FO: Mermaid Pomatomus Socks

When I was a new knitter way back in 2006, I started keeping an aspirational list of “Someday Projects.” These were the ones that seemed too complicated, too technically daunting, or just too intimidating to even consider before a lot more projects and years of learning. Even though I’ve knit many, many pairs of socks, I still kept these socks in the aspiration-only section of my queue until one day I got my hands on the absolute perfect yarn for them and realized I was totally ready.

Handknit socks from the Pomatomus pattern by Cookie A, in variegated blue yarn, modeled on feet

Pattern: Pomatomus by Cookie A, available for free from Knitty winter 2005 (Ravelry Project page)
Size: Women’s size 9.5 (US)
Yarn: SweetGeorgia Yarns Tough Love Sock, fingering weight, 80% Merino wool / 20% nylon in Mermaid; I used every last inch of the 115g skein (425.4 yards / 389 meters) plus a few yard of Knit Picks Stroll in Mermaid
Needles: Size 1 (2.25 mm) DPNs
Modifications: Widened and lengthened for fit, as described below

Started: September 5, 2019
Finished: September 21, 2019

So the truth is, I had actually started this pattern once before, back in 2008, when I was still a bit iffy on socks overall, and I felt overwhelmed trying to carry yarn-overs across DPNs or manage a lace pattern that moved. That attempt was quickly set aside, and after working similarly complicated, shifting lace patterns, I was determined to make it work this time. I made it a little harder and more yarn-consuming on myself than I needed to by going down a needle size and working the pattern over 84 stitches for the leg, instead of the 72 stitches the pattern calls for. I preferred the way the yarn looked at this gauge, and I liked the smaller scale of eyelets and the way the lace stretched.

Handknit sock in progress, showing the Pomatomus pattern's cuff and first few lace repeats on DPNs

I had won this gorgeous yarn as a Sock Knitters Anonymous (Ravelry link) prize, and I was so thrilled by the way the colors danced and shimmered in the lace pattern. I also really enjoyed the harmony of a sea-inspired pattern (Pomatomus being the genus for bluefish) with a yarn named Mermaid. It all just came together exactly the way I hoped it would.

Handknit Pomatomus socks, modeled on parallel feet facing forward

To get the fit I wanted around a wider calf, I started with 84 stitches on the ribbing and continued at this width for most of the leg. I also added a chart repeat to lengthen the leg, which I usually do for top-down socks so they hit at a comfortable point and don’t slouch or fall down. I reduced to 72 stitches as I approached the heel by omitting yarn-overs over one lace section for half a repeat, and the transition went so smoothly I can’t even remember or see in these photos exactly how I did it. It was important to me that I preserve the way the pattern flowed into the heels and stay continuous from the leg into the foot, so I worked these decreases in the repeats at the sides above the ankles, where they could kind of melt into the gussets.

Handknit Pomatomus socks modeled on feet, standing slightly on tip-toe and viewed from behind to show heel detail

I loved the impact of the twisted stitches on the heels flowing out of the lace and the fit of the ribbed heel flap.

Handknit Pomatomus socks modeled on feet, viewed from above

The rest of the gusset and foot was worked according to the pattern, and I especially appreciated the way the designer transitioned the lace through the instep chart so it flowed from the leg perfectly.

Detail view of handknit Pomatomus socks, showing toes with coordinating yarn striped in

As I approached the toe on the second sock, I realized I was short on yarn due to the modifications I’d made to stitch count, gauge, and the way the allover ribbing design ate up so much yardage. I was initially planning on just knitting a contrast toe with a solid-colored coordinating yarn from my stash (also named Mermaid, as it happens) but when I saw the two yarns next to each other, I felt they were so, so close in tone and value that I could get away with striping them together to kind of blend the two. I think the contrast between the ribbed lace and plain stockinette also helped me get away with a tidy visual transition.

Detail of handknit Pomatomus sock on sock blocker, showing toe

I frogged back both toes to this point and blended in the contrast yarn. I’m really pleased with how well that strategy worked out, and I feel in some small way this maybe justifies my habit of buying so many similarly-colored yarns to have this kind of option?

Detail view of handknit Pomatomus socks on sock blockers, showing lace pattern in SweetGeorgia Mermaid yarn

This lace pattern worked so beautifully with this yarn that I literally can’t stop looking at these socks when I wear them (or take them out just to admire them). My father was so impressed with the cleverness of the lace and its resemblance to fish scales and waves that he asked for a pair of his own for Christmas (“yeah, even with the holes, that’s fine!”). I’m not only thrilled with the way these socks came out, but also super happy I have learned enough about knitting along the way to get the exact fabric quality and size/fit I wanted, as well as the know-how to overcome running out of yarn without compromising the overall effect.

Handknit Pomatomus socks, side-by-side on sock blockers

The thing I love so much about knitting is that for the most part, it’s just different combinations of two stitches, knitting and purling, plus yarn-overs. Yes, it gets fiddly and can be tricky with decreases, lace, shaping, construction, sizing, and so on, but in the end, it’s fundamentally always built of things I already know how to do. I love projects like these socks, which are confidence-building, useful learning experiences, beautiful to look at, and great inspiration to tackle the patterns I’ve been keeping on my Someday list.

Handknit Pomatomus socks, modeled on feet, with one stepping in front of the other

Because if I keep at it, put one foot in front of the other, continue challenging myself and just doing it, Someday has to come one day, right?

Going to great lengths for a seamless cardigan

I have been wanting to knit the Salvia cardigan for years, and in 2015, I finally cast it on. I made the decision that I wanted to figure out how to work it seamlessly, or with as few seams as possible because I still have not mastered attractive seaming for my handknits (I promise, I am working on it and practicing).

I’ve been collecting techniques to avoid seaming over the years, including three-needle bind-offs, picking up stitches around edges, and so on, but this sweater has a unique challenge. The scalloped lace sections that give it its special style are charted from the bottom up, and because they are made with yarn-overs and decreases that play a visible role in the design, I wasn’t able to find an elegant way of replicating them in a top-down direction. I run into the opposite problem somewhat frequently in sock-knitting, where the lace only “reads” with the right gravity and flow in the direction it was designed. So I persisted anyway, quickly working the cardigan’s back, left, and right fronts all together in one piece to the underarms.

Diagram of a plan for knitting the Salvia Cardigan seamlessly

Next I worked the three pieces separately, back and forth on two needles, then finished with a three-needle bind-off at the shoulders. I’ve had my cardigan in a vest-like shape for several years now, while I hemmed and hawed about how best to proceed. The specific type of seaming I am worst at is setting in sleeves at the shoulder. Vertical mattress stitch is fine, but once I start working on a curve, it gets wonky and uneven, and no matter what I do, I’m not pleased with the finished product. So I’ve thought, on and off, for quite some time about how I could work the shoulders using short rows to shape the cap (I plan on something like this brilliant tutorial) and then pondered what to do about the bottom-up lace at the ends of the sleeves.

Recently I was grafting the toe of a sock using Kitchener stitch, thinking about what a neat finish it gives, and it finally occurred to me that I could probably graft in the round, so long as I had the live stitches from the sleeve and the lace portion matched up correctly. By placing the graft just above the lace cuff, I’m hoping it will be unobtrusive and neat and that the sleeve will appear as it is designed, without having to set in shoulders or compromise the design.

I cast on the first lace cuff the other day, and I can’t wait to find out if I’m right!

Previous Entries with this Project:
WIP: Art Deco Lace-Edged Cardigan

FO: Varsity Kermit Sweater!!!

Way, way back in 2011 I sketched out the plan for this sweater and finally today, on Kermit the Frog’s 65th birthday, it is finally finished. Yaaayyyyy!!!

Pattern: Self-Designed Seamless V-Neck Cardigan, using the Incredible Custom-Fit Raglan Sweater Worksheet by Pamela Costello (Project page on Ravelry)
Size: Made to custom measurements
Yarn: Red Heart Sport Solid, DK weight, 100% acrylic, in Limeade and Paddy Green

Started: October 26, 2011
Finished: May 9, 2020

The idea for this sweater had been percolating for much longer, at least as far back as 2007 when I bought this yarn for a different cardigan and laughed that the color was so bright it looked like Kermit the Frog. It should be noted here that I absolutely love Kermit the Frog. As I type this I have a Kermit mouse pad, Kermit is the screen background on my phone, I have a Kermit keychain, more than a few Kermit t-shirts, dolls, water bottles, and so on. He is one of my favorite characters of all-time and never fails to make me smile.

One day riding the ferry home from school, I was thinking about this sweater quantity of bright green yarn and saw a high school student wearing a varsity jacket. I started thinking about the history of varsity sweaters, Googled a bit about the meaning of the stripes, and by the time I reached Staten Island I had sketched out a little V-neck cardigan to declare my varsity-level Kermit love.

I found an iron-on Kermit patch and ordered it right away, then worked out the measurements from the custom-fit raglan worksheet linked above. I found a nicely coordinating darker green for the ribbing and stripes, and I decided that even though varsity sweaters customarily had stripes on only one sleeve, I would indulge myself in a bit of symmetry so both sleeves would match. Knitting the sweater was straightforward and fast, but then I hit a roadblock with the patch. As the yarn was 100% acrylic (chosen for economy, my super sensitive skin, and easy care) I was leery about ironing the patch on, as it would melt the acrylic along with the adhesive.

I sat with this problem for close to a decade, then finally came up with an incredibly obvious solution. I first ironed the patch onto a piece of quilting cotton, then made a sort of sandwich of this layer, the sweater, and a second piece of cotton for a backing.

I trimmed the fabric close to the patch and pinned it where I wanted it above my heart on the sweater.

I turned the edges under and appliquéd the fabric as close to the patch as I could get it, pulling the edges in and slightly under the patch as I worked my way around.

It came out quite clean, and I’m delighted with how securely and neatly it sits on the sweater without pulling or causing it to sag.

I hemmed the inner piece of cotton and tacked it at the corners, to catch all the thread ends and knots and to further stabilize the patch. I had a good laugh, as my brother joined me during this part and recognized the Kermit collar points and silhouette from this back side, asking, “Are you sewing a Kermit onto that sweater??”

It feels lovely to be so understood.

The buttons are a cheery red plastic value pack that I found on eBay back in 2012. I like the contrast and extra little zip they give. At the time I was preoccupied with button bands gapping, so I made these nice and wide, then placed the buttons so closely together that it is nigh on impossible for them to gap at all. Having all these big, bright goofy buttons works with the aesthetic, and I am even more charmed than I expected to be by the whole effect.

Overall I’m thrilled with this project and so glad I took my time in making the decisions I did to get exactly the silly idea I had in my head to become a reality. One of the things I love most about knitting is that you can make anything you imagine, in any size or color you like, with whatever details you want, and you will end up with a one-of-a-kind handmade creation. I am also delighted with the success in making a sweater custom to my measurements so that the sleeves have the right roominess I was looking for, the V-neck hits in just the right spot on my bust, and everything is the right length and fit for a truly comfortable, just-my-size, just-my-style, and just-my-level-of-ridiculous cardigan.

Or as Kermit would put it…

Previous Entries with this Project:
Varsity Kermit Sweater

Summer Knitting

Glancing over at my knitting basket, I can’t help noticing it’s taken on a distinctly summery feel.


I wouldn’t ordinarily have said I knit seasonally, as I am still making wool sweaters and heavy cabled things, but lately I have been craving softer, lighter colors, cotton and linen, and finer gauge yarns. I can also count on the summer for a major boost of start-itis, with three new cast-ons included (so far).


The first is a shrug that begins with a square lace panel constructed from the center out (I will sew that hole shut in finishing). It’s intriguing to watch the lace pattern build organically, and I’m looking forward to figuring out how to convert the pattern to be as fully seamless as possible.


Next is Lepidoptera, which I will admit I cast on in a total impulse because I couldn’t resist the beautiful soft pink yarn wound up in a cake after I used a bit of it to finish the candy pink Featherweight sweater I’ve been working on for years. I love the look of this pattern, and I know I will eventually enjoy working on it, but because the two lace panels are knit with two strands of yarn held together and there is an expanse of one-strand stockinette in between, one winds up juggling three balls of yarn at a time. I haven’t mastered the maneuvering yet, so this project is neither particularly easy or portable. I can’t help wondering why it wasn’t designed with two strands held together throughout, but I’m sure time will tell.



Lastly, a pair of Catnip Socks, a beautiful free pattern by Wendy Johnson that I have had queued since 2010, knit in this soft green hand-painted yarn that I love fanatically. I was chiding myself for casting on new socks when I have been trying to focus on sweater-knitting and have a huge pile of finished socks that I haven’t blocked or photographed yet, but I was able to justify them by the fact that I work from home and my apartment gets frightfully cold in the winter (and autumn…and often spring). Like most New Yorkers, I am nuts about not wearing shoes indoors, so I wear socks and slippers almost every day – they might as well be hand-knit, right?

These socks also gave me the opportunity to participate in my favorite sock-knitting group on Ravelry again, and I hadn’t realized just how much I missed the community and camaraderie there until I logged back in and poked around. When I saw the July-August challenge is lace, I entered some kind of fugue state where my hands were winding the yarn and pulling out needles automatically.

And on the theme of community, I have finally set up an Instagram account just for my knitting and crafts: @vickiliciousknits. I hope you’ll hop over and say hello – I’d love to connect with fellow knitters and craft-obsessives!

Educational Mistakes

At a job I once had, my boss would sometimes spend a huge amount of money and time on a vendor or a project that (usually foreseeably) didn’t work out, then shrug it off, “Well that was an expensive lesson.”

One might think I’d have learned sweater hubris by now, that I’d take the time to check gauge or try it on to check fit early on in the process…



And one would be wrong.

At first glance, this might appear to be a finished sweater (apart from the unfinished grafting under the arms) and technically, it fits. I waited until I had finished the neckline and cast off to try it on for the first time, expecting a roomy, almost boxy feel, and instead it is quite fitted, to the point of being body-hugging. At certain angles with careful layering and maybe if I were a little happier with my figure at present, it could work, but I wanted a cozy, smooshy, decadently textured and cabled sweater, not something clingy and short that can only be worn with Spandex underneath.




The little holes from careless neckline pick-ups block out, right??

My gauge, once I finally checked it, was way off, something like 5 stitches/inch instead of 3.8, which makes perfect sense, as this sweater is about 25% smaller than I expected it would be. I briefly tried to convince myself it would stretch a lot in blocking and end up at the expected dimensions, which it might, but since I have more than 5 balls of yarn leftover and this wasn’t exactly a quick project, there is no reason to compromise.




No, raglan decrease gaps don’t bother me at alllll…..

The closer I scrutinized it, the more flaws I started to find as well. I wasn’t happy with the gaps introduced by careless pick-ups for the neckline, but I was willing to sew them shut by weaving in some reinforcing threads. Ditto for the gaps made by raglan decreases along the shoulders, which probably wouldn’t have been so visible if the shoulders weren’t stretched as much. And weird decreases on the sleeves are just par for the course, right?




I mean, no one ever looks at sleeves, do they?? Sigh…

I know I would not be happy with this sweater as it is. I am a better knitter than this, and I care about these details too much to let them slide. The time I spent pretending I didn’t care or that, “It’ll all block out!” was “expensive” in knitting terms, but very valuable lessons. This sweater taught me how to make a seamless yoked sweater in pattern (way easier than I thought it would be). I also learned how important it is to track rows in moss stitch, after the first large frogging-and-restarting.

And now I’ve learned, for real, to actually check my gauge and not just follow the pattern blindly, hoping it’ll all work out. As this was knit with size 6 and 8 needles, I expect 8/10 will do the trick, so long as the pattern holds up. I also plan to make some adjustments with things I didn’t like, such as making a better plan for incorporating sleeve increases in moss stitch, inserting a filler stitch to absorb the raglan decreases on the sleeves, and learning how to pick up neckline stitches more neatly so I don’t end up with gaps.

This project has been like a security blanket for when I needed comfort or an escape from reality, and I mean it when I say it’s been a true pleasure to knit, so I don’t mind starting over to get something wearable with the right finishing details. Let’s hope I’ve actually learned my lessons this time.