Who (or what) Is My Fiber Family?

From the Voie de Vie photo archives, circa approx. Spring 2014: an 
incredible melange of fibers and price points, from Mary Maxim 
acrylic to artisan hand dyed.

(Updated 2/7/19 to correct spelling errors/typos)

I have, in fact, been thinking a lot about this very question recently, and since it is a prompt in this Instagram February challenge (participation in which is quite robust, if you'd like to join us), I thought it worthy of a little deeper dive.

By way of case study, I want to use a recent Countess Ablaze Instagram post (as well as one of the post's comments) from a recent prompt in this very same February challenge. Please firmly note: I am an emphatic fan of the Countess!!!! She has leaned into her life in such an incredible way - not only becoming a marketing genie in the process, but perfecting being a human extraordinaire. 

Tools of my trade: the
hooks always lead.

In this post, she explains her first project - an acrylic crochet blanket, which her daughter still has displayed on a family bed. The Countess described it as a "gateway" project - and of course, her current business reflects that she has long since abandoned her inexpensive, acrylic crochet days for hand-dyed scrumptious natural fibers at considerably higher price points. (Do take stock of the fact that no matter the fiber, her trademark use of eye-popping color is constant.) A quick look at the accessories page of her website underscores this: only three entries for crochet hooks, yet considerably more for knitting. It goes without saying that there is no acrylic in sight in her hand-dyed yarn and fiber inventory.

Among many of the comments in response to this post is one that immediately caught my eye. In it, the commentor indicated (and I'm paraphrasing) that she always provides inexpensive acrylic and hooks to those who want to learn, since the yarn can be, in essence, ripped out and/or otherwise abused by the beginner without guilt (whose guilt, whether the beginner or the one commenting, is unclear).

I had to breathe deeply and remain calm when I got to this section of the comments, because in tandem with the original post, it paints an incredibly inferior picture of crochet (unintentional on the part of the writers no doubt, but evident nonetheless): crochet is a great vehicle to learn a craft, and cheap acrylic is acceptable at the beginning stages of the learning process, but crafters should (and probably will) aspire to something more lofty. Separate, yet aspirationally equal, takes on a whole new meaning, although I am certain there are knitters, too, who started on their crafty path with cheap acrylic yarn.

George Bailey, before he completed his life here on earth, on one of his
favorite blankets, made with hard-working Patons acrylic yarn. It will
work hard perpetually: I could not bear to keep it, opting (at the risk of
being too morbid), to wrap him in it before burying him.

I have written on this blog in a few places, but most recently
here that I am no yarn snob - and the photographic evidence underscores my writing. Additionally, I have written about the intersection between my working class roots and my approach to textiles and clothing here and here - and the upshot is, of course, one cannot escape one's roots, a person can only incorporate and transcend them. Nevertheless, our early associations with things and processes have a huge lasting effect: blame the 70s and early acrylic incarnations to explain why we still make references to cheap acrylic and crochet, despite the fact that both have come a long way since then.

I hope that everyone, who wants to gift the love of craft to a new maker, thinks about the materials beforehand. Those first associations can never be erased. An inexpensive blend (which one can purchase for the same amount as acrylic, in all the same places as acrylic) will stand up to a beginner's uninformed hook, yet still leave the crafter with an early association of the feel of at least some natural fiber and the good it can produce, however awkward the effort. That association will have a positive impact on that new crafter's willingness to keep a well-rounded stash in future.

The acrylic and the indie dyed, side by side.

I am not suggesting doing away with acrylic. It has its place, for a whole host of reasons. But making it into something one must aspire to overcome is short-sighted and, to many, elitist. I personally may limit my acrylic-blend use to certain types of projects for environmental, residual crochet-centric stereotypical, and other reasons, including my wallet: sometimes a blend is the best my budget can afford, and I know I am not the only one in this particular yarny boat, the Countess's excellent use of color notwithstanding.

Now, if she decided she wanted to hand-dye acrylic blends and sell them at lower price points, she might be onto something else. That dyeing mix would, of course, come closer to symbolizing my true fiber family.