Couture Lunacy

Exploring Fashion One Thread At A Time

Will Work for Yarn

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Picture this. A 61-year-old on the corner with a cardboard sign saying “Will Work for Yarn.” Kind of like the depression – only really depressed because she NEEDS yarn. And lots of it. Or fiber to spin – that’s good too. Food would be good – she spent all the grocery money on fabric …………….

Such is my life. While trying to adhere to the spiritually simple life and not accumulating everything I see and don’t need – I. CANNOT. STOP.

I am actively selling stuff  I no longer want on Ebay in order to buy stuff I probably don’t need. Thank God I don’t use credit cards. It’s fun until you get to your credit limit (in about a day) and then the fun stops. I want them to make a credit card with flexible payments. That would get a lot of people using them again. Bad idea.

It’s not bad enough that I honestly will work for yarn – I get frustrated when my favorite yarns start selling out and I can’t buy them. There was a sale last month on Knitting Fever Silk for $15.99 a skein. Yes, that’s a sale – it’s 34.99 usually. Well all the colors I liked were gone gone gone by payday. Whimper.

Sigh. I thought I’d give you all some pictures to drool over – just in case you have a yarn obsession too. And these are all silk so hey they’d be great to knit in summer – under the apple tree in a comfy chair with Leonard Cohen on the iPod ……………… maybe a nice glass of wine next to your chair ……………….. and your family fixing dinner for you so you can finish faster …………… and everyone cleaning house so you can finish faster. And then a yarn fairy drops down beside you and says “You can buy all the yarn you want”any time you see it”, causing you to swoon …………….

 

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Author: Jennifer

I came from a family who made things. My father was a carpenter with a passion for making furniture. My mother sewed, crocheted, cooked and made a home on a shoestring. My grandmothers both quilted. As a teenager, I found batik through a wonderful art teacher who allowed me the freedom to batik yards of fabric. I then cut them up into a pattern and wore the item I made. I was ecstatic. I painted in my teens and twenties and my parents gracefully supplied me with oil paints and turpentine. When I needed an easel, my father took me to the shop where he worked and made me one. When he found unused and unwanted canvas, he brought it home and stretched it for me with wood from his shop at home. I was indulged at every step of the way. I wasn't ever told that I could not do something or that I should not do something. I was given freedom to chose my path in life. A blessed life I have lived, for sure.

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