THE KNITTING INDUSTRY - PART ONE

Now that I have accepted knitting as a worthy way of passing time, I find myself thinking of expanding my horizons.  I am contemplating finding a second career somewhere in the knitting industry.  There are so many possibilities.  I’m sure I will find one where I can excel.  I will give strong consideration to every aspect of the industry before I choose.  In today’s little essay I will focus on a most essential element in the production of yarn: Sheep Farming.

About 25 years ago, I remember reading an article by some famous Literary Critic.  In it he listed what, in his opinion, were the 10 greatest novels ever written.  He went on to elaborate on why those 10 masterpieces were a mandatory read for all educated people of the world.  I instantly noticed that I had only read three of the ten.  And these had all been mandatory school assignments.  I vowed to read the other seven before another year passed.  Well, here it is, 25 years later and I’ve only added two more to the list.  But one thing I did do was to find out what each of the books that I had not read was about.  One of the books on the list was by Marcel Proust.  Back then, the common translation of the French title, "A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu", was "Remembrance of Things Past".  Nowadays I believe it’s called "In Search of Lost Time".  No matter what it’s titled, it is one very, very, very long novel.  I don’t think I’ll be adding it to my reading list soon.  There is one famous scene in this book that literary types gush over. In this scene a character takes a bite out of a Madeleine (a cute little French sponge cake) and a monsoon of memories comes flooding forth from his brain.  These pleasant recollections all had to do with a time during his childhood when he had similarly eaten a Madeleine.  Well, just the other day, I had my own little episode of involuntary memory.  I was knitting away on a project and I was glancing at the yarn label.  100% wool, it stated.  I started wondering about the sheep that had produced the very yarn I was knitting.  Did it have a name?  Did it mind having its protective coat stripped from its body?  Did it mind that its pleasing natural color had been dyed into a sultry blue?  And then it hit me.  Something I hadn’t thought about in decades.  My grandparents were farmers.  They had raised, among other things, sheep.  When I was eight-years-old, I had spent a depressing summer on their farm desperately wanting nothing else but to return to my comfortable home in Chicago.

I think we can all agree that farming is a noble profession.  Without farmers the world is doomed.  But working on a farm?  Oh my!  Here are some things that knitting with sheep’s wool made me inadvertently remember about that summer.  Watching a hog get slaughtered can traumatize a young boy to the point where he will not eat bacon or ham for a long time.  Waking up very early in the morning to help milk the cows has a negative impact on the quality of one’s sleep.  Milk directly from a cow, even after it’s boiled, tastes awful.  A rooster will attack you if you look at his chickens in a funny way.  Sheep are dirty (I will refrain from listing the many disgusting things that stick to their wool.).  Sleeping in a bedroom that doubles as a storage facility for barley makes one detest that particular grain.  Until one learns to appreciate beer, anyway.  So many other nasty things I could list about that summer.  Granted, the whole time wasn’t a total downer. I still cherish some memories from that particular summer, though they mostly had to do with learning how to shoot marbles.  Thankfully, it wasn’t sheep shearing season when I visited.  I might not have had a pleasant reaction to such a spectacle.  To this day I've only seen a display of that peculiar craft on television.  From the sheep’s perspective it is not a walk in the park.  I, for one, would not relish the idea of having a barber forcibly give me an all-body crew cut.  Check out sheep shearing on YouTube if you’ve never seen it being done.  Nevertheless, we have to face facts.  No sheep shearing, no pretty yarn to knit with.  But as far as sheep farming being a new vocation?  I’ll pass, thank you.

A WOOLY LOVE SONG

I’m still on a high from writing my previous post which dealt with my yet-to-be-knit Vicuña sweater, so I thought I’d conclude the thought with a song.  Feel free to sing this out loud as I already have.  Just make sure no one is looking.  It is sung to the tune of “Maria” from the musical West Side Story.

Kudos to Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim who wrote the original song and many thanks to Mad Magazine, THE major source of comedic inspiration for any boy who grew up in the 1960’s … and I’d bet a few girls too.

                                                                      VICUÑA

Vicuña, I’ve just knit a hat of vicuña.

And suddenly I feel

That I cannot conceal my glee.

Vicuña, I’ve just knit a scarf of vicuña.

And suddenly my neck

Is saying, “What the heck!?” to me.

Vicuña, even though you are quite expensive,

I don’t mind being apprehensive.

Vicuña, I’ll never stop buying vicuña.

Vicuña, vicuña, vicuña, vicuña

Vicuña, vicuña, vicuña, vicuña, vicuña.

Vicuña, no more rayon or silk or cotton.

Other wools, they’re so misbegotten.

Vicuña, I’ll never stop buying vicuña.

The most beautiful yarn I ever knit:

Vicuña.

I’m going to sing this to Cathy every day.  To get me to stop she’ll have to buy me the16 skeins of yarn I’ll need for my Double Extra Large Vicuña sweater.  I better start looking for a nice pattern.         

THE HOLY GRAIL OF SWEATERS

With apologies to King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, for our purposes, the Holy Grail is that which is magical and practically unattainable. So how does one go about knitting such an impossible masterpiece? Well, first we have to talk about what most knitting projects are made from. That would be yarn. And the most common source of natural yarn would be animal fibers or wool. We’ve all knit with yarn made from sheep's wool. And most of us have probably knit with alpaca. Those blessed with tons of patience might have already tackled a few projects with the more common exotic yarns: Cashmere or Mohair, both from goats, and Angora from rabbits. The less common (and more expensive) exotic yarns would include muskox (Quiviut), yak, camel and bison. There are also other unusual sources. I’ve seen yarns that contain possum and mink. Llama yarn also exists but one doesn’t see it often. Actually, one could spin yarn out of any animal fiber. Dog, for example. No lie. There’s even a word for yarn spun from dog hair. Chiengora. How charming. Silk is, technically speaking, made by an animal but not really an animal fiber. Major essays could be written about all of these sources of yarn, and one day, maybe I’ll take up that challenge. But today I’m here to specifically write about one particular animal fiber. The Rolls Royce of wool. Vicuña.

The diameter of a wool fiber is measured in microns. A micron is one millionth of a meter. An average human hair, for example, measures approximately 100 microns. The lower the number of microns, the finer the wool. A wool that is exceptionally fine will measure in the low teens. Cashmere, Angora, the finest of Alpaca and the highest quality Merino sheep are examples of wool that measure in the 12 to 15 range. Quiviut averages around 11 microns. Cathy actually carries a few balls of Quiviut blend in the store.  I'm not sure if I’m allowed to touch it. Vicuña (pronounced vee-coo-nyah) measures from 6 to 10 microns. To say that Vicuña is of a fine quality is to say that Shakespeare wrote some nice plays, that Beethoven came up with some charming melodies, that Picasso drew some pretty pictures, that Michael Jordan knew how to shoot a basketball. It is a trip to the moon just to be able to say that one has touched this yarn. And to say that one has actually knit with Vicuña must be what achieving Nirvana is all about. So lookout, Nirvana, ‘cause here I come!

There is one small impediment, however. You can’t expect to pay the same price for a Rolls Royce that you would pay for a Minivan. Online sources show a woven Vicuña scarf retailing for $1,500. A man’s overcoat goes for $20,000. Unless you’re in the Bill Gates category of wealth, these are prices that make one pause. Currently, quality vicuña yarn costs around $300 dollars an ounce. This ounce will provide one with 200 yards or so of unsurpassed luxury. With it one could make half a hat or a small portion of a scarf. But what the heck. If I’m going to knit with Vicuña, I’m not going to mess around with a hat or a scarf or, heaven forbid, socks! I’m going to make me a Double X sweater. Excuse me a sec while I go do the math.

Uh-oh!

According to my calculator, a 100% Vicuña Double X sweater knit in a simple pattern would cost around $4,800 in yarn. But I will not be deterred. I think it’s time to ask Cathy for a raise.