The Sock Knitters

AN ASSIDE: I started knitting at age 5, but stopped during college and graduate school. I only came back to it when I started working. I wanted to expand my skills to be more adept at understanding the knitted structures of objects in the collections of the museums where I worked. What first grabbed my attention was socks. With all of the varieties of heels and toes, color work, lace and cables, I was a little overwhelmed with where I should start. One of my colleagues pointed me to the Yankee Knitter classic sock pattern. I’ve used it so often over the years that my copy is a ragged mess all taped together. My first pair paid no attention to gauge, so the socks bagged around my ankles and were actually a little too short for my feet. I learned my lesson (mostly). You can see some of my later socks from around 2007 and onward when I started posting on Ravelry. My knitting group at that time referred to me as the “sock lady,” since that seemed to be the only thing I was ever working on. I did progress on to other kinds of knitting, but I always come back to socks as my “comfort” or “in between” project when I don’t have another idea in mind.

Some weeks ago I posted about swatching and trying to find the best yarn and needles to undertake a contemporary version of Gairloch Kilt Hose. I’ve now had an opportunity to visit the lovely, small museum in Gairloch and look at their collection to get some additional information on the patterns and techniques. It was extremely informative. I’m also reasonably certain that their collections are somewhat recent — all 20th century, so still don’t have a good idea of what the earlier versions looked like.

The only record I can find about the style’s history comes from an 1898 publication: Scottish Home Industries. The only copies of the publication are now found in archive collections, so my information is limited to what already has been republished about the kilt hose referencing that publication.

This particular pattern (left) follows the standard intersecting diagonal lines typical of Gairloch hose, but rather than a simple diced pattern filling the diamonds, here the stag, symbol of the Mackenzie family, is featured.

[From the 11th century, the Mackenzies were the lairds (lords) of a huge swath of land on the northwest of mainland Scotland (the clan was initiated in the 11th century by a Celtic chief; chief Gilleoin na h’Airde descended from the High Kings of Ireland). Their descendants (now traced through the female side of the family) still own property in the western part of the original region.]

It is worth quoting the entirety of the single page from Scottish Home Industries for a look at what was said about them in the 19th century:

“Where there are more than two colours, a number of different threads have to be used — in tartan hose sometimes as many as eighteen — and only a few women have the patience and skill necessary for such laborious work. Exceedingly elaborate patterns have been sent in; one was like a honey-comb, another had twelve-pointed stags’ heads, this was beautifully knitted in two shades of brown, and was very cleverly carried out, though the effect was more curious than pretty. As regards quality one of the best judges, himself a large dealer, has said, ‘Nothing can beat good Gairloch stockings,’ and their superiority is well known to all who are in the habit of wearing them, for they have an elasticity and a softness which are only found in Shetland hose, while they are much more durable than these.

They are essentially a home industry. The wool used is commonly from sheep kept by the crofter; the teasing, carding, spinning and dyeing are all done at home, and the colours are generally obtained from natural dyes. These colours are exceedingly pretty, and have a softness of tone which is never seen in the aniline dyes, though, even if these are sometimes used, the home processes give shades free from all harshness.”

Since I first read this, I’ve been intrigued by the “honey-comb” reference, and couldn’t imagine what it would look like. At the Gairloch Museum there was a sock fragment that matched this idea.

This version called the tuck stitch, coin stitch, or blister stitch, all are worked in two colors (it also is sometimes worked in one color giving the effect of a thermal garment). This particular example also includes the name (presumably) of the intended wearer, J. Stialing.

There are also brioche, slipped stitch, cable, mock, and other variations. Check out knittingstitches.org for come other options.

Photo: S. Wolf. Use courtesy of the Gairloch Museum.

The more I thought about it, the above version of the honeycomb would not make a good design for a sock pattern. Carrying stitches on the face of a garment leaves a little loop that can easily catch in something, so I don’t think it’s a practical sock stitch.

The more I hunted about looking for what I thought this elusive design would be, the more I thought there must be some reference from the 19th century discussing the stitch. The Victorian era saw knitting manuals of all sorts gain a hold in the publishing market. A remarkable selection of these can be found online at the University of Southampton Library, where many have been digitized and are available to look at and download. Most of the digitized knitting manuals were once in the library of the famed knitting historian, Richard Rutt. His A History of Hand Knitting is a basic reference for anyone interested in the subject.

I really went down the rabbit hole on this one, since I not only found several references to honeycomb stitch, but also found several Scottish bonnet patterns (another interest of mine). That’s for another day!

One of two examples in the Gairloch Museum features a stag head cuff. This simpler example of kilt hose uses an overall rib for the sock body and instep. While the calf shaping is usually visible to some degree, in this case the decrease stitches are quite loose and obvious. It appears as though the wearer might have had a large calf, and the stitches have stretched through wearing.

Photo: S. Wolf. Use courtesy of the Gairloch Museum.

While this sock in orange and brown is very worn, it is probably the loveliest example in the Gairloch Museum collection. It is knit at a finer gauge than any of the others. Also, the wool is exceptionally soft and fine. Interestingly, the brown color that forms the grid lines has worn away more than the orange background color.

I initially assumed that the brown was the natural color of the wool. However, if it was dyed to that shade of brown, a typical dye or mordant might have been derived from something like acorns which contain a lot of iron. Iron is very corrosive to wool (as well as cotton) and causes the fibers to break and wear. You may have seen this damage on old paper.

The above document was written with iron gall ink and the color of the ink has spread from the original lines of text and actually “burned through” the paper, leaving holes. Like the paper, wool dyed with iron renders the fibers brittle, and they easily could be abraded and worn away.

Photo of sock: S. Wolf, Use courtesy of the Gairloch Museum

Another special historic reference from Gairloch is a hand-drawn pattern for a waistcoat. Based on other materials in the archive, I estimate that this pattern was made sometime between the 1960s to 1980s.

While this pattern wasn’t found on any of the socks in the collection, it certainly would have been used that way. The pattern, sometimes the Gairloch Cross, features heavy outlining of the diamonds, so is no less complex than the standard Gairloch pattern.

This pattern is multi-sized, and shows pocket placement for both right and left sides. It isn’t clear if the back of the waistcoat was meant to be worked in the same pattern. The structured shaping of the side seam suggests each piece was knitted separately, rather than in the round as the socks were done.

The pattern is easily read, and would be simple to reproduce on a modern stocking.

Here is a simplified chart of the cross design, presented as a normal stranded color work design. The original chart above reads as the pattern color (here yellow) knitted every-other stitch. That would make the repeat 60 stitches wide, which seems way too large. A swatch of each version would be useful in this case to determine the most appropriate method.

Photos: S. Wolf, Use courtesy of the Gairloch Museum.

The final piece worth a mention is this charming child’s sock. Very worn, and heavily mended, the sock still features the typical Gairloch pattern, although without the heavy outlines, and having a much more simplified fill. The style also suggests another option for creating a modern adaptation.

An interesting detail on this sock is the decrease, here placed just above the ankle. Only one is visible, and likely only 1 or 2 were used, as the calf area remains the same diameter as the cuff. This is consistent with the slender shape of a child’s leg. This sock was made by a very skilled knitter, and given the amount of wear and repair, well loved and used for a very long time.

The chart for this pattern would be a good one to start on both in terms of its ease of knitting, and an opportunity to test out the decreases on a less complex set of stitches.

Photos: S. Wolf, Use courtesy of the Gairloch Museum.

I want to thank Corinna Annets of the Gairloch Museum for all of the time she gave us to search the museum’s collections. It’s a lovely museum, and for knitters interested in historic patterns, two Gairloch examples are available here and on Ravelry (and another).

Musings….

So what’s the big deal about socks? If you look at historical museum collections, socks are among the earliest examples of knitting that we see. Hats, and gloves/mittens are the other two categories for early knits; particularly for items knit in the home. Professional knitting workshops produced these items as well, but also knit larger garments like the extremely fine silk undergarments (also known as waistcoats) worn by the likes of Charles I at his execution in 1649. We know from records of a merchant from the Swedish port of Malmo that this type of garment was being imported by the late 16th century, possibly from England. Other professional workshops were found in France, Italy and Spain, and the waistcoats often are referred to as Italian.

So what came first: the chicken or the egg? I believe that household knitting preceded workshop knitting, although I have nothing physical upon which to base my opinion. All of the early workshop knitters were men, and that is because women weren’t generally allowed to work outside of the home. The tricky bit about this is that the fine metal needles needed for early knitting were made primarily of steel wire, and that was only available via the Arabs of North Africa until steel industry moved into Europe through Spain (late 13th century).

With a commodity this valuable, would women have commonly been “allowed” to use steel needles? We don’t know. But we do know that the craft of knitting was considered appropriately feminine by the 14th century. This painting (left), Madonna dell’Umiltà ca. 1353, depicts the Madonna knitting using more than one color.

The more commonly recognized Visit of the Angel, is from the Buxtehude Altar by Master Bertram of Minden (above). It is dated ca 1400 and shows a garment being knit in the round.

Even earlier knitting (above) from both Egypt and Spain are presumed to be from workshops. Again, at that time and in those areas, women would not have been working outside of the home as crafters. So who knows? Knitting from these dates is exceptionally rare, so we don’t have much to go on beyond speculation. I still think it was the women.

Hats and gloves are subjects for another day, but like socks, can be found as early as the 11th-12th centuries. What we don’t know substantially exceeds what we do know about early knitting. I still think we need to figure out time travel to get a handle of the subject. I really want to see the first heel turn as it was originally invented.

Meanwhile…

I didn’t pick up knitting needles for two weeks while I was away. While I always pack one (or more) project for a trip, I find that reading and jet lag usually take over all of my “down” time. It’s a shame, because the hours in the air would provide a great block of knitting time…these days I prefer to sleep.

I’ll have something on the needles now — a hat I had started with yarn from the Scottish Wool Producers Showcase, and now likely something related to the Gairlock kilt hose. I’m pretty excited about the prospects now that I’ve seen some additional options for creativity.

It’s also time to get back out in the garden. Things went wild in that short time. Our tiny lawn was about 18″ high, no doubt in part from lots of rain. My hosta garden also went from zero to huge, and the peonies and iris are incredible.

And let’s not even think about the weeds! Bruce and I spent a good part of Saturday “in the weeds,” and most of what we got done was actually uprooting about 30 tree starts coming up from acorns and acacias. Every time I think we’ve put an end to acacias, a new one pops up. Insidious monsters! Unfortunately there are no giraffes close by to keep them under control.

Another time sink, no doubt, will be the start of the summer Farmers Market season. This always results in a flurry of cooking and freezing about half of what I bring home that doesn’t make it into a meal in the week. There is never, never enough time in the day, even with extended daylight hours.

Upcoming…

My Gairloch “honeycomb” stitch sent me back to a Victorian knitting pattern book search, so some swatch results will be coming soon. Also, there is about to be a new chapter to the story about Sylvia’s Wheel. That seems appropriate since the “Tour de Fleece” is only a month away. Here is a short article from last year that talks a bit about the “Tour.” This year it runs from July 1 to 23. There are any number of sites talking about it, and you can join the Facebook Group here. Many fiber sellers have special offerings for the “Tour,” so it’s an opportunity for spinners to stretch themselves with something new. One of my best tour spins developed a gradient set that resulted in two versions of my Barely a Beret (a free pattern).

So, until the next time, knit socks, or anything else that grabs your fancy. It’s good for you!

One Reply to “The Sock Knitters”

Comments are closed.