Like many crocheters, the first time I successfully executed a line of single stitches was under the guidance of someone I love.
If memory serves, though it frequently does not, the breakthrough occurred on a Saturday just a few weeks before one of the big lockdowns in 2020. I had tried to fumble through making crochet bucket hats a few times prior, but the YouTube tutorials I turned to weren’t cutting it (not to mention I had started in the round; a big mistake for a first-timer).
My friend was patient. She never showed any signs of frustration, even when I was forced to unravel my first line of stitches for the 20th time.
As I struggled through, she worked on her own scarf-in-progress, happily putting her project down whenever I needed my grip adjusted or a reminder of when to loop my yarn. When I finally got it, like really got it, I was hooked.
From Gen-Z crafting groups created by socially conscious makers to more traditional stitch-and-bitch groups like those frequented by my mother, humans have used crafting to build community for years. While I haven’t personally attended a crafting group per-se, I have spent many hours sitting, knitting, bitching and watching so-bad-they’re-good rom-coms with other makers.
Through this, albeit limited, frame of reference, I see the act of creating with others as the antithesis to the lack of community that’s been sneaking up on us since Covid times. It’s a modern antidote to isolation and a way to combat the lazy, low-effort catch-ups that seem to permeate our collective adult friendships.
Am I verging on tangent territory? Perhaps. But what I’m trying to say is that a real girly-pop-style crafting session requires dedication. Participants wouldn’t simply finish off a few rows of single crochet stitches and call it a day. You’d need to block out a much more generous time slot than you would for, say, a typical coffee date. Showing up means completing a solid chunk of your current project, of going back and picking up those dropped stitches that you’ve been avoiding for weeks and complaining to sympathetic ears as you do so.
And yes, we’re seeing more and more crochet boleros and balaclavas popping up on Pinterest pages, and the ability to create wardrobe staples by hand is great for sustainable fashion, but for me, the feminine solidarity that comes from passing down skills is what embeds these hobbies with their magic. Crafting is meaningful and rewarding, and when done with people you love, I think it’s a way to create community, too.
With all this talk about connection, I think I’d be remiss to yap about crafting without the input of others. Luckily, I didn’t have to go far to find it: I have three lovely and talented crafters on speed dial for yarn-related emergencies such as this.
How did you get started with crafting, and what drew you to it?
Arnie: My Gran taught me to knit when I was 15. She took me to Spotlight, and I insisted on getting a pattern for this nasty-looking multicoloured jumper. It was cute that she didn’t try to get me to buy something else – it was a truly fugly sweater – and she really just let me get it. We sat on the couch together, and she taught me to knit, but she did it like in Ghost where she was Patrick Swayze and I was Demi Moore (duh).
My Gran is someone who will have a good go at anything. There was one time that I went to her house, and she was learning how to make stone portrait sculptures of me and my sister – and I would like to think that in the process, some of that attribute has rubbed off on me.
I still send her photos of the things I knit, and my mum tells me that she shows them off to all of her golf friends, even though she usually forgets to reply to me. I feel like maybe crafts can bridge a generational gap this way. Since they don’t change too much over time, it creates common ground.
Teagan: Growing up, I’d watched my Gran crochet blankets and baby clothes. I have always been fascinated by how a simple hook and some yarn could create something so detailed and unique. When I was 14, I asked her if she could show me how. She spent the next few weeks patiently teaching me simple stitches – emphasis on patiently.
Christina: When I was little, my ‘fun aunt’ used to knit. While she was living with us, I asked her to teach me, and I definitely wasn’t any good at the beginning! Then, during high school, I decided to re-learn (YouTube tutorials are your best friend for picking it back up).
Has your crafting practice resulted in any social opportunities that you’re grateful for?
Teagan: I actually taught Paris [the writer of this piece]. I remember sitting in the lounge of her old Mt Eden flat in front of the fire and beginning with a simple chain; she got the hang of it pretty quickly. Fast-forward a few months; it had been a while since we’d seen each other, and then bam, she’d crocheted the cutest checker tote bag with a pretty clean finish. #proud.
Christina: I’ve semi-taught someone else, but I felt it was so hard not to take over when they were making mistakes. Since then, I’ve had more experienced crafter-friends over to knit and watch TV together. It’s impressive to see what others can make, and their work always inspires my future projects.
Arnie: Knitting has always been a solitary activity for me, but I recently went to a knitting workshop with Geo Knits, and it was so cute! We were making little handbags out of old T-shirts, and we all chatted and knitted.
I think I’ve also used knitting as a way to “productivise” my anxiousness, and it doubles as a pretty solid excuse not to socialise. So, I think that by going to this workshop I was trying to see if I could carve out more space for community in my making process.
What’s your favourite part about your creation process?
Teagan: I kind of love not knowing how the project is going to turn out. When creating something without a pattern and freehanding it, there’s no way of knowing if it’s going to look exactly how you wanted it to or if it’s going to be a complete disaster. But that’s the fun of it. Trying things and seeing what works and what doesn’t. I’ve probably thrown away more projects than I’ve kept!
Arnie: The actual knitting process for me has now become meditative and robotic, which I really enjoy, but I think my favourite part is designing and making the pattern.
Patternmaking is organising a messy idea into a useful real-world object, and it is so satisfying when you finish knitting, and it fits exactly how you calculated it. Excel has become my best friend, which I never would have expected.
My favourite part is giving the thing to whoever I made it for (because I hardly ever make stuff for myself). It is so validating, and it makes me feel useful in a way.
Christina: I’m always proud when I push through and finish my projects (and overcome the ugly stages; all projects have them). It helps when I avoid overwhelming myself and make sure I only do one project at a time.
What inspires your creative practice?
Arnie: I think my creative practice is propelled by a constant need to be busy and a constant need to sit down. I also find colour combinations a huge drive for me; I love going to the wool store and just holding balls of yarn next to each other and seeing if they do anything for me. At the moment I like the idea of mixing practicality with garishness, and I try to put this into anything I make.
Teagan: Honestly, everything! Pinterest, other crocheters and fashion pieces I love. I have a rule: If I see something in a store that I want and it’s crocheted, I won’t buy it. If I want it, I have to make it. It’s so much cheaper and more rewarding to make it yourself.
Christina: I always feel the desire to make something when I see cool projects on Instagram. That feeling of “I could make that” is what sets me off and inspires me to start a project.
Talking to others about their experiences with crafting does a great job of igniting a sense of nostalgia, particularly when rehashing the first time I crocheted.
When I dig my first scarf out of my keepsake box, which is 90% dropped stitches and 100% cheap acrylic, I don’t feel frustrated at its lack of refinement (and those who know me personally will know that this is very uncharacteristic). Sure, I’d never wear it in public, but that doesn’t matter; this one raggedy thing perfectly illustrates the intimacy of crafting and the nuances of adult friendship.
Making things together is the type of catch-up that shows you’re willing to invest your time, energy and knowledge into your friends. It’s the kind that shows you love them and are loved by them, too.
