This is more of a tweet than a post, and it is again after midnight. There are too many things to get done in the few hours where doing is possible. But it seemed important to let you know that I no longer want the Sarah Lund sweater. Call me fickle, but I am now properly in love with a pair of rainbow woollen slipper socks and fingerless gloves - handmade by a friend who lives (and this is the honest truth) in an igloo without any of the mod cons that we all take for granted. I received them yesterday in the post, since when I have not taken them off. And I have stopped thinking about the sweater. Someone sent me a tip-off that they were selling replicas in H & M but actually, on investigation it seems that the star and snowflake motif is in every shop one looks at. Everyone wants a piece of Sarah Lund's jumper. It would obviously be terrible for my reputation if I were to be seen following the common herd, so back I go to the trusty purples shell-suit trousers.
And the other thing I wanted to say is: how is it possible that every tumbler in the house has disappeared? I simply accept that this happens with ballpoint pens and socks. But this is too much. I am drinking water from a mug. Something very weird is going on.
2 comments:
Dear sweetest you, we here in the igloo are too happy to have pleased you. Also very happy to hear you no longer want the Sarah Lund sweater. You see, my dear, that sweater is a fakified-for-tv version of a very old and trad Northern pattern (I have had countless mittens and so forth with the snowflake motif) and the tv version just had way too many snowflake stripes.
No no. What you really want to start wanting is illustrated under my name - you'll need to scroll down a bit because it seems this really is the only picture online of this very, very, very traditional and rare pattern (and I mean, in particular, the one on the right). From Greenland. Can you feel the unstoppable want rearing its head within you? I can (within me, right).
I have had one and all, you know. My great auntie (unmarried, no kids of her own) knitted one for each child in her extended family, until she just had enough. I was the last to get one of them (and one has to say, mine is nicer than the one illustrated - grey, and the patterns are so bright and beautiful, with no black). Unhappily, I was about three at the time of knitting, so I can no longer wear the thing. Both my kids have, though, and I believe it went through my younger cousins after me (and before my kids, yes).
Now this pattern, my dear, is properly beautiful and properly rare (cannot find a single knitting instruction for it online - and I will personally start an H&M hate campaign if they ever bring out a cheap and nasty handmade-with-the-wee-fingers-of-Chinese-dissidents-and/or-child-labourers version) and, of course, properly difficult. I am thinking about counting the stitches on my tiny wee three-year-old's size and adding and you know....Don't hold your breath...But I'll let you know if anything ever comes of it.
In the meantime, some handmade mwahs in your direction
x
Esteemed Igloo Dweller, beautiful as the real and authentic pattern is, I think it is something I can only really admire at a distance - in other words, not on the body of Signs, which I think would look like a teapot inside a garment such as this. A very attractive teapot perhaps, but still. Whereas shawl, hat, socks and gloves, attending to the peripheries, and in the most practical way, add adornment and draw the onlooker's attention away from teapot apprehensions, which can safely be disguised in a plain M & S dark grey lambswool sweater. One has to be realistic.
I think what we have in the SL fakified item is something a little bit Punk and possibly pastiche - which is still, if I'm honest, in its favour. Though teapot restrictions still apply.
Slipper socks are on feet as I speak - and rainbow shawl on shoulders.
Mwah!
x
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