Tag Archives: Socks

I decided to call my newest and latest sock project “Le Fauve” after the distinctive work of the school of painters of the same name.  The Fauvists painted in strong colours, using simple and often crude brush strokes, not letting realism get in the way of the beauty of strident, clashing and sometimes shocking blocks of colour.  At the time of its inception in the early twentieth century the work was seen as too shocking, garnering criticisms such as “A pot of paint has been flung in the face of the public” from the critic Camille Mauclair, but the spirit of this body of work still germinates of a lot of today’s art.
The colours of the Kureyon sock wool I used for these socks are slightly shocking in their intensity and refusal to blend into a nice tonal array of like complementary colours, but that is what drew me to this yarn in the first place.
Later edit: I thought “fauve”also meant “wild beast”, and on consulting a French dictionary I read “wildcat”.  So…  Reaooooooow! (snarling accompanied by claw-slash)

Below: at left, Woman with a Hat, Henri Matisse; at right, Charing Cross Bridge, Andre Derain; below a work by Paul Gaugin

So these are socks I knitted this winter, using leftovers.  The top part (my favourite part) is the leftover Grignasco yarn from here, below that is the last remnants of the Patonyles wool (the shrink-tastic one) and the lowest part going down to the toes is some new sock yarn I bought this year for this purpose; a brand called Koigu, 100% Merino wool made in Canada.  Up until I spotted this yarn I didn’t know Canadians were into Merino like us Aussies and Kiwis here, so there you go…. learn something new every day…
Like my twee little name suggests (and please accept my apologies for the weak humour) I made these socks easily long enough for my foot and then a little more some, just in case of a reoccurrence of the dreaded washing machine shrinkage.
Although this.  Will.  Not.  Occur.  (gritted teeth, shaking fist threateningly at washing machine)

These did not start out life as bedsocks, but as proper socks deserving of wearing outside of the house.  Now they look just awful and I’m a bit embarrassed to put them up here, but they are handmade by me so here they are…  Unfortunately these were one pair of the three victims of that notorious Day of the Disastrous Too-Warm Wash and have shrunk (you’ve seen all of these now), and have been delegated to my daughter’s sock drawer.  I’m so lucky she has smaller feet than me (I have HUGE feet) and can wear these socks… 
These were made using the Pastonyle sock wool, which has a very high wool content and a low synthetic content, a no-no for sock wool as it turns out…  it’s my own fault for not separating them out from the general washing pile of garments that are a little hardier.  Nowadays I wash all the socks on a wool cycle and have no more nasty surprises when I hang up the washing… we live and learn.

Below; another little face that popped up at me, a sad face this time…  It’s strangely ironic that this face appears to be crying, on a day when the skies are weeping copiously too, no?

I think these are my favourite “me-made” socks (so far)
I bought two balls of Grignasco Strong print yarn, 75% wool, made in Italy.  Totally love these colours here.  They make me think of an old Master oil painting, of velvet and tarnished brass.  It’s so appropriate to my mind that this is Italian yarn, as these shades sum up my impressions of the big Italian cities that I have visited; the aged sophistication and dark rich sumptuousness of Carnevale di Venezia, brocades and frescoes.
Oh I know, right, these are just socks we’re talking about here, but the colours of an item can often transport me off into fantasy land like so…
On a practical note, the lower wool content has meant these socks have never shrunk in the wash, and are still in perfect condition after a year of wear!

‘Nother pair o’ socks.
These are made entirely of the Patonyle’s wool, but following the shrinkage disasters of the other socks made with this particular wool I’ve been a lot more careful in the laundering of this pair and they still fit me.  Just.  Looking at this photo I can see my heel isn’t really situated in the heel of the socks.. oh, well, may have to pass these ones on too…  I actually originally bought four balls of this wool, in this colour, which looking back was a kind of insane thing to do.  What was I thinking?  The result is lots of pairs of socks in this colour and in this impractical yarn.  I’ve tried to make each pair just a little different in some way.  These ones have a row of cable up the sides.
When my kids were little I used to get them multiple pairs of socks all the same; the idea was that I wouldn’t have to pair them up after washing, or hunt about for that elusive missing half of a “favourite” pair.  I reasoned that if they were all identical there would be no dramas, no wailing “but I have to wear my pink dotty socks with the bow!!”.  And it was a great scheme, those heady days when I was in total control of the sock-choosing-and-buying.  Oh how times have changed.  Now they’re all grown up, and all of us in the house have our own sock collection, suited to our personalities, chosen as whim, fancy and fashion takes us.  Matching up those gazillion unique pairs of socks is one of my daily chores.  FUN!

This is another pair of socks made from leftover wool (the stripe) and the plain blue Patonyle sock wool I bought to help eke out the leftovers… these socks have shrunk to the extent that only my daughter can wear them.  I’m just relieved she likes them; she says they’re nice and warm.  It’s hard to believe they once fitted my feet!!  
It’s obvious in this picture that the blue stripe sock wool (Italian) has laundered and worn far better than the Patonyles (Australian) wool; which has shrunk and pilled and felted somewhat… a lesson in sock wool purchasing for the future…  it probably just means the acrylic content in the Italian wool is higher, normally I would plump for the pure wool product every time but an acrylic component is a desirable evil in a sock wool.  Particularly in my household with its high teenage population, where tossing the socks in the washing machine is always going to win out over handwashing…
This morning I was telling my friend E about my self-imposed 6 month shopping ban and she reacted with the same incredulity that all my friends have (what a funny thing to do! why on earth are you doing that? the general response)  It’s funny that my 6 months is almost at an end (end of June! not that I’m counting!) and it’s only just now I’m telling my friends about it.  Why is this?  I shouldn’t be ashamed, but proud.  Maybe I was afraid of failing?  However there it is, I’ve been too embarrassed to tell my closest friends until now…  E wondered if I was going to rush out and spend up three times as much as I would have, but I truly think my shopping habits may be permanently changed by the exercise.  Not that I’ve ever been a big shopper by any means as I’ve habitually made such a lot of my wardrobe.  And my shopping habits have always been to buy high quality, infrequently, and that won’t change.
But high up on the shopping agenda will be some new sunglasses (I’ve lost mine and am borrowing Cassie’s lately!) and some underthings (I know some clever people make their own, but I prefer to spend my sewing time making other garments and just buy the undies!)
Today’s random picture below; taken by Sam

Knitted to use up the leftovers of this colourful wool, and also using some Patonyle’s sock wool in airforce blue; the colours on these socks remind me of a springtime flower bed against a stormy blue sky.  Such a pretty mix of crimson, white, coral, primrose, apricot and green.  Very sadly the blue Patonyle’s wool doesn’t stand up well to washing in the machine and these shrank when once  I hadn’t taken care to switch the machine to a cold cycle.  (head slap) Grrr!  Usually I remember this very important step in washing my hand-knitted socks!  (Did I mention the twenty hour thing?  Not lately? Then let me just slip in that fact again, yes, twenty odd hours of knitting…you would think I’d be more careful)
 They now perfectly fit my daughter, who accepted them into her sock drawer and is modelling them here today.  Can you tell she did ballet as a littlie?  That pointed toe!
Today’s random picture below; little abandoned green jelly man, seen on my walk this morning