Welcome to the rabbit hole that knitting socks became for me this past year.
It all started with a sock-knitting set my mother gave me years ago, which had been gathering dust in a drawer.
Last December I finally picked it up, ready to knit for the first time since primary school.
Things escalated quickly. After a brief struggle with my first pair (they were so loose I could have fitted both feet into one sock), I gifted two pairs at Christmas, made baby socks in February, and knitted three more pairs after that, including colorwork sheep socks and some in Zopfmuster (cable knit, for the English-speakers).
That led to my first top, the June Top. In August I cast on my first cardigan, finished it in late September, and I’m now in the middle of the Frey sweater. Colorwork and double knitting have long ceased to be a challenge, which is wild considering I started this less than a year ago, wrestling with tension and baffling instructions. Who expects a beginner to know what the difference between m1r and m1l is? Thank god for YouTube and TikTok..
But the best part has been the conversations along the way. People strike up chats with me on public transport. Some tell me they used to knit too, some ask what I’m working on, and some shower me with compliments on the detail, adding that they could never do something like that. These chats have turned into talks about fast and slow fashion and how garments are made. Knitting has even taught me to repair clothes, since I now have the knowledge, technique, and tools to do it.
I love how this hobby has brought generations together and created a sense of togetherness in such a hectic place as the daily commute.
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