A Little Ooh La La

 

Many years ago I discovered Joan McGowan-Michael's fabulous lingerie-inspired knitting designs, and in particular her pattern for thigh-high stockings. 

 

 

 

 

I think I've been aware of McGowan-Michael's Marlaina Thigh-High Stockings design since shortly after it was published in 2009, and I have longed to make them since I first saw them. They're so satisfyingly quaint, beautiful, romantic, and a little ooh la la. I love historical fashions, but I'm no Bernadette Banner. My style runs to the simple and sensible, and isn't at all costumey. It isn't often I can find a way to incorporate historical fashions or historically inspired elements into my wardrobe, but it seemed to me that these stockings were very wearable. I firmly intended to make them for several years. Then I started becoming more practical and realistic about my project planning, and I asked myself what these stockings would go with in my wardrobe. I couldn't seem to come up with a colour that would work with my existing clothes. (I think I was limiting my thinking to the colour selection of the kits available for this project: Cranberry, Charcoal, and Ivory.) I decided I wouldn't wear them, and regretfully struck them from my project list. Then a few years ago I realized that if I were to make these stockings in a dark brown, they would work with plenty of my skirts and dresses, and they went back on my knitting list. 

It did feel a little on the drearily practical side to knit stockings like this in brown. But it works for me, and while dark chocolate brown may not seem like the most exciting or sexy colour to others, I've come to love it. It's such a warm, rich shade, and it's flattering to me, unlike black, which makes me look like a hag.

 

 

 

I purchased two skeins of Pro Lana Sockenwolle Melange in brown, and knitted the stockings in size Large (8-9). There were two modifications involved. I found I didn't care at all for the look of the Honeybee stitch, it would have shown more of my skin than I wanted, and I could just imagine all those loose strands constantly catching on everything every time I wore the stockings. I looked through my knitting stitch books, and wound up using a lace motif from a more complex stitch design from Hitomi Shida's Japanese Knitting Stitch Bible (#113, found on page 65). I also made the stockings 32" long (measured from the bottom of the heel to the top of the stocking) rather than the 24" the pattern calls for. I have long legs for my height, and I wanted to be able to wear the stockings with an above the knee skirt without worrying that the tops were showing. I was happy with the resulting design and fit.

But I wasn't quite satisfied with the colour of the yarn. It was a little grayish and tweedy in tone, not the dark chocolate brown I always try to buy so all my brown clothes, shoes, and accessories will work together. When I got the yarn home from Romni Wool and compared it to my dresses and skirts, I found it did go with a few of my things in my closet as was, but it would go with more things if it were darker. So I decided to dye the stockings to the shade of brown I wanted once I'd gotten them knitted, as that would be easier than trying to dye hanks of yarn.   

 

 

 

 

The stockings, and the leftover 22 grams of yarn, after dyeing. I used Rit Dye in Brown, and also put the stockings through a fixative process. I'm so much happier with the colour now. It was a time-consuming business winding the tangled partial skein into a ball after I'd dyed it, but it was worth it, as I'll be able to darn the stockings in the same colour yarn.

 

 

 

 

The only thing left to do was insert the elastic and the ribbons through the holes at the top, and then photograph the stockings. The first task was a straightforward matter. I found a large tapestry needle did the threading much faster and more easily than my fingers. I put the elasticized and beribboned stockings on and discovered the stockings had shrunk slightly in the dyeing process. They still fit width-wise, but they're 30" long instead of 32". I could rip back the lace at the top and add another two inches to the length with the leftover yarn, but I probably won't bother. They're still a very workable length on me. 

The photography shoot was another matter. I had grand plans of taking a shot of my legs in the stockings, but I discovered it's very difficult to get a good shot of one's own legs in thigh-high stockings. The images that appeared in the preview window of my digital camera when I was trying to find a good angle were so unflattering (i.e., horrifyingly large thighs and absurdly tiny feet) that I never bothered taking a shot. And it's not easy to take a nice photo of stockings just by themselves. You'll have noticed that the sample shot shows the stocking on a leg form. 

But, um, here are the stockings in a heap!

 

 

 

 Here's a shot of the front lace panel in the stockings. 

 

 

 

And here's a shot of the stockings neatly rolled. This is how I keep them in my stocking and tights drawer.

Lacklustre photography aside, I really am very satisfied with my beautiful brown thigh-high stockings, have a plan to wear them with a tartan skirt at a Scottish-themed dinner party I'm planning for January, if not earlier, and I even intend to keep my pattern print out, with its attached chart of the lace stitch I used and my notes, in my pattern library so as to be able to make a replacement pair of stockings when these wear out, or even a pair in another colour.  

The Alchemical Scarf

This post contains an account of my first foray into a craft I haven't previously tried: dyeing.

In August 2017, I received the gold scarf you see photographed above for my birthday. I was dubious about that greenish dull gold shade from the moment I saw it, and a look through my closet and in the mirror confirmed what I'd feared: that it didn't go with anything I had, and that the colour looked awful on me. However, the scarf was pure silk, which made it both possible and worthwhile to dye it a different, more flattering and wearable colour.

I have almost no experience dyeing textiles, so I posted to AskMetafilter that day asking for advice on how to proceed. Some months later I bought a tin of Dylon dye in Tangerine (39). But that was as far as the project got for about a year. The tin of dye sat in my kitchen junk drawer. I tend to put things off when I'm afraid I won't be able to do them right, and as a crafter I know how beginner projects are all too prone to turn out, especially when the beginner crafter doesn't do sufficient prep to be reasonably sure of what the process entails. That tin of dye hadn't even come with instructions, and there was no way for even an experienced dyer to know what kind of colour might result from using it in combination with the existing gold.

In mid-October 2018, I visited G&S Dye and Accessories Ltd., on Dundas Street West in Toronto, for some knowledgeable and in-person advice. I showed the sales associate the scarf, explained that I didn't like the colour and that it didn't suit me, and asked for help in selecting a dye. The store associate, who made a distressed face at the sight of the scarf against my face, was very helpful. She suggested different colours, gave me a copy of a sheet of instructions for various dyeing methods, and pointed out that it couldn't hurt to try dyeing the scarf given that I couldn't possibly make the scarf's colour worse than it already was. I decided I'd use the tin of dye I had on hand first and see how that went.

A few days ago, armed with my instruction sheet and the tin of Dylon dye, I applied the dye using the stove top method that's supposed to be the best method. I dumped in the tin's contents (there was approximately one tablespoon of powdered dye in it) and then, when I saw how dark the water and the scarf looked, spent the entire dyeing time kicking myself for having used what I thought was too much dye. Of course I reminded myself that I wouldn't know what the actual colour was until the scarf was rinsed and dried, but that didn't help all that much. The scarf appeared to be a dark rust while simmering in the dye pot.





Here's the final result. The silk took the dye beautifully, the former dull, greenish gold turned a beautiful, rich copper colour that's extremely becoming to me, and I could hardly be more pleased with such an alchemical coup. One of my fears was that I'd wind up with a mess in my kitchen, but I didn't spill a drop of dye and never even got any on my hands. When I hung the rinsed, washed, and squeezed scarf to dry over the shower curtain bar in the bathroom, I carefully shifted the shower curtain and bathmat out of dripping range, but if that scarf dripped at all it was only clear water. The process couldn't have gone more smoothly and the results were awesome. I was left with the urge to dye everything in the house.





Here's the now copper silk scarf styled with one of my dresses, and with a skirt and top outfit. This scarf goes with two of my dresses, two of my skirts, and one pair of my trousers, besides some plain basic pieces. I'm sure I'll have plenty of chances to wear it. And now I'm looking into making and dyeing/painting a silk scarf in the coming year, since I want one in a very specific colourway and can't seem to find one that's commercially made.