I finished a ribbed sweater last week that I had been working on since March. The fabric is exactly what I hoped for: 1x1 rib in a luxurious yarn, soft and pillowy. The construction was also something I hadn’t tried before, with set-in sleeves and saddle shoulders. I blocked it, seamed it together, took a breath, and tried it on.
The sleeves turned out to be comically long, about ten centimetres past where they should end. This goes well beyond the territory of folding up your cuffs and into something harder to explain.
My first feeling was embarrassment, which gave way fairly quickly to genuine puzzlement. I rewrite every pattern I knit into a spreadsheet before I start: running totals of width and length at each stage, cross-checked against the schematic, so I can catch problems before they are knitted into the fabric. If there is shaping involved, I track how many increases happen on each row, add them to the stitch count, and update the width. For length, since I know my gauge, I can calculate exactly how many rows each measurement should take. It is the kind of system that is supposed to prevent exactly this, and somehow it did not, and I have not yet worked out why. I don’t feel like investigating the error right now, so my current way of dealing with it is exclaiming “Look at my sleeves!” as soon as I see people. It is not the most rational response, but it does seem to be helping.
* * *
The next sweater I am planning is also a set-in sleeve construction, which puts the same category of error squarely back on the table. This time I am being more thorough than usual. My partner spent Saturday morning helping me measure different parts of my body, tape measure and notepad in hand, patient throughout in a way I was grateful for. I have also been working through Faina Goberstein’s Craftsy course, Sizing Knitwear Patterns, which goes through how to take body measurements and calculate each piece of a sweater. Set-in sleeves are less forgiving than other construction styles, and the extra preparation may feel fussy, but in my case it is clearly necessary.
I am hoping the preparation makes a difference. Set-in sleeves are unforgiving enough that I am not expecting certainty, but at least this time I will have done the groundwork.
* * *
The week was not all fit disappointment and anxiety. A friend turned thirty recently, and I had knit him a pair of cabled socks as a gift. He messaged to say they fit perfectly and he’s already looking forward to the cooler season again. It is a reasonable way to end a week that started with a phantom ten centimetres of ribbed fabric.
