First Person
To All the Sweaters I’ve Loved Before
Last year, I took two sweaters I’d made to a clothing swap. There was something significant in offering that vest and that cardigan to others. I’d finally moved beyond keeping sweaters I’d knit just because I’d knit them. The two items found appreciative homes, and I left feeling satisfied.
Editor’s Note: This is a real picture of the real Claudia in the sweater she happily rehomed.
Nonetheless, there are sweaters I’ve knit or owned whose absence haunts me. I recoil at the callousness I displayed in letting them go.
One such sweater was the only sweater my grandmother ever knit for me. Somewhere around the age of 12, I received a boatneck sweater in a red mohair-mix. It was knit in a simple garter stitch. None of my grandparents were very present in my life growing up.
I can’t recall how or when that sweater left my possession. While I clearly wouldn’t be wearing it now (I am no longer age-12-sized), I miss it as one of the few physical objects that spoke of a familial relationship; something that reminded me I was somebody’s grandchild.
While I have plenty of knit items I’ve let go and now miss, there are two specific sweaters that even if I’m not sure I’d wear them now, I wish I still had in my possession.
Let’s start with the first sweater I ever knit for myself.
I was a self-taught knitter and as any knitter—fresh or seasoned—has done, I picked up some random skeins of wool at a yard sale. If I remember correctly, there were no ball bands or any kind of label with them.
In my optimism, I took them to my LYS (the now-closed Greenwich Yarn in San Francisco). I can imagine the eye roll when I brought them in and said I was looking for a pattern to use them in. At the time, I’d only ever knit baby sweaters, having taught myself to knit while pregnant, and those were pretty basic.
One of the employees found a pattern for me: a Tahki pattern for a rollneck sweater with cables. I discovered I only had enough yarn for the cables and would have to buy more yarn. I’d never done cables before, and so, I learned how to work both cables and intarsia at the same time.
This sweater and the one below are not the sweaters Claudia regrets giving away. Any pictures of them have been lost to the sands of time. These two images are AI generated and capture the haze of memory while also failing to resemble functional garments once you really look at them.
The final sweater was fuchsia tweed with pink and purple cables. I had that sweater for years, and it made the trip from San Francisco to Washington, DC, and then to Brooklyn.
Ten years after I made it, I put it in a black garbage bag to give to the thrift store in a Marie-Kondo-esque fit of whittling down my possessions (hereafter known as “the Brooklyn purge”). I let it go without another thought, only to have it boomerang back to memory some years later.
The second sweater was another ambitious undertaking. While visiting my parents in Norway (where my father was stationed), I went to a yarn shop. When I think about what I did and didn’t know about knitting back then, I have to shake my head.
I had no sense of Norwegian knitting traditions or designs, so it’s probably not surprising that I came back with some skeins of mohair in yellow and pink that I’d found in a sale bin. I’d bought all the remaining skeins, hoping there would be enough for a sweater. I figured I could make them work.
And I did, thanks to Elle magazine, who used to publish knitting patterns in the back of the magazine in the 1980s. There it was—a pattern for a mohair cardigan! Clearly, it had been meant to be. So, I knit a pink and yellow oversized open front cardigan with dropped shoulders.
It, too, was a victim of the Brooklyn purge. At the time, my partner and I were moving in together. Was there something in my mind about letting go of an old sense of self, had I simply given in to the opportunity to lighten my load, or was there some other motivation at play?
I’ll probably never know. I just know that I miss that pink and yellow mohair sweater for some unknown reason. It doesn’t tug at my sentimentality like the Tahki sweater, but it does hover around the edges of my memory.
I can only hope that, like the two sweaters I brought to the swap, they found appreciative homes. Maybe someone recognized them as an abandoned handknits and adopted them. That would give me some satisfaction.
I recently purchased a simple hand-knit black wool cardigan at an estate sale. I didn’t really need it but purchased it more to honor the maker. I will wear it if the heat ever breaks and tell the story of where it came from.
I remember the patterns in the back of Elle magazine!! I was a teenager and my mom knit me a yellow cotton pullover that I loved and sadly got rid of at some point.
I loved those patterns too! I wasn’t really a knitter back then, but there was a cotton cabled sweater that I wanted to make so badly…sadly I never did it!!!
One of the first sweaters I made is still with me! I have never been able to duplicate it. I took to visible mending and it now has more patches than actual sweater! But, I still wear it and love it!
Many moons ago I knit myself a cabled golden dress. In the foolishness of youth, I gave it away. What I wouldn’t do to have that dress back even though it would not fit but I could exclaim over what a great dress I had once made.
I have purged some handknits and regifted some but I have saved the first sweater I made with “good” yarn and a fairly complicated pattern that fit perfectly. It’s 37 years old.
I also have a heavy wool crocheted double-breasted jacket my grandmother made for my mom 74 years ago — yes, 74 years! Classic pattern and I still wear it. I’ve replace the buttons, removed the worn lining and repaired spots where the yarn wore out, but it is such a testament to the endurance of a good handmade item.
Gosh, I’d like to wear them both today….only it’s 90 degrees.
I still have my first sweater, it doesn’t really fit anymore, and even when it did it was hard to put my head through the neck, since I knew nothing about stretchy bind offs (and I have a big head). But I’ve carried it around for 30 some years now….
And nevermind the sweaters AI designed, that second model in the pink has 6 fingers!
Oh my goodness! She does!! So weird!
too creepy
Ha ha ha!
Yikes, AI cannot even get that right.
That’s creepy!
Maybe you can knit yourself new (more expertly knit) versions of these sweaters now?
Not the same – maybe without intarsia cables – but reprised.
Thanks for this
I too recall the Elle patterns.
Oh what I would give for several sweaters that my great-aunt Johanna from Norway knit for my older brothers, probably 65 + years ago. My mom gave them to me for my first born son who is now 37 years old…all I have is pictures of him in one of them. Oh so sad…what ever happened to that sweater??? I really have no idea!
When I was a young mom with a passions ofor knitting but not much money for yarn, I knit a cabled cotton sweater out of Sugar and Cream because that was all I could afford. I wore it for years and then my oldest daughter took it over and it became the sole sweater that went with her on a three month stay in China. The sweater came home and took a break after which Daughter #2 took it over. It went to England for a semester abroad and then traveked through Italy before coming home. Along the way a little mending took place and I think at some point I re-knit the neckband, but nothing I knit before or after has seen so much of the world.
My mother was not a knitter, but I still have several beautiful items that she sewed for me when I was in my 20s (a few decades ago). They hang in the far reaches of the closet out of easy reach (I’m not my 20-something size anymore), but not completely out of mind. Just a way to feel her love long after she left us.
And I still have my first sweater somewhere!
If you can’t “bear” to part with a cherished sweater, check out @burrabears on Shetland. She turns these sweaters into adorable stuffed bears and they can be cherished forever.
I don’t remember the Elle patterns in the magazine but the Elle knitting book was the first pattern book I purchased as a new knitter. I proceeded to knit a pullover from it while making every rookie mistake possible. One day I’ll start over and reknit the pullover I actually was hoping for.
Thank you for the smile this morning. I am now wondering where a couple of my early attempts are in the world too.
This sounds very familiar. I grew up knitting with a great aunt. Knit all my sweaters in high school. All are gone.
A family tradition was to get a knitted shawl and tatted hand kerchief for first communion. Still have those and will never part with them . Still in great shape.
Love this journey with your knits.
1989. I bought a sweater kit from ELLE magazine. I knew nothing of knitting but I had intentions. 2010. I decided to act on my intentions. Knit miles and miles of stockinette to practice. Went on to other projects and WIP’s and FO’s and stash and minis. So I am now educated as to the gloriousness of that first kit yarn. I must still have that “scarf.” New intention: Find that yarn and REUSE . *Slow learner “No last page of the book of knitting.” “Better doesn’t have an end.” “Don’t waste summer.”
I forgot about those patterns in the back of Elle! One of the first sweaters I ever made was from one of those patterns, they were great
I love all of this however my favorite part is the totally non functional AI sweater.
Thank you!
Sweet thoughts about old friends! I have several sweaters I’ll never wear again but can’t part with, also a single sleeve of my very first knit, for my boyfriend, for which one sleeve was 4” longer than the other. He no longer exists, of course (boyfriend
sweaters being the curse they are) but maybe I could frog the sleeve and reuse the 60 year old red wool. Mm hmm. Recently I inherited several gorgeous crocheted tops and a knit skirt from a dear friend. I’ve carefully washed everything (the tops could be current Anthropologie offerings) and will try to find homes deserving of this wearable art.
When I was nine, my grandmother taught me to knit and I knitted a bright green cabled cardigan (simple cables) for 4-H. It was very big on me. I received a red ribbon (second prize) for it at the fair. I remember it floating around, as I grew into it, wearing it around the house a lot, and occasionally to school, and then outgrew it. No idea what happened to it. Wish I at least had a picture of it. I loved my grandma!
gosh – sitting here enjoying my snippets and this article — and I get hit in all the feels as this makes me realize when does a thing stop being a thing and becomes a Thing? What do I have that I already recognize I can’t part with? Like my Grandma’s aluminum “fudge” pan, scratched and warped, and now used more for roasting a chicken than Christmas fudge. hmmm life metaphor much? 🙂 Anyway – before this never cry, don’t hug gal reflects on much more and starts to get meloncholy and tear up at the Things I let go, I’ll shift my focus to convincing my daughters that my yarn stash is more assuredly a Thing!!
Our Knitting Tribe is well known for handing off knits that don’t fit quite right to another knitter that will fill it out perfectly.
I have long since purged all of my early knits, most of which were made in the 1980s and are not regretted; ironic that those poofy sleeves are coming back, but I really don’t have any nostalgia for the 80s aesthetic.
The one sweater I would love to have now was a gift for my sister who passed away two years ago. It was a pattern in Knit It! Magazine; it had an intarsia heart on the front, and was made with wide stripes of a lovely heathered silk blend. The colours were soft (pink, purple, blue, green etc) and it was probably the most expensive thing I had ever made to that point. When my sister died I tried to find it as a keepsake but it had disappeared, no doubt purged by her long ago. I still have the pattern, and I see her whenever I look at it (sadly I don’t have a picture of her wearing it). Someday I will muster the courage to knit it again.
I still have the first sweater I knit. A full-on Aran pullover that took me a long, long time when I was just 14. I loved cabled knits then, still love them now, five decades later. It was huge on me in high school, a bit too snug to wear now. It’s acrylic, the sensible choice at the time — and no moth holes now!
Horrifying mutant AI garbage.
I’m shocked to find you using plagiarism software at MDK. This stuff trains on copyrighted material – you’re stealing from the people you’re marketing to. And it’s environmentally ruinous – each prompt given, not just each ugly, cursed, messed-up-cable trash image you post, is like pouring an entire 16oz bottle of water on the ground.
I will be watching for a retraction, apology, and statement against the use of plagiarism software at MDK. I will definitely not be making any future purchases if I don’t see that.
Oh, Claudia! This makes me think of so many long-gone sweaters; knitted for my children, friends, and myself…
May they be in good hands.
This resonated with me — the projects I worked on as a teenage knitter, which I let go, without even taking a photo. I wish instead of using (ugh!) AI (LLM actually, plagiarism in reality) you’d drawn a picture of your sweater, no matter how wonky your drawing ability might be. I’d love to see your drawing of how your remember your sweater with “intarsia and cables at the same time” as well as your pink and yellow mohair creation. And in fact, I think I’ll make some drawings of the yellow halter with a duplicate embroidery watermelon slice made out of very itchy wool that I knit when I was 16. I wonder what happened to it but it deserves a page on my Ravelry!
I still have the first sweater I knit only because I never finished it. The front and back are together but the sleeves were never picked up and then seamed. I’m not even going to tell how many years ago that was.