Can you resist the fig-leaf bikini?

I may live to regret this, but tonight I think I'm going to break one of the cardinal rules of yarn blogging and say something negative. Please hold your rotten tomatoes till the end, folks. I promise you'll get a chance to throw them all.

In a discussion at the Crochet Liberation Front board at Ravelry, ProperTrappings (who for some reason does not have a blog I can link to, boo) asked if anyone else was familiar with this book:


So far, I'm the only person to admit to seeing Hookorama, and, as I explained to ProperTrappings, "and to be totally honest, I’ve since cited it as one of the reasons knitters think crochet is crap."

Hookorama is filled with bright, cartoony patterns for things I can't figure out a single use for. The thing everyone, myself included, brings up first is the Garden of Eden section with the fig-leaf bikinis. It's not that I'm opposed to crocheted bikinis (though you'd have to be daft to go in the water in one) or even fig-leaf bikinis, necessarily -- I imagine there are designers out there who could make them look beautiful. But unfortunately Hookorama's version looks more something the goofy middle-school kids playing with construction paper came up with. (I can't find a picture online, so I guess you'll have to take my word for it. Or not.) And then there's a lot of cartoony fake fruit... I cannot recall a single pattern I felt would be useful enough to make. ProperTrappings rightfully points out that it's probably aimed at the teen market and anything that gets people interested in crochet is good, but to me, I can't help it, it looks like a crochet joke book.

But why does that bother you, Mad Crocheter? Don't you have a sense of humor? You really are mad, aren't you?

Well, to answer those questions:

1). It bothers me because for some reason, Hookorama is one of the few crochet books I've seen in multiple LYS (local yarn stores, Mom, just in case you're reading). Yet I can't find a copy of Everyday Crochet -- a book hailed for its creative yet wearable garments -- in any of them. Maybe Hookorama looks like a cute, fun, colorful book, and I'm sure lots of people have picked it up. But I'm equally sure most of those people put it back down -- only two Ravelry users have done projects from the book, and one was a contributor to the book and the other one frogged the project . And I'm also sure quite a few of those people were knitters who, as they put it down, made disparaging remarks about the fig-leaf bikini, followed by "but what can you expect from crochet?" I understand that there's not as much of a market for crochet as knitting right now, and therefore I don't badger my LYS owners to stock more crochet books, knowing I'm just one person and I barely know any fellow locals who crochet. But when that precious crochet shelf space goes to a kitsch collection, how will anyone ever know there's more to crochet than that? My Google research suggested the book was originally published in 1980 -- if true, that's a long time ago. There's been a lot of innovation since then, in both knitting and crochet. Why can't we have new stuff instead of kitschy reprints? Is the market really that bad?

2). I do have a sense of humor, and sometimes it even intersects crochet. But amigurumi takes care of my humorous crochet needs just fine, thanks. With style and creativity in spades. The Japanese are currently reinventing crochet, but I'll save that for another time.

3). Not mad so much as frustrated. The cycle as I imagine it: LYS owner doesn't know much about crochet. LYS owner stocks book because it looks bright and colorful and will look nice on the shelf next to SnB: The Happy Hooker. Crocheter picks up book. Unless crocheter has a fig-leaf fetish, crocheter puts book down, figuring LYS has nothing for crocheters. Knitter picks up book. Knitter puts book down, figuring crochet is just as tacky as they've been told. Book doesn't sell. LYS owner figures no one wants crochet, and doesn't stock more crochet books.

And now, because even though I broke a cardinal rule of yarn blogging and am now a jerk, I don't want to be a super-duper jerk (by yarners' standards; I think those are stricter than most bloggers' standards): If you are one of the writers or designers of this book, please understand: I don't want you to starve, I don't hate your work, I know there's a place for it. I just wish there were a place for the new things too.

First, the good news.

I did manage to finish the Sooper Secret Project last night, at least the crochet part. Now I just have to do the finishing, which will involve a search for velvet cord (can you believe Michaels doesn't have it? at Christmas?) and the ever-popular weaving in ends. *groan* If you see me tonight at Knitch, I might be persuaded to show it to you. And I made it without running out of yarn. I even have a little bit left that I'll probably have to talk myself out of using for some ridiculous embellishment. Which leads me to... The Bad News.

If You Want Crochet to Get Respect, Mad Crocheter, Then Why Do You Insist on Using Those Loud Variegated Yarns?

Afterwards, I took a picture of the almost-finished project with my cell phone and sent it to Natalia. Then I called her, eager to hear what she thought of it.

"It's very... bright."

Suddenly I'm flashing back to Project Runway, season 3, the couture episode, and remembering how much I loved Kayne's dress with the gold corset, as shown above.

And then I'm remembering how, after I'd gushed over the dress to my viewing companions, Tim Gunn delicately said of Kayne, "His taste level is just not there." And I was all OMG Tim Gunn is saying I have bad taste and now he'll never be my gay boyfriend.

I have always had a taste for the bright and gaudy. I remember shopping in department stores with my mother as a child and suggesting she try on the tops with spangles. Now that I'm grown, I may dress pretty conservatively, but it seems that now my taste for the loud has taken over my yarn shopping. And those hand-painted sock yarns look awesome as socks, but when I make something not covered by shoes out of them, do they look dorky? After all, mustard-and-avocado variegated yarn is part and parcel of the '70's crochet stereotype that's scared off so many crafters. (Along with bad acrylic and toilet-paper cozies, but we'll save those for another time.)

So, for the greater good of crochet, I wonder if it's time for me to embrace more... sedate color choices. I suppose the reaction to this project will help me decide.