Home sweet home

It’s the end of the five-day Easter break here in Iceland and I’ve spent the entirety of it at home alone, partly because of tightened Covid restrictions and partly just because. 

Luckily I’m OK with solitude and am happiest at home, but being home alone ALL the time is a challenge even for me. Working full-time from home means the lines between work and life can get blurred, even more so when you live in a small space and your office is also your living room. Carving out time and space for creative projects is another challenge.

And while I’ve slowly been getting back to the crochet projects I’d set aside for so long, my main focus has been on making this space work for all the things - living space, work space, creative space. Now that I own a home by myself for the first time, I’m determined to make it truly mine.

It’s a work in progress (and let’s face it, there will always be something that needs doing), but I’m not in a hurry. I’m taking my time and trying my best to only bring in things I either really need or really love, things that have purpose and meaning. I’m aiming for warm, comfortable and uncluttered, with a place for everything and everything in its place. Most of all, I want it to reflect - and feel like - me. I want it to feel like home.

Goodbye 2020

I’ve never been so happy to see the end of a year. 2019 was the continuation of a tough cycle for me personally, but 2020 was objectively terrible for literally everyone, and I’m glad it’s over. We lived through a pandemic. Some lived through unimaginable loss. I lived through a divorce, losing a much-longed-for adoption, turning 50, buying my first apartment, and eight months in Canada looking after my mom through cancer treatment before selling her home and moving her to a retirement home to be properly supported by people much better qualified than me (she’s doing well!).

It’s been a lot. 

I spent this New Year’s Eve in my own apartment back in Iceland, reading through my journals from the past year to see how far I’ve progressed. I’m not sure about progress, but I did find some common themes - a big focus on Healing with a capital H and working really hard to become a Better Person™. Lots of affirmations, intentions and goals, none of which I actually accomplished.

But I could also see that I wasn’t as lost or broken as I thought I was all that time. I saw resilience and fortitude. Compassion and forgiveness. Gratitude and bounce-back and “today is a new day”. And I was pleasantly surprised.

Today is a new day. For today at least, I’m going to resist setting a bunch of goals or intentions or making plans or promises. I’ll just try to be and do the best I can - one thing at a time, one day at time - and let that take me where I need to go.

The photo accompanying this post is of the first project I picked up, let alone finished, in a year. It’s not perfect (I’m not sure I even like them!) and I might never write the pattern, but that’s OK. It just felt good to hold a hook again, a bit like coming back to myself. I have many more projects and patterns on the back burner to pick up again this year - one thing at a time, one day at a time.

Here’s to coming back to ourselves in 2021.

Happy New(ish) Year

We're already into February but I feel like the new year has only just started for me. Last year ended on a not-great note, with emergency trips home and suddenly having to plan for the unplanned, which continued right into the beginning of 2018, coupled with some personal stuff of my own to sort through. But it’s all good and things are settling down and I finally have a moment to breathe and reflect and plan and dream.

Looking back on 2017, I am so grateful for the warm reception that my rebrand and Grannies ebook and patterns received since launching last September - it has truly been beyond what I imagined and has given me the encouragement and confidence to keep working at it, no matter how small or slow the output.

Looking ahead, I am (slowly) working on some new patterns, another ebook and getting kits back online soon, so watch this space.

Oh, and Happy New Year!

Holiday sale!

If you're anything like me, many of your holiday gifts for family and friends are handmade. And if you're also like me, you might tend to leave things until almost the last minute. Is there a pattern you've been eyeing that you'd love to crochet for someone special or a kit you think would be the perfect gift for a maker in your life? Get a head start this year and cut the stress by taking advantage of my Cyber Weekend holiday sale.

Use the discount code JOL25 to take 25% off any pattern in my shop, including the Rove Handmade Volume 1: Grannies ebook, or any kit pre-order all weekend long. Code is valid from 12:01 GMT on Friday Nov 24 to 23:59 GMT on Monday Nov 27 and can also be used in my Ravelry and Etsy shops.

Happy holiday making!

About Icelandic wool - A visit to Ístex

You’ve probably guessed by now that I have a soft spot for Icelandic wool (known as lopi) - it really is my favourite fibre, at least so far. I’ve tried other yarns, other fibres, even other wools, but I keep coming back. There’s just so much about it that I love - not least that it's a local, sustainable resource produced right here in Iceland. 

Isolated for centuries, the Icelandic sheep remains one of the purest breeds in the world (no other breeds have been introduced here) and its unique combination of fibres – long, glossy outer fibres called tog and fine, insulating inner fibres called thel  – result in a wool that is lightweight, warm and water-repellent. Different weights and qualities make it possible to go beyond the ubiquitous traditional knitted sweaters - lopapeysa to the locals - to produce beautiful and durable garments, accessories and homewares of all kinds.

Ístex is the biggest and most well-known manufacturer of Icelandic wool and produces a variety of qualities from lace weight to super bulky. I got to visit the Ístex factory in nearby Mosfellsbær last week and came away with an even greater appreciation of this wonderful wool.

Founded in the early 90s by employees of the original Álafoss wool factory, which it shut its doors in 1991 after nearly 100 years of operation, Ístex is today about 80% farmer-owned. It's these farmers who provide the fleece that gets turned into lopi.

Washed fleece ready for processing

The raw fleece is collected from farms around the country and first sent to the scouring facility in the northern town of Blönduos to be washed before making its way to the factory. Once it arrives at Ístex, it's sorted, dyed, carded and spun into yarn. Minimally processed to keep its natural properties intact, the finished yarn maintains a rugged, natural texture in an earthy palette of undyed shades and neutrals, as well as a wide variety of rich colours.

Vats for dyeing

Dyed fleece ready for carding and spinning

Carding machine

Skeins waiting to be wound

Making the threads before spinning and plying - this stage is what's known as plötulopi

The finished yarns include Einband (lace weight), Léttlopi (worsted weight), Álafosslopi (bulky), Bulky Lopi (super bulky), Hosuband (blended with nylon for extra strength), and my personal favourite, Plötulopi, a single-ply unspun thread that is actually the in-between stage before spinning and plying into the other qualities.

Not only is wool a renewable natural resource and the wool grown here in Iceland mulesing-free, but the dyes used by Ístex are eco-friendly (most are OKEO-TEX 100-certified), and the factory itself produces virtually zero waste - loose fibres that fall to the factory floor are collected and either put back into processing or sold on to other buyers. Add lopi's sheer utility and versatility, and there are so many great reasons to use Icelandic wool.

While I mainly use Ístex yarns in my patterns, there are other, smaller brands out there that are definitely worth checking out as well, such as Helene Magnusson (The Icelandic Knitter), Uppspunni Mini Mill, Hespa (naturally dyed yarns), Gústa (an Icelandic wool/alpaca blend) and Einrúm (an Icelandic wool and silk blend also produced by Ístex). 

If you're curious about crocheting with lopi, you can take a look at my patterns which are designed using Icelandic wool or grab yourself a crochet kit with everything you need! For info on where to buy Icelandic wool yarns online, check out the Pattern FAQ page.

Introducing kits

I’m so excited to finally introduce DIY crochet kits for all four patterns in the Rove Handmade Volume 1: Grannies ebook. Kits come in both Basic and Deluxe versions in a range of five sizes and ten beautifully natural shades of Ístex 100% Icelandic wool yarn.

The Basic Kit includes yarn and pattern download code for crocheters who already have everything they need.

The Deluxe Kit comes with all the extras - bamboo crochet hook, notions, and a Rove Handmade wooden tag to add a finishing touch - and makes a special gift for the maker in your life (or just for yourself).

Both versions come packaged in a hand-stamped Rove Handmade natural cotton project bag.

A limited number of kits are available for preorder and will ship on December 9, 2017, just in time for the holidays.

You can check out the kits and preorder yours here.

Slow Fashion October 2017 - Care

To wrap up Slow Fashion October, I’d like to share a few of the ways I make my own wardrobe go the distance. Whether handmade, second-hand or bought new, clothing that is well taken care of lasts longer, plain and simple.

I should start by saying that overall, I'm not too precious about my clothes - I just try to take a common-sense approach to getting the most out of them and making them last. When it comes to laundering, I machine-wash pretty much everything in cold and hang to dry on hangers (partly because of the limited space in our tiny shared laundry room and partly because it’s so easy to just stick them back in the closet once dry). And air drying is so much gentler on clothes than the heat of a dryer, never mind the energy and cost savings.

I also try to wear things at least three times before washing - like many of us, I work indoors so my clothes don't actually get "dirty". If something needs to be refreshed a bit but isn't really in need of laundering, I hang it by an open window overnight or gently steam it. I have a sort of two-week rolling rotation where things get mixed and matched a few times before going in the laundry bin - it's not an exact science, but so far it's working pretty well.

For my handmade knitted and crocheted items, I try not to wash them too often at all - a good airing out (outside if possible) is usually enough to freshen up a woollen sweater and get rid of any odours picked up from the environment. When I do wash my wool, I use the dedicated wool cycle on my washing machine with a very small amount of mild wool soap (such as Lopi Wool Soap), and then lay the item flat to reblock and air dry.

I also highly recommend investing in a battery-operated pill shaver. I got one a few years ago and it has saved so many of my knits (handmade, second-hand and store-bought) from the donation bin (and probably landfill). A good de-pilling combined with the occasional reblocking can take a sweater from tired, pilly and misshapen to completely refreshed and almost new-looking. (You can also use a razor to gently shave off pills, but unless you’re very careful, it can be a little too easy to accidentally cut holes in things… in my experience, at least.)

Dry-cleaning I keep to an absolute minimum - reserved only for coats and heavier items, and usually only once a season when these kinds of things are coming out of or going into storage.

So that's it in a nutshell - pretty basic really and as I said, common-sense ways to stretch the mileage of the things I own.

On another note, my unofficial challenge this month was to wear at least one handmade and/or second-hand item of clothing every day, not including accessories. I’m pleased to say that I managed pretty easily. Now that Slow Fashion October has wound down, I’m planning my winter closet re-organizing session and looking forward to taking stock and seeing what I’ve got with fresh eyes.

And finally, I’d like to thank Karen Templer from Fringe Association for providing this platform for anyone with an interest to explore and share ideas about what slow fashion means to them and how they approach it in their own lives. I’ve been following conversations on Instagram and elsewhere and have enjoyed seeing so many different perspectives. It’s definitely got me thinking even more as I try to articulate my own (sometimes contradictory) thoughts on this important topic and work to become a more conscious consumer and maker.

Slow Fashion October 2017 - New

I have been trying over the last few years to reduce the amount of things, especially new things, that I buy. Living in Iceland, it’s not all that hard for me to forgo clothes shopping for months at a time, mainly because things are just so expensive here. On the other hand, given that Icelanders ranked 8th out of 37 countries in Europe in terms of volume consumption per capita last year, it’s safe to say that Icelanders love to shop, and it’s as difficult here as anywhere to avoid the idea that consumption equals happiness.

One of things I’m working on the hardest is to think more carefully about what I’m buying - not just where it came from, but whether I really need it in the first place. Where I can, I try to buy from sustainable brands, but the truth is, that’s not always easy or within my budget. For some of us, it’s difficult to avoid fast fashion entirely for exactly those reasons. The fact is that I still buy mass-produced clothing from time to time (usually on sale), though much less often and, more important, less overall. I limit purchases to items that I know will last and that I’ll wear for much longer than a season or two, and I use basically the same rules as I do for buying second-hand: I have to have space for it, it has to fit well, and it has to be well-made, no matter where I’m buying from. I don’t feel too bad about having a good few “fast-fashion” items in my closet that I’ve had for years and that still serve me well. I’d love to replace them with more sustainable options one day, but as long as they’re still wearable, I don’t see the need.

And that’s essentially what slow fashion means to me, I think - it’s not just about buying from sustainable brands or small-batch designers and makers or natural, ethically sourced materials - it’s also about critically assessing our needs and wants, buying less and making the things we already have last longer.

Since this week's Slow Fashion October prompt is where, I'll close with a few of my favourite slow fashion sources:

• I recently became obsessed with KowTow, a sustainable brand from New Zealand that's available here in Iceland at Org Reykjavik, a great source for sustainable clothing and accessories brands.
• Farmers Market is a favourite Icelandic slow fashion label, as is Doppelganger Collection.
• Aftur (which means again in Icelandic), makes innovative deconstructed designs from upcycled materials.
• I discovered Toronto brand Hoi Bo two summers ago and am still in love with the linen shift I bought from their Distillery District shop.
• For new fibre, I really only buy Icelandic wool - a local, natural and sustainable resource. Ístex is the biggest manufacturer (for where to buy online, check out my FAQ page), but there are several smaller brands by designers, spinners and dyers - among them Helene Magnusson, Einrúm and Hespa - that are definitely worth checking out.

Most of these are local to me, of course, but if you're inspired to spend less on clothes, you could use the savings to come visit Iceland and check them out for yourself ;)

Grannies CAL

I'm starting my very first crochet-along! I decided it would be fun to do a CAL for my Rove Handmade Volume 1: Grannies ebook, open to anyone who'd like to try one of the patterns. This is a pretty casual and relaxed CAL, designed to be low-key and stress-free. To join in, check out the Grannies CAL Info & Chat thread in the Rove Handmade Ravelry group here, pick a project from the ebook and introduce yourself.

The CAL runs from Oct 21 to Dec 2. Oh, and there will be prizes - more on that later.

I'm so looking forward to seeing your projects!

Slow Fashion October - Second-hand

I’ve always loved old clothes. As a teenager I used to regularly lift items from my parents’ closets - fitted blazers from my mom and beat up old work jeans from my dad. In my twenties, I could spend hours sifting through the racks of dusty attic vintage stores searching for that one great find. I still love the thrill of the find, and over the last couple of years I’ve begun to notice that many of my best-loved and most-worn pieces, are, in fact, second-hand - either thrifted or swapped or given to me by family and friends (the robe in the picture belonged to my grandmother and is probably my most cherished piece) - which makes me feel good for many reasons, not least because it’s one small way to extend the life of perfectly good items of clothing and keep them out of landfill for just a little while longer.

This week’s prompt for Slow Fashion October is how, so I thought I’d talk a little about how I incorporate second-hand into my wardrobe. As with buying new, one of the main issues for me is the sheer volume of things we consume and discard, and making an effort to reduce that consumption overall.

So my first rule is this: It has to fit into my closet and my life. I’ve bought many vintage items over the years that I wound up giving away because they just weren’t “me”, and as much as I loved looking at them, I never wore them. Now I’m much better at knowing what works for me and what doesn’t, and I look for things that suit my own style - classic, understated, neutral -  and that go with the pieces I already own. That doesn’t mean I can’t make space for something special, but it has to be wearable and fit into my existing wardrobe. I regularly reorganize my (very small) closet, which is a great way to take stock of existing items and identify holes.

Rule two: It has to fit. I know myself, and I know that if it doesn’t fit properly it will stay at the bottom of my closet waiting for the day I take it to a tailor - and that day will never come. If you’re someone who is great at altering or remaking clothes to fit you, that’s wonderful (and I do hope to get there one day when I have more free time), but if not, I don’t recommend buying something that doesn’t fit properly, no matter how cheap it is.

And finally, rule three: Quality. I look for good quality fabrics, particularly natural fibres like wool, that don’t show too many signs of wear. Replacing buttons or making small repairs on an otherwise great piece is no problem, but I avoid things that look especially worn out, faded or permanently stained - when I buy something I want it to last, regardless of whether or not it’s brand new.

Second-hand clothing is not without its downsides. For one thing, donating clothing often lulls us into a false sense of “doing good” with little thought as to where that clothing goes or what impact it might have beyond the donation centre. It is still, after all, a linear process. That said, buying second-hand prolongs that lifecycle, which is undoubtedly good thing, especially if it reduces our demand for new clothing and materials overall. And we all have to start somewhere.