The time when you need to do something is when no one else is willing to do it,
when people are saying it can’t be done.”
[Mary Frances Berry]
My husband was admiring an argyle vest at a men’s clothing store. Half to himself he said, “My wife could knit this.” The salesman replied, “Oh no. This couldn’t be knit by hand. This is knit in Scotland on a special machine.”
My husband hurried home to ask if I’d knit him an argyle vest. I groaned inside. Intarsia knitting isn’t my favorite technique. However, I found a pattern that dated back to the 1920s, bought the wool and knit the vest. The back went fast—it had no pattern. The front went slow. I juggled colored yarn on bobbins for at least two weeks and was relieved when I was finished. After it was blocked, he put it on and went downtown. When he returned with a grin on his face, he told me about the salesman and the machine-knit vest.
That was over twenty years ago. This is the only piece of intarsia knitting I’ve ever done. After many washings, it shrunk and I grew two sizes so I wear it now. When I do, I think of that salesman.
Knitting, writing and other joys 
Oh, this vest is wonderful! I’m looking for a pattern for my son too. He got an argyle sweater for Christmas and then washed it so it shrank. He was heartbroken. I said I was looking for a knitting project and I would make him one. He was thrilled. Can you please email me the pattern? Thank you so much!
Can you please email me the pattern for your argyle vest. My mom wants to knit an argyle vest for my son and she is looking for a pattern.
Would really really appreciate this.
Thank you
Can you please email me the pattern for your argyle vest. Please.
When I think back over some 60+ years, and clothes along the way-invariably one hand-made piece still comes to mind. I would say this was about 1951 or so. It was my choice whenever we needed to “dress up.” That mainly was the Saturday trip to town to trade cream, eggs and sometimes a old laying hen or two for $ at Holdren’s creamery/egg buying station. While the folks were chatting, catching up on local news,having the eggs candled and the cream tested, little brother and I walked a few blocks to Ernie’s theater, each wearing one. Thanksgiving, Christmas or maybe anniversary dinners with aunts and uncles were other opportunities to wear it.
“It” was a ‘cowboy shirt’ with a yoke, flap pockets and contrasting panel down the front where the buttons were which my dear mother made. Cowboys were part of my life then, in what I read, what brother and I played, what I drew or even while trudging up and over the hill to bring in the milk cows, with a little imagination Old Bill (our dog) and I were on a roundup, always alert for rustlers.
On those Saturday trips to town when we went to see a matinee movie, did I mention it was invariably a western? Hoppy Cassidy, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, or if the gods were smiling-RANDOLPH SCOTT entertained us for over an hour. I think it cost .15 cents. If dad gave us a quarter each, that left .10 cents. Brother might buy popcorn and I a cola, which we shared as the train was robbed or the cattle stampeded up on the big screen.
I always wanted boots, a cowboy hat and of course, a Winchester rifle.The latter had to wait until I was out on my own, but dear mom, on her treddle Singer sewing machine, made brother Bobby and I identical western shirts. We were the proudest kids in Brown County. We wore the shirts until we outgrew them and they were left behind. I know this has nothing to do with knitting, but seeing your one-of-a-kind sweater reminds me of our one-time shirts.
The shirts may not have lasted a lifetime, but the memories of watching mother take measurements, cut them out,sew a little,try them on, then going back to sewing until they were done has endured that long. Katharine, thank you for reminding me.
What a story! Makes me grin too 🙂 I’m afraid it is commonplace that people think garments “come from machines”.