I’ll confess – I love a good skivvy. It has this gloriously daggy connotation, and reminds me of a childhood wearing out our VHS tape of The Wiggles’ Big Red Car.
Last I wrote about my Bronwyn jumper, it was destined for the frog pond. With so many issues I couldn’t face ripping and reknitting the sleeves yet again, nor doing the calculations to make them fit the seamed yoke shaping, particularly not in a complex cable pattern. It took some time away for me to realise I couldn’t give up that close to finishing, so I put on my patternmaker hat, finished the sleeve maths and then the jumper itself, an exact year after casting on.
After starting with fair isle hats, the next progression in my colourwork knitting was a yoked jumper. The classic style of a colourwork yoke knit in the round above a plain knit body seems to have been around forever, but it is in fact a fairly recent invention – Bohus-style jumpers appeared in Sweden c. 1940, followed by Icelandic lopi yokes (or lopapeysa) in the 1950s.* They really took off in the 60s and 70s, then as now contributing to Iceland’s national identity and tourist trade.
If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you’ll know my love for Burda and their shirt patterns in particular. A couple of years back, I made the Burda 04/2010 #114 long-sleeved blouse which became my most-loved and worn button up shirt. When it finally hit the dust (RIP shirt), I didn’t think twice before replacing it.