Tuesday, February 16, 2010
I KNEW I was taking things too far, but it made me grin and I didn’t want to stop, so that officially makes this Irony Craft, which means I get to hold on to the vestige of dignity.
Hang on! Who am I kidding? Any dignity vestige or remaining street cred scrap, fled over the horizon the moment I smuggled the crochet hook in to the chic bar. In my defence, the pals were typically late. And I’m just not talented at the ‘waiting gaze’ (indifferent but sultry but offhand but intelligent stare into middle distance).
’Course the experimental, big string, knitting-without-looking, can easily revert to doormat – or better yet, to doing what string does best (tying stuff). I have pondered popping along to some dance club for a boogie* and throwing my knitted number into the middle of one of those girls-dancing-in-a-circle-phenomenon things – just to see if it holds it’s own in Bagworld. There are some tiny holes drilled into the handles/knitting needles to avoid dropped stitchery and the points are sanded right back to avoid eye gougery. So, you know, it’s somewhat feasible.
Alternatively, there is the low-key irony option: the Knitted Knitting Bag.
* An event that has not occurred since back when people said ‘boogie’.
PS. It weighs a tonne.
PPS. It also, inexplicably, smells like cow poo. Albeit in a pleasant, ‘don’t you love the smell of the country?’ fashion.
PPPS. For this reason, I am yet to tackle irony outings involving enclosed space.