x2 + bx + c = 0
\int_{-N}^{N} e^x\, dx 
How many of us knitters were whizz kids in math when we were in school? For me, personally, word problems were terrifying—my girlfriends and I actually had nightmares about math characters—in hers, a giant Sigma Iota sign chased her all over campus! I got as far away from math as I could once I was in college, indulging left-brain only endeavors in literature studies, theater and dance. How ironic is it that now, many years later as a knitter, when I sit down to plan a new project, I’m running word problems in my head? After all these years of fleeing from numbers, I find myself relying on them more and more. The truth is that projecting a desired outcome in length and width of a new sweater is not much different than those word problems that plagued us in school.
Knitting by Numbers: Successful Sweaters from 2010
It pains me to admit it, but my greatest knitting successes this year all came down to math. For all the sweaters above, what makes them work as actual clothing is how well they fit my body. That meant a considerable investment in time; reading over a pattern to determine the amount of intended ease the designer had built into a pattern, and the exact measurements that would result from sizes S to M. (You simply divide the number of stitches at hips, waist and bust in the pattern by the number of stitches per inch in the pattern gage. That gives you the intended measurements for each size and desired amount of ease.) The challenge then is to choose a particular size or even adjust stitch numbers in a size to accommodate my own body measurements and my desired amount of ease. As if that isn’t enough of a challenge, I found it necessary to consistently measure the gage throughout the process of knitting the back and front pieces so that if my gage loosened or tightened up as I went along, (which happened often) I could continue to adjust my increases/decreases to get the desired fit.
Reflecting on successes from 2010, here is the formula I found that worked best to simplify my sweater word problems :
1. Step one:
Choose one style of designing and stick to it. In my case, I focused mostly on flat, bottom-up patterns. Actually, most of the sweaters I chose were designed by one design house. Why? Because working within a standardized set of patterns is predictable, and leads to sustained success from one project to the next. I chose Kim Hargreaves because many of her patterns are made with an hour-glass figure in mind, and the ample waist shaping and peplums or ruffles emphasized the ratio of small waist to curvy hips. Once I learned how to adapt one of these patterns to fit me best, I could apply that successful formula to them all.
)
Step two:
2. Consistent choices in yarn is another must. Because my gage varies quite a bit, I have learned the hard way to hitch my wagon to a few types of yarn and stick to them as much as I can. Once I have learned what my gage is using 4-ply cotton, for example, I can apply that knowledge to the next project I knit in that yarn, which saved me a lot of unraveling. For example, I knit Petal right after Blossom and was able to achieve a perfect fit because I had just knitted a Kim Hargreaves pattern using that same yarn. On the other hand, when I tried knitting Arielle, which has a similar construction to Petal and Blossom, using handmaiden seasilk, I found my gage playing tricks on me and struggled so much with the different properties of the yarn that I had to unravel the entire thing.
3 patterns by Kim Hargreaves: Petal, Blossom & Arielle
I I bombed horribly knitting Goodwill because the felted tweed aran defied all my attempts to control its gage, producing a loose, floppy jacket that was basically un-wearable. Kristenlynne’s sage advice has certainly proved true for me that consistent choices in yarn are a huge factor for sweater success!
Step three:
3. The final and most important factor for success for me is mastering own measurements when planning a project.
This is something I am still struggling with, but I think this is perhaps the most empowering part of knitting one’s own clothes. How many women in America are even wearing the correct bra size? Most of us shy away from measuring ourselves, or from measuring our changes over time, but if we don’t, how will we ever knit sweaters that fit? I was shocked a few years ago, when I took Karen Alfke’s brilliant Stitches class on knitting sweaters that fit. To my embarrassment, we were all asked to measure the knitter sitting next to us from top to bottom, but I learned an important lesson. After several measuring attempts, my partner proved to me that my rib cage , in fact, measured only 31 inches. How was this possible when the bra I had been wearing since highschool was a size 38? I went to Nordstroms for a professional bra fitting a week later and left satisfied with my new size 34, in a cup-size bigger than what I had been wearing before. It seems this is a common mistake that women make, increasing the size of the band to compensate for a cup that is too small.
Since bust measurements are so critical to correct sweater fit, I felt very empowered by this experience, and used my newfound knowledge for the next two years when planning out all my sweater projects, incorporating bust darts into many of my tighter fitting sweaters.
But as time progressed, my horizontal bust darts grew less and less effective, leading up to the overly tight cardigan, Jen, in which it appears the buttons are threatening to pop off.
I was completely mystified by this disaster until this Christmas, when my husband used my supposed measurements to buy me some lingerie. I went back to Victoria’s Secret in a huff, and put myself through the torture of trying on half a dozen bras in the same size, none of which fit. Forced to rely on a teenybopper salesgirl for help, I pointed out that everything I tried on seemed to be too small, and what could I do? She whipped out a tape measure, spent some time measuring me, and told me without a blink that my true measurement was a 36 inch band, in a cup size even smaller than the ones I was trying on. In the past, I might have been intimidated by the girls' arrogant manner, and ended up buying myself the wrong bra. But after years of knitting, I was armed with measurement experiences, which had proved time and again that my true number is 31 inches. It took some time and patience, and my actually trying on an ill-fitting bra to prove the salesgirl wrong, but in the end, I left Victoria Secret with a 34 inch-band bra in an even larger cup size that fit me perfectly. This experience left me with a few questions--is the cup sizing at Victoria Secret skewed to make women think they are bustier than they really are, or have I actually changed cup sizes, which would explain the bust dart failures in my sweaters this past year? I suppose I will have to make another trip to Nordstrom for a fitting so I can make sure. As embarrassing as this topic is, I bring it up because I am increasingly convinced that knowing our own topography is a key to gaining mastery over our knits. As stressful as my experience was, instead of leaving the store in tears as I might have in years past, I left feeling empowered, because I was armed with enough knowledge to get the help I needed in the end. It turns out that now those math word problems, instead of adding to my fears, are making me a confident woman after all.