked me into the quality sock wool that matched the required gauge. Taxes in, that was $36.
I also had to replace my 3.25 mm circular needles, which had been destroyed during a previous sock mishap. Another $10.
That was $46 for the raw materials. I wouldn’t even spend that much money on a pair of technical running socks.
I started the project on a little holiday away. In the airport lounge in Halifax, I laid out my yarn and set to work.
I spent the entire seven hour layover untangling and reballing the yarn, then starting and unravelling the sock several times until I got the hang of the pattern. By the time I boarded the next plane, I had a ribbing and the leg started.
I picked away at the sock during my 4-day mini break. I got used to the dental floss-like yarn, and I found the sweet spot in my eyesight where I should hold the needles. I started to appreciate the slow but intricate progress of the pattern.
I slowly navigated the heel turn. A work of art, if I do say so myself.
Before I started the complicated heel decrease with added sole stripes, I tried the sock on.
Yeah, yeah, I didn’t knit a gauge swatch. But the gauge on the yarn package matched the gauge on the pattern. Even if it didn’t match, there is no way I would mess with such a bonkers complicated pattern.
I am not inclined to attempt another miniature feat of engineering to complete the pair.
I am not a sock knitter.
My husband offered to use it as a golf club cover.
What to do with all this sock wool?
I have a lifetime’s supply of very expensive dental floss.