the peaceful peacock

I’ve been on a knit­ting bender.

It’s true.

I’ve finally learned that when I get into bender-mode (or the “tsunami pour” as my Cana­dian pen­pal calls it), it’s best to just get myself out of the way and let it unroll.  Screw the gen­eral clut­ter patrol, for­get the dirty kitchen floor.  Dig into it and see where it leads.

The other day, I was talk­ing to Barb at The Yarn Shop (who whole­heart­edly sup­ports my fiber ben­ders, of course) about fea­tur­ing a vin­tage style pat­tern as a Free Pat­tern of the Month.  Barb, who attended the Fash­ion Insti­tute of Tech­nol­ogy in New York City back in the day, is always game for a lit­tle talk about fash­ion and style, espe­cially when knit­ting is involved.  We were dis­cussing the resur­gence of the styles of the 80s, stay­ing on top of style trends with­out falling into the fad trap, and sim­ple sum­mer knits.

As it turns out, the lines of the pop­u­lar 80s styles are actu­ally inter­pre­ta­tions of fash­ion from the 1930s and 40s.

That leads me to a very sweet discovery:

A Stitch In Time:  Knit and Cro­chet Pat­terns by Jane Waller and Susan Craw­ford.  It’s a re-publication of a book orig­i­nally pub­lished in 1972, a col­lec­tion of pat­terns from 1920 — 1949.  (You can get it here.)

With­out try­ing to sound like a high school term paper, I just want to point out that the 1930s were a golden era in enter­tain­ment, despite the Great Depres­sion.  Peo­ple used movies, gath­er­ings, and music as a way to escape the drudgery of their dis­mal real­i­ties.  (Think Gone With the Wind and The Wiz­ard of Oz.  Big, dra­matic eye candy.)  The same thing is hap­pen­ing on a sim­i­lar level in these crappy eco­nomic times–tv shows where ordi­nary peo­ple are given extra­or­di­nary oppor­tu­ni­ties, movies like Avatar with intense spe­cial effects and mad swings of drama, that kind of thing.  I see it through the front lines of the blog­ging com­mu­ni­ties, in mama groups, in my Face­book cir­cle, and then I watch it slowly unfurl into the space in front of Annabelle’s stroller on our walks down­town.  Peo­ple are reach­ing out to a more solid foun­da­tion (chick­ens, aprons, mak­ing our own bread) but bring­ing a mod­ern twist along with it (organic grow­ing prac­tices, alter­na­tive energy, the world wide web).  It’s good med­i­cine in tough times, this influ­ence of the sim­plic­ity of the past.

Wait, I was talk­ing about clothes, wasn’t I?

Maybe it’s because I was raised by a collector–a mother who val­ues the his­tory and the story behind the ordinary–but I’m drawn to these old styles in a way that I can’t explain.  They’re fem­i­nine with­out going over the top, beau­ti­fully made, and very unique.  Also per­fect as a light­weight sum­mer knit or an ele­gant work of crochet.

I like to escape our every­day woes in the world of vin­tage fash­ion, I’ll admit it.  Seri­ously.  Look at this stuff.

Mad inspi­ra­tion for this stitchin’ mama…  Once that first sweater gets off the nee­dles, I’ll be tucked behind one of these pat­terns, hid­ing from the big, bad econ­omy and enjoy­ing myself.

Where do you find your­self when the world gets sour?  Seri­ously.  I’m curious.

this week’s it begins with a colour theme was cir­cle. 

the hum­ble penny.  my new hero. 

for all you  stay-at-home mamas out there, I don’t have to tell you how we watch these lit­tle guys like hawks–though it’s been awhile since I had really stud­ied one. 

1976. 

I fished it out of my son’s mouth this morn­ing and we stuck it in the penny jar together.  I know that it’s been around for jimmy carter, the bi-centennial of the united states, ronald rea­gan, the cold war, the chal­lenger explo­sion, grunge rock and flan­nel shirts, bill clin­ton, eco­nomic sur­plus, both george bushes.  and now it bears wit­ness to our first african amer­i­can pres­i­dent.  (I think abra­ham lin­coln would be pretty pleased with that, I really do.)

but how many states has it seen?  how many times has it been fished out of the mouth of a child?  dropped in the street and left behind?  scored as a lucky penny? 

I imag­ine all the jars of change that are being traded in for dol­lars in these rainy days and I think of the hum­ble penny.  stead­fast and unno­ticed, quiet and small.  and I know that amer­ica is going to be ok. 

because if it takes bring­ing a nation to its knees to reclaim the sim­ple things in life,  it just might be worth it.  the count­less tales of peo­ple get­ting laid off and start­ing up tiny home-based busi­nesses, suc­ceed­ing at “what I’ve always wanted to do.”  the dads spend­ing time with their children–at the doctor’s office, the park, the library–all in the mid­dle of the day because they’re not too busy with work any­more.  the idea of sup­port­ing the work of fel­low amer­i­cans becom­ing pop­u­lar once again.  these are small and valu­able tokens of humanity.

I see old pen­nies resur­fac­ing from long slum­bers in jars and they qui­etly bring good things.  like always.

 

**ps:  the “I like you Amer­ica” cat­e­gory was inspired by my pal Car­rie at Rhubarb Sky, who is totally awe­some.  Check out her Etsy shop too.