A very strange thing has happened to my growing yarn fixation. In each of the three yarn shops I've gone into lately, I've found myself ending my judicious, dignified wander accidentally plastered up against the novelty yarn section, salivating. If it has bobbles, sparkles, feathers, bits, beads or gosh-darned bojangles, some eternally eight-year-old part of my subconscious seems to desire it passionately.
This is very weird. When indulging my first love, which is fabric, I'm a complete fibre snob: I like cotton, linen, silk, viscose. My habitual stance is to wander around fabric stores letting loose my fine homing instinct for colour (black, jewel tones); then, gaze fixed in the middle distance, I fixatedly fondle the fabric. If there's too high a concentration of synthetic, my mien assumes the disdainful expression of a snobby duchess who's just detected something a little off about the fish, and I drop the offending cloth contemptuously, in extreme cases wiping my hand on my skirt. (You can imagine that fabric store assistants love this). Anything above about 15% synthetic gets me. I hate it. I always feel as though I can't breathe when I'm wearing it.
The thing about novelty yarn, of course, is that most of it represents the 1001 Really Interesting Things We Can Do With Unnatural Bits Of Thing. It's uniformly acryllicoid. The spangles and dangles and what have you are clearly Best Quality Plastic, and make no bones about it. And, weirdly enough, this doesn't seem to matter - while absolutely open to the more elevated seductions of mohair, wool and banana fibre, I am still possessed of an unholy desire to knit the unholy plastic novelty stuff. This also, of course, takes absolutely no notice of the fact that my knitting skills are currently barely up to perfectly straight and straightforward yarn; I shudder to think of the interesting space-time tangles I could generate with boucle. Also, it's not as if I'd ever wear any of it, or not at least without someone giving me a great deal of bribe money and a personality transplant.
I have thus far, with consummate self-control, prevented myself from actually acquiring any of this glittery froufrou, but I have a horrible feeling it's only a matter of time until I'm tying myself to the sofa, now with added sequins. When the hour is nigh, I shall have to do my damndest to channel the urge into actual mohair boucle in that beautiful greeny blue. In fact, I might have to go and acquire it tomorrow. Dammit.
In other news: more space-time warpage! Robynn, is this dratted dishcloth actually supposed to be giving me a stockinette stitch border and garter stitch bands of colour, or am I doing something weird to the row count while perving Doctor Who?
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Um. It would be easier to tell with a picture, but it doesn't sound quite right. I don't think it has a border as such, and it definitely doesn't have garter stitch (defined as "knit every row"), but what it does have is a few rows of reverse stocking stitch (i.e. purl side forward - a bumpy effect somewhat reminiscent of garter stitch, but more so) alternating with regular stocking stitch. You've seen the picture, right?
Your prettily slipped stitches should basically be forming vertical bridges between bands of nice smooth knitting, divided by bands of bumpy crazy colourful knitting. With the slip stitch bridges on top. Does that make sense?
As for the novelty attraction - you may as well enjoy it. It won't last. Your innate snobbery will re-assert itself, especially as you start to enjoy doing funny things with cables and lace and such, and realise that novelty yarns Just Don't Play That Way. Also, they're unwearable by anyone over the age of 15. But when you're still learning, the novelties can give you a fun texture kick without having to brave complicated stitch witchery.
Definitely advisable to go for the mohair boucle, though, which doesn't really count as a novelty yarn on account of its Classic Appeal (no, really). And it will be warm, and pretty, and you can actually get a very wearable scarf or shawl or something out of it.
Oh - it's also possible to get sequined and/or beaded silk yarn. It'll cost you your first-born child, but hey...
Are you signed up for Ravelry yet?
Ah-ha! I was evilly misled by Wikipedia, whose garter stitch photo looks uncannily like my reverse stocking stitch.
I have an edge (not a border all the way round, i.e. it's the first few rows) composed of sort of flat arrowy things I darkly suspect are stocking stitch. Then the bands held by the slipped stitches start; they're all curvy and wavy and knobbly and rather attractive. They're separated by short bits of nested arrows. So, actually I think I have it correct: I just confused the hell out of myself by missing a row somewhere and ending up with stocking where I should have had reverse stocking. I have now ripped back and am blazing along making happy rows of brickwork. Photos to follow, I'm at work at the moment.
And, yeth, Aunty Robynn, I'm signed up on Ravelry. Happy now...? ;>
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