As gorgeous as it is, and with a drape that's just to die for, I have reluctantly accepted that I shouldn't knit pure laceweight silk.
As yarns go, silk is the best friend you thought you had until she ran off with your Significant Other. Charismatic and beautiful, but tricky, treacherous and not to be trusted.
Drop one stitch, and it will unravel at the speed of light. Drop three, and you'll weep with frustration. Leave your knitting lying around until an entire row of stitches slip away (and they will), and it's all over.
I tried everything, to no avail. Roaring my customary expletives, I propelled one attempt after another across the room, where they slowly formed a pile of unravelled, tangled, sorry mess. Useless, even, for frogging. I'm not even going to show you, I'm so disgusted.
Much better to combine silk with another yarn. One that has a bit of snag to it, that will take hold of that wilful, gorgeous bitch and make her behave herself.
Like the four cones of Belisa cashmere, that I have left over from Jason, and which were sitting around, looking bored.
The effect is a soft, yet sheeny marle.
That knits easily, looks interesting, feels lovely,
And won't leave me suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder in ten years time.
