Speak to Me

The first job I ever had was at a fabric store. For the most part, I cut fabric, put it away, and organized the messes customers left behind. I didn't know it at the time, but I also learned one of the most important lessons in garment making: drape. At the time, I didn't give a damn about drape. I made a skirt once out of bright orange faux suede upholstery -- the real thick stuff, of the car seat variety -- and trimmed the bottom with some ribbon. Well, I still have the ribbon. The skirt? Long gone.

Despite such disasters, I would walk amidst the bolts and bolts of fabric, pulling at their corners, letting the fabric fall over my open palm, examining their patterns, fibers, and yes, drapes. I was inspired by fabric, knowing immediately how to breath life into a flat rectangle and what it's ultimate destiny should be. Sometimes, the fabric itself was beyond inspiration, and I bought it simply because of the way it sounded when I shook it out, or because I liked the way it was cool against my skin. I write this with one particular fabric in mind. At first there is nothing special about it. Apparently, many people had this opinion, as I bought it off one of the discount tables at the store. It's a matte black. A light black really, the matte-ness brings in subtle gray overtones that make it somewhat forgettable. Sort of like the girl at the party you spent 3 hours talking to, but whose name you can't remember. But for years I've spread this fabric out, draped it over my arms and shoulders, twirled, pondered what to make of it. I've rejected pattern after pattern, in fear that the resulting garment won't be "just right."

Sewing requires a certain level of commitment. Once you've made that cut, you're essentially left with wiggle room. Knit fabrics are different however. Knit garments can be ripped out and made into something else. The few times I've done it myself, I've thought of Monet, painting over paintings, just because it was a canvas.

I don't really understand knit fabrics the same way I do woven ones. Sewing is a matter of reduction. It's immediately known what your constraints are. But with knitting, you're creating the fabric, building it row by row, applying shaping and discovering drape as you go. All this made infinitely more difficult by choice of stitch pattern, needle size, yarn weight, fiber content, etc. etc. And while I'm sure some people can run the strands of a hank through their fingers and know how it will knit up, I am not one of those people. Even knitting a swatch won't reveal all the secrets of the fabric -- or maybe I haven't quite learned how to tell.