Knitwear is all full of contradictions. One can hardly make sense of its complications. A yard of vivid woven calico is two dollars, a yard of gray t-shirt jersey is ten. Knitwear requires little shaping, but is tricky to sew Everyone in this coffee shop is wearing it except for a table of what appear to be retired teachers, all wearing white, sometimes green, blouses. Those blouses might even have a tinge of lyrca in them. Despite knitwear’s ubiquity, one can hardly find good patterns for it. I face difficult decisions, sewing for the gym: somewhere between yoga pants and leggings there exists a happy, stretchy pant, just like the one between sweat pants and bloomers. But this ideal is elusive; no one else seems to even search for it. Some days I castle build a world without knitwear. Would a pilates class, then, even exist?
