...or something like that.
I've had two people mention this to me in as many days, so it looks like it's time for another long, rambling blog post that solves nothing!
To wit, the problem of all these 'it's so hip to knit' books.
There appears to be a growing backlash, and I, for one, couldn't be happier. A quick search of Amazon has turned up no less than NINE knitting books with 'hip' in the title, including "Funky Knits, knitting know-how for hip young things" which makes me wish for a sharpened pencil and a publisher's back to bury it in. Plus there's a further slew of knitting books all trying to tell me it's a great and fascinating craft that is 'not my grandmother's' knitting. (And, incidentally, I want one of these - anybody got $500 and an extra room to add to my house?)
Since when is a thousand-year-old craft used to make socks and underwear HIP, and why in hell does it want to be? AND WHAT'S WRONG WITH GRANDMA'S KNITTING?
I know, I know. It's marketing. But you know what? It's fucking annoying.
Since seeing the horrifying list of hip knit books on Amazon, I've been sitting here trying to think of anything I've ever knit that could qualify as 'hip'. Let's see: a boat load of lace... no.... a lot of traditional sweaters... no.... some felted containers...? Probably not. I think the closest I ever got to hip was the twelve-color Starry Night ruana thingie, and since it's rather a classic design I doubt it qualifies as hip either.
What really gets me in all this is, by denying knitting's everydayness, it's blue-collar history as well as it's high-end trade good moments, they're ignoring what has made knitting great. The workaday wool jumpers that keep fishermen warm in cold weather to this day, the glorious silk nightshirts of royalty, the ladies' stockings at 25 stitches to the inch, all that skill, all that potential for usefulness and stylishness TODAY, all reduced to a dorky TV show and a bunch of books with fun-fur scarves.
Ah well, a lot of us know the truth and I have a feeling we'll win through in the end.