A Stitch in Time.

Thanks to the wonders of email and the internet, sometimes you come across things that are just too awesome not to share. After trying for awhile to come up with something pithy to write about this, I decided that the text on the history of the Ohio Knitting Mills in Cleveland, Ohio should be best left to them:

Founded by Harry Stone in 1928, the Ohio Knitting Mills grew to become one of the country’s largest knitwear producers, and was at the center of Cleveland, Ohio’s thriving garment industry. Three generations of the Stone-Rand family ran the Mill for 76 years, producing knitwear for iconic department stores from Sears to Saks, and revered labels like Pendleton, Van Heusen, and Jack Winter.

The Ohio Knitting Mills took up an entire city block, and employed up to 700 workers. Their products ranged from the sublime to the everyday, and from 1947 -1974 the mill’s production and creativity were at a peak- knitting up caps, capes, sweaters, shirts, vests, dresses, and pants with bold colors, inventive patterns, quality materials, innovative techniques and a good dose of a strong Midwestern work ethic.

After World War II, the Mill plucked samples of each style they produced and put them into storage. Five decades later, this archive had grown into a vast collection of remarkable design artifacts, representing mainstream fashion from the classic 40’s, fab 50’s, swinging 60’s, and funky 70’s. We’ve opened this time capsule, and offer to you our collection of perfectly preserved American fashion and industrial craftsmanship. (Text from here).

I was especially happy to note that one of the family’s plants in Minnesota made Mr. Roger’s cardigans. Like most children of the 70s, I was so in love with Mr. Rogers. But he lost me whenever he went into the creepy Neighborhood of Make Believe with the creepy puppets. If you, too, are a fan of Mr. Rogers’ and would like a similar cardigan to one that the man himself wore, then check out this little gem below. Although Mr. Rogers clearly seems to favor the zipped cardigan over the button-up one (discovered after extensive internet photo research-Who knew?), they still look pretty much the same.

And for the ladies, there are some truly wonderful items that are “limited edition” (there were under 40 found in the mill) and “premium vintage” (last one left). Bizarrely enough, I swear my grandmother has this top still, and is still just as bright and patriotic as in the photo. The men’s items are only available in “premium vintage. In case you’re keeping up, why yes, I do turn 34 next month! And really would look adorable in this.

Hoorah for discovering old wonderful things in great condition that bring you back to the past. An even bigger hoorah for realizing that items from the past should be cherished instead of dumped. What a lovely bit of textile exploration and discovery this find must have been! Could you imagine what we would find if the items from all the mills that have closed over the past century had kept their stock? I’d like to think if we did, then maybe people might begin to understand that textiles are not just something “Made In China.”

P.S. If this has you jonesing for some more Mr. Rogers, you can see a clip of the Neighborhood of Make Believe here. In case that weirds you out, too, (I couldn’t watch the whole thing) the Introduction to Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood is here.

for the dreamers.

If you’re reading this, you came from here. I’m gobsmacked to have finally found it. I didn’t know where it came from, but tonight discovered it’s from the beginning of James Kavanaugh’s 1970 book There Are Men Too Gentle To Live Among Wolves. It’s amazing how something can just hit you to the core, even so very many years later. It’s awesome, it’s lovely, it’s knowing, it’s kind.


 

Some people do not have to search, they find their niche early in life and rest there, seemingly contented and resigned. They do not seem to ask much of life, sometimes they do not seem to take it seriously. At times I envy them, but usually I do not understand them. Seldom do they understand me.

I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers and lonely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know–unless it be to share laughter.

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide. Most of all we want to love and be loved. We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or to compete for love.

This is a book for wanderers, dreamers and lovers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. It is for these who are too gentle to live among wolves.

-James Kavanaugh

re:defining.

Below is a response to a post earlier in the week that I thought was so beautiful that it warranted a post of its own.

Sometimes people ask me what craftivism means. Sometimes I don’t know quite what to say. Or know how it’s related to me.

But craftivism is more than just a way to express your politics and views, it’s about finding a way to better your life and that of others through creative endeavors. Because I believe that everything we make with our hands has power. Just what that power is, is your own decision.

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I’ve just discovered this site and it chimes so many bells with me. In my younger days I went on protest marches and rallies and carried banners and chanted chants. Now I have three young kids and I don’t seem to do that stuff anymore. It’s not that I no longer care about the same things – believe me, having kids has made me care even more. But nowadays I am more likely to make a sturdy shopping bag out of all the plastic carrier bags in the cupboard cut into strips and knit together, or crochet an afghan out of lots of leftover yarn from my late mother’s stash and give it to my father as a Christmas gift. Things like that. Currently I am braiding a rag rug out of all my old maternity dresses (boy does that ever provide closure!)

What would have happened if I *hadn’t* gone on all those protest marches back then? Nothing much. Everyone else would still have showed up – 30,000 people minus me is still lots of people. But if I hadn’t made that afghan for my dad, I never would have got to see the glistening in his eyes on Christmas day, and the tears in my own eyes when I visit him and see it folded over the arm of his favourite chair, obviously much used.

I never had a name for this before, or for the quilts I made for my kids which I tuck round them extra tight every time I hear another mother’s son or daughter has been killed by a suicide bomb, or the cookies we bake together from scratch because I want them to understand where food comes from (and also they taste good), or all the things I repair around the home not because I can’t afford to replace them but because … because … well just because I *prefer* to. And now I do have a name for it. Craftivism. Thank you.