Often times, it’s the story that gets me. A story from my life, a story of how a garment came to be, a story of the materials.
Here’s the story of my new shawl.
It started in NYC in the halls of the VK Live market place.
No. It started with Ellen’s obsession.
Still further back. It started in Maine, in the cottage, with Amy Lou hooking away on her Wingfeathers, designed by Cal.
The pattern was on my mind. As soon as holiday knitting is finished, I promised myself.
And then I was in Jill Draper’s VK Live booth with Gale, and she picked up a skein of Rifton and said Wingfeathers. You might have felt the world shift a little then. I did. Kirsten felt the pull, and so did Jani, making hers in glorious Starcroft Fog.
We hooked long into the night, at every chance the next day. Hooked in the pop-up shop, and hooked while eating cheese. Hooked on the train, and then, as my semester started, I hooked every moment I didn’t have to work on class prep.
Every inch of Rifton that flowed through my hands delighted me. You can read the yarn’s story here. 
That’s part of what makes this shawl special to me, knowing the care that went into making the yarn. And part of the shawl’s story is like many hand-crafted garments’ stories: making the same project with a group of folks you really, really like, knowing that the stitches were hooked with laughter and good conversation. And part of the shawl’s story is making a pattern from a designer who embodies ethical elegance and is immensely likable. And part of the shawl’s story is absent friends who’ve been hooking their own shawl in their own corners of the world.
And part of the shawl’s story is just starting to unfold! Oh, the stories it will tell years from now!
Tell me a story, willya? I’d love to hear about a hand crafted item of yours that is rich in story.
