The Problem With Bandwagons

First there's the whole falling on part. The "50,000 French men (or, if you're a knitter, however many thousands of Ravel-ers) can't be wrong" mindset by which one lets oneself be seduced. That siren call, "But Mom, everybody's doing it/getting one" that leads one over the cliff while the rest of the lemmings stand there, pointing fingers and mocking one. One feels a curious affinity for the mosquito in Bug's Life who flies into the bug zapper because he "can't help himself, it's so beautiful."

Which bandwagon have I in mind? The Noro striped scarf.

I could blame that need I feel to write about a variety of knitting projects in a feeble attempt to keep you all from falling asleep before you reach the end of a post. I could fasten on Brooklyn Tweed, Now Norma Knits and the Yarn Harlot as enablers of the most dastardly sort, the good knitters. I could make all those Ravel-ers who have managed to churn out Noro scarves that are truly works of art into guilty parties to my fall. I could point a finger at Kay for bringing striped scarves in general into the forefront of my consciousness.

In fairness, Brooklyn Tweed's instructions are clear and clever. I especially like the way he figured out that if you slip the first and last stitch of every other row you'll get the same effect as if you'd slipped the first stitch of every row, except the slipped stitches will match the stripes. Well, I did once I figured out that I was supposed to move my yarn into position for that last purl stitch before I slipped it.

Norma's advice to wind the yarns into balls instead of arguing with them and the way they fight both coming off the skein and each other was brilliant. I wish I had read it before I started knitting.

The sad truth, however, is that Noro and I just don't get along. Never have. Never will. I don't like the feel of the yarn. I don't like the long stretches where it looks like it was spun out of rags. I don't like the knot I've found in every skein I've ever knit with. I despise how it clings to itself, twisting and tangling into the nastiest snarls it has ever been my misfortune to swear at.

With such an attitude, is it any surprise that I have achieved the dubious distinction of being the only knitter on the entire Internet who has found a truly ugly combination of colors for her Noro Silk Garden striped scarf? Christmas, meet pressed lint.

In fact, I have achieved something further. I have done it twice.

And there you have the other problem with bandwagons, the falling off part.

I wonder if there's much call for Noro Silk Garden striped nose-wipes.