*So… I scheduled this post to come out yesterday, but made a mistake on the month… Apologies! Here it is today, 12th Oct*
I am usually late to the party when it comes to viral trends; that is, if I ever decide to embrace them at all. A while ago however, there was a knitting pattern called Sailor Slippers that garnered a lot of attention, and I filed it in my brain as Something To, Maybe, Perhaps, Try One Day. I never expected it to come to anything, as my ADHD brain often has its own crafting agenda.
As it happens, my brain actually nudged me 3 weeks ago, and as I was vending at the Scottish Yarn Festival I was tempted by a fellow vendor’s wares and bought the yarn to knit said slippers. I chose two colours, black and purple. Both yarns in Aran weight have little bits of tweed that complemented each other.
I decided to also use some very old stash yarn, two single-ply and very bulky mystery skeins in black and teal for the soles and edge trims.
Now, the keen minds among you may have noticed one tiny, barely remarkable, detail: the yarns I was using weren’t of the same weight or, indeed, the same brand or composition. Yes, they were wool and non-superwash, but that was likely the end of the similarities. Nothing wrong can come of this, right?…
The way this pattern works is, you knit the slippers in a specific size and, once you’re done, you machine wash them and they should shrink and felt. Here they are before felting, fit for a giant. The aran weight yarn was doubled to reach appropriate gauge.
I would have normally worried a little bit at this stage, but having seen other projects out there (there are literally hundred of thousands), I knew the very oversized look was expected. Next step, knit the top trim, then machine wash. Voilá, a pair of Sailor Slippers ready to be worn.
Reader, they didn’t fit me. The bulky, single-ply yarn shrunk decently, but the top one refused to shrink like it was meant to. Into the machine it went again. Then once more.
I apologise for not taking a picture of the slippers on my foot, but by this point I was getting frustrated with the lack of progress and just wanted to see the back of this thing.
However. I am nothing if not stubborn, so I decided to do one more thing before calling it quits: hand felting.
If you know me, you know that wet felting is not my forte. It’s definitely not something I have a lot of experience doing, and I know the fulling process can take hours.
I tried, I really did. I alternated very hot and quite cold water; I rubbed it with soap. I told it to cooperate or else. All I got was fuzzier wool and not much, if any, extra shrinkage. In ultimate despair, I popped them in the tumble dryer. Nothing changed!
At this point I was ready to call it quits and forget I ever did this.
I vented my frustration to my other half. He listened and commiserated. That’d be the end of it…
…then I looked at his big feet. “Put them on,” I told him. Can you guess what happened next?
They. Fit.
At this point I didn’t know whether to be glad my time hadn’t been wasted, or to go bang my head against a hard surface. You see, my husband isn’t what we’d call Knit Worthy. It’s not that he’s not appreciative of the hard work that goes into a handmade garment, but he either overheats, or complains it’s itchy (gasp, merino wool, itchy?!)
I’ve now told him he has to wear these slippers often to appease the gods of wool, otherwise my next knitting project shall be cursed. I’ll also try not to look at his feet when he’s wearing them as I’d love to forget how much this did not go my way.
Want to share a “failed” project with me in the comments section? I’ll commiserate with you!