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I’ve had the good fortune of having been raised at the knees of a crafty mother, attending more quilting bees and tagging along to more fabric shops than I can count. Her transition from bowling league to quilting bee in the late 1970s wasn’t as smooth as she’d have liked, but the draw was identical—the almighty hub of shared interest. While I’ve only recently benefited from her now 20-year career in quilting, I will admit to having culled two things from my experiences: an undying love and appreciation of the craft and a loving, yet skewed, perception of those who partake in its creation. Seeing those women sitting around the quilt frame meant entrepreneurship, humor, escape and all-around kick-ass-ness. It was art, it was craft, and, ultimately, it was a useful object created by gossipy, loud and sometimes raunchy stitchers. They saw each other through divorces, deaths and more—all the while perfecting the art of distraction with a needle and thread.
I was never much for being craft-inclined, having stumbled over patchwork quilting, through Smurf latch hook rugs, finally landing on collages for a time. Still, the itch for stitch nagged at me. For my birthday this year, the streak was ended and I was given not one but TWO copies of Debbie Stoller’s “Stitch and Bitch: A Knitter’s Handbook.” It was a sign that not only was I to become a knitter, but that others were to follow. I quickly enlisted two industrious friends—who, like many, had oft uttered the phrase, “I’ve always wanted to try knitting…(sigh)”—to learn with me. They soon bailed and six months passed and all I had to show for my knitting prowess was the now dusty knitting handbook and a new knitting bag gifted to me by a co-worker. She says to me, “You just seem like the crafty knitter type.” And with that my fate was sealed. Days later I joined the ranks of crafters worldwide by crossing the threshold of my first yarn store. And one 4,000-mile, 16-day road trip later, I was officially a knitter—with my first real project of a five-foot scarf well under way.
My first foray into a stitch and bitch group took place recently at a West Seattle cafÈ. The showing, while small in numbers, was formidable in skill and enthusiasm. The two hours passed quickly with only small interruptions of stitch first-aid or a debate on yarn shop classes. Sounds mundane? Wait until you actually can knit, then it will all be clear.
The allure of participating in being socially creative is certainly ageless, and for stitch and bitch, its following is fervent. Experts suppose that many people are returning to time-honored crafts like knitting after finally getting past traumatic beginnings (usually under the watchful eyes of crafty stay-at-home mothers or unforgiving Home-Ec teachers). This new generation of crafters is seeking the ultimate DIY experience. According to Amy Ellsworth, owner of Stitches (Seattle’s new alternative to chain fabric stores located at 711 E Pike St),“the stitch and bitch is a great way to meet new people and learn something new.”
To find one, simply plug the phrase “stitch and bitch” into your favorite search engine and the 70,000+ results it churns out should be proof positive that there’s a group that’s nearby and perfect for you.
CULTOMETER
Uniforms: 0
Charismatic Leader: 5
Devotion of Followers: 10
Group Rituals: 8
Overall: 5.75
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