Sunday, 19 February 2012

And I hate everything about you

Readers, this is a very serious post. I need to warn you.

It is possible that you may be sitting around one day without anything immediate to fill up the part of your brain that deals with urgent issues. Perhaps the bath is not leaking for a change and you do not have to regrout it. Perhaps Partner (or, your equivalent) has not got flu/ a phishing email that is confusing him/ something he wants to tell you about a realisation he has had about literary intertextuality. Perhaps the state of the house would not actually cause the man who reads the gas meter, should he perchance call by, to inform the council, so, you do not need to clean it. Perhaps you have sorted out peace in the Middle East, the Greek Default, and have already told Mr Cameron not to be so silly re: NHS reform.

At such a dangerous moment, the following thought may pop into your head: what I need to do, you may think, is, start knitting a cardigan in laceweight yarn. I know! I shall use Noro Sekku! Then my cardigan will cause people in the street to stop, throw their hands up, and say the following: gosh, is that a handknitted cardigan or is it actually Vintage Missoni which may have cost in the region of £450? My goodness, by knitting that cardigan not only have you astonished me with an innovative and quirky yarn/ pattern combination, you have assisted in the reclamation of knitting as a cool thing and not something only partaken in by 45-year-old virgins with too many cats [actually that sounds kind of attractive as a lifestyle to me, does it to you?].

Do not do it. NORO SEKKU IS ABSOLUTELY AWFUL. Look, I try to be nice and constructive on this blog, but, truthfully: it is unusable. It is overspun (apart from the bits that are not spun at all). Parts of it come apart in your hands. It has knots. It sticks to itself and knots up and you have to unravel it all the bloody time. If your hands are at all rough (and look. It is February), you have no chance at all. If you have bought a skein, I would advise you to do the following: dig a large hole in your garden, bury it, come inside and drink gin. Or, use it to tie your tomatoes to stakes. Me, I shall be finishing my cardigan as I am a masochist. But you, readers, you still have a chance: you can save yourselves. Put down the stripy laceweight yarn. Put it down and walk away slowly. I would rather watch a Loose Women marathon on TV than ever use this yarn again. And do you know what? You can actually buy Loose Women DVDs! I have seen them in Poundland! (But: don’t buy one of those either).

12 comments:

gradschoolknitter said...

Ah, yes, the siren song of Noro. So beautiful, so utterly useless.

I myself succumbed to one of their "sock" yarns once... and even made socks out of it. I can't believe they still fit, since I refuse to handwash socks (although I will hang/lay them out to dry) and I absentmindedly spit-splice the yarn in the middle of the sock where it had pulled apart for the upteenth time. (Hence, if it is early and you need the explanation as I might, showing it's felting (despite the label of superwash) properties.)

Vivianne said...

No, I squooshed some Noro in the LYS once, and it is too scratchy for me.

Peppermint Mocha Mama said...

Noro tempts me but there is a disconnect to me between the soft visual and the itchy feel and it makes me go a bit nutty for a few. Also, I can't stand the price point that it has for the size. I love good yarn - I've paid $25 a hank before and will do so again, I'm sure... but this yarn never has cast the spell over me that is seems to with other people.

If I want to be itchy and driven insane, I could go play with the kittens at the local shelter... at least I would get a giggle out of that and it wouldn't cost me anything but a refill in allergy medication.

CrochetBlogger said...

This is so interesting. I've only ever heard good things about Noro and so it's on my list to try (though I'll note I'm a crocheter not a knitter) so it's interesting to hear the flip side of that.

On a side note, I love your writing style. Your first paragraph cracked me up.

Ness said...

Oh dear....Sounds about like my experience with Noro Silk Garden fingering weight. :S I'll keep you and your stunning cardigan in my thoughts!

Susie said...

You see, I even don't mind noro sock yarn - so I have a certain base level of noro tolerance! And the colours are pretty. But why can't they spin the nice colours into something you can actually use? Are the Noro sheep all specially hard and spiky? Do they have velcro coats? I'd prefer knitting with wire wool, honestly.

(It might be easier if you crochet it, crochetblogger, although I suspect it's easier still if you set it on fire and walk away ;-) ).

Jenny said...

I only used Noro once, got it half price, to knit a wrap that I sent to a friend in Canada. I didn't mind the yarn slightly lumpy, I had the idea of luxury in my head as it contained silk and cashmere, but now I wonder if the finished article dropped to pieces, it was very lacy. Happy to take your advice on both yarn and tv viewing, thanks.

juicyknits said...

Once the knitted cardi is done, we will hate you even more for powering through and having the best looking the most impossible to copy knit. So, go on!

pagesofjulia.com said...

You slay me, Susie.

Di said...

Ah, if only I'd read this a week ago... No, if only you had written this ten days ago and then read it a week ago, I would not have been seduced by the siren song of Noro Silk Garden Sock.

I lusted for ages; maybe for the silk or maybe because it was expensive; yes, I am that shallow. Sadly, my fervour was not fulfilled. What empty promises; one would imagine I had learned my lesson from life.

Overspun, so I had to keep untangling; so thin in places that I thought of using it to remove food debris from between my molars; so thick in other places I could finally repair the cat-picked holes in the carpet; so rough on my hands, I could velcro it to said carpet (once the holes were repaired). But, oh the colours...

Couldn't risk socks; they would felt up in the wash and wear thinner at the thin bits. It is being used to make an Icelandic three-cornered shawl that nobody will wear, such glorious colours are not for outer wear. I will perhaps use the Icelandic shawl as a prayer shawl to remind me what it's like to lust in vain.

Susie said...

I am now a cat's whisker away from declaring this UNUSABLE and burning it and dancing round the flames. It actually pulls apart in my hands. Di: this is how bad this yarn is: I have used the sock yarn - and I quite like it! Sekku is worse than the sock yarn! (And wear your shawl! I bet it will be very pretty).

God. Sekku is horrible.

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