des chaussettes résistantes, dauerhafte Socken, medias duras, stocaí diana
Here I will gladly welcome any feedback re the translations of the title!
Inspired by a fellow Guildy’s endless turnout of groovy socks in an impressive range of fibres and breeds, not to mention colours, I decided some time ago that it was time to try this for myself. The Tough Socks Naturally project provided yet more encouragement. Who needs nylon?
My first pair of socks, made from commercial yarn, were way too big and flimsy. The second, using the madder-dyed yarn (see previous post) were more fitting, but still too big. These were however knitted from the smallest size (for my size 12’s) to this free pattern on Ravelry. Thanks, Kieron!
The yarn was handspun Black Welsh Mountain plied with Grey Suffolk (that apparently may or may not be Suffolk).
The toes (and heels? Can’t remember…) were the Suffolk plied with Zwartbles. All the fibre was from commercially prepared slivers.
Why these breeds? The Black Welsh is just one of those fibres
(for me) that you instantly take to and just spin for the joy of it. It’s a classic down wool – shorter staple, bouncier and… well, groovy.
The socks are just tight enough so that they won’t stretch out of use, and promising to last a long time. They’re not the gentlest, naturally, but not so scratchy, either. I fortunately don’t have a problem with wool, so can appreciate their hardiness. The “fabric” is soft enough in all.
Although there’s still plenty of fibre in the stash, I had to try this. Just believe the ads when they say that it doesn’t actually smell of mint.
So what is it, then? Some retailers describe it as rayon, whereas others say “cellulose-based”. Tomayto/tomartoe, but I think I prefer the latter as it doesn’t bring to mind shiny, clingy things from past decades, or the fabric seller in Ecuador who once tried to flog me some as “silk” then after a nonchalant stare from me, added “seda de rayón…”
And the mint? Mint-infused.
One source described it as being similar to soysilk, but I found it more like real silk to handle and in appearance. From what I remember, the soysilk (and it was a few years ago) had more drape and less loft. The mint fibre, however, opened itself from the tops and spun finely with no great difficulty. The yarn actually has some stretch to it, too, quite a bit. I haven’t made anything with it yet, or tried dyeing it, but will see how it goes as weft. It certainly has the look and feel of silk. I reckon the fibre would blend well with wool, too.
I finally got to the end of a bag of cotton roving that had been sitting in the cupboard, waiting to be spun. Perhaps it was waiting the arrival of the penny tahkli? I wanted to get some slubbiness to the yarn, so left lumps and bumps in it at regular intervals. The trouble is, more practice = less character to the yarn. During a recent alpaca spinning workshop at the Guild, I quoted the English comedian Les Dawson and his signature act of playing the piano with carefully placed “wrong” notes. He explained during an interview that you had to be good at playing the piano before you could be intentionally bad. In spinning terms, I guess that explains the difference between a beginner’s yarn and an art yarn. Nevertheless, yours truly shall continue to practise being intentionally bad.
As you can see, I spun as much cotton as would fit on the tahkli. Just the “feel” of it told me that any more fibre wasn’t an option as the spinning slowed and became more “cumbersome”. Then, this weekend just passed, I found an olive bowl – just the right width and length to accommodate the tahkli in resting mode.