Crochet Club

Welcome to Crochet Club.  The first rule of Crochet Club is: you do not talk about Crochet Club. The second rule of Crochet Club is: you DO NOT talk about Crochet Club!

What?
. . . Why are you looking at me like that?

Also:  This is a little preview of a type of Yarn Yuck post I like to call "Wear Something Underneath".

When I first began this blog, I was stunned by the apparent number of people who seem to think that it's okay to wear holey crochet clothes (tops, mainly) with nothing more than underwear underneath-- and sometimes not even that.  I'm here to tell you, it's not okay.  (Not with me, at any rate.)

The examples above are mild, let me tell you.  Tomorrow you shall be more fully initiated into the horror that is holey crochet fabric with too little underneath.

His Undivided Attention

Isn't this photo from a book of knitting patterns sweet?

The guy can't tear himself away from his newspaper long enough to pay real attention his wife-- who is probably the one who knit him that sweater he's wearing-- and who is (for some mysterious reason) kneeling at his side, clutching and rubbing her cheek against his thigh in a desperate attempt for affection. 

*rubbing her absentmindedly on the shoulder*

"Yes, yes, honey.  I love you, too.  Now, let's see what's on the sports page. . ."

Clownin' Around

While I've never been a real fan of clowns (or the circus atmosphere in general), I've also not suffered from an irrational fear of them.  Thoughts of squeaky red noses and giant shoes don't send a shiver down my spine.

However-- this right here?  It helps me understand where the terror comes from. 

Honestly, how was this supposed to help sell knitting patterns?

And WHY (for a certain period of time, at least) did anything to do with children invite the automatic inclusion of clowns??  "Oh, it's for kids?  Gotta slap a clown face on it, then."  It's so mystifying. . .

It's a Three-fer!

Here we have a fine example of the combination of three of the major tenets of Yarn Yuck: Outdated Hair, Awkward Pose, and Ugly Sweater:

Outdated Hair:  Feathered bangs reaching ever skyward.   Need I say more?

Awkward Pose:  Tell me, how often do you find yourself in this position?  One knee in the seat of a chair, one elbow resting artfully on the back, one hand stuffed in your (apparently quite capacious) trouser pocket.  Oh yeah, that's perfectly natural.  It's obviously been carefully selected to highlight the shape of the sweater she's modeling, which brings us to. . .

Ugly Sweater:  Maybe I'm prejudiced against this one.  Maybe it's not really that bad.  I just don't like these huge, weirdly-shaped (one might even say shapeless) sweaters-- the ones where the sleeves seem to originate from the waistline.  The "Henry the 8th in his fatter years" look.  (Yick.)  However, the frequency with which I find them suggests that maybe most people like this look. . . which, rest assured, will in no way prevent me from continuing to mock them.

What the. . .?

Yes, it's back-- the dreaded "What the. . . ?" category, reserved for only the most bizarre and/or heinous acts of knit and crochet (and possibly occasionally other yarn-related craftiness).  You never know when it will strike! 

Today, I offer up for your amusement befuddlement horror. . . CROCHET MULES:

Now, the crochet mules are embarrassing enough on their own. . .  (What is with those ballet-style laces on the middle pair?) 

. . . And the exceedingly bare (and in one case, hairy) legs take it to a whole 'nother level of ohmygosh. 

But then (if you're like me) you take a closer look at the. . . um, positioning (if you will) of the three pairs of legs. . . combined with their bareness. . . and you either shudder or burst into snorts of laugher.  Or both, either simultaneously or in rapid succession. 

Yes, you might have gone your entire life without ever picturing three people doing scandalous things while wearing (possibly nothing but) crochet mules, but thanks to me, that crisis has been averted. 

You are welcome.

"Just for Baby"

I don't know about you, but nothing makes me want to knit a darling little top and bottom like the image of a mysterious disembodied baby head. . .

What were they thinking when they designed this page?

~ ~ shimmer-shimmer dream effect à la vintage TV shows ~ ~ ("Vintage" because maybe I'm missing it, but they hardly ever seem to use the shimmer-dream transition effect in current programs, which is kind of sad, actually. . .) ~ ~

"Ok.  So we've got a photo of the baby jacket. . . and these. . . What would you call these, Bob?  Bloomers?"

"I don't know, Dave.  I always kinda thought bloomers were more frilly or somethin'. . ."

"Well, whatever they are, we've got a photo of them.  These look like baby clothes, don't ya think?  I mean, I can't picture anyone with an ounce of autonomy wearing these things, can you?  And then there's that nifty (and might I add, rather cleverly worded) line of text:  'Just for Baby'. . ."

"Some of your finest writing there, Dave."

"Thank you, Bob, thanks a lot.  But back to the point-- Do you think it's obvious enough that this is baby knitwear?  Is there anything we could do to make sure there's no possible doubt that it's meant for a baby?  I mean, we don't want to be irresponsible here and accidentally start a hideous new fashion trend among grown women."

"Hm.  I s'pose we could always get a photo or a cute line drawing of a baby."

"True, true.  We could do that.  Or-- and here's what I'm thinking-- we slap the image of a disembodied baby head up here in the corner.  Whaddya think?"

"You've done it again, Dave!"

That gauzy wisp of fabric around the bottom of the head-- the way it hides the baby's mouth from view so you can't tell if she or he is smiling, cooing, or gaping in horror-- is the perfect finishing touch.

Now, THAT's a Poncho!

Not much more to say, really. . . Just look at the thing!

. . . (and the rather fabulous black boots she wears with it!)

I can't decide whether it's awesome or horrifying.  Certainly I can't imagine wearing it, myself, but maybe I'm just a fashion-coward. 

One thing's obvious-- You can't escape notice in such a huge, vibrant poncho. 

(A question:  Was this the best the magazine could do for an issue that seems to have been devoted to "the rustic look"?  Brilliantly colored ponchos just don't scream "rustic UK" to me. Who knows what Great Britain was like in 1977, though. . .)