Knitwear designers like a mystery
(Originally published July 2023)
It’s too warm and humid to knit right now.
But that hasn’t stopped me from browsing for knitting patterns online. I’m looking ahead to fall, when the thought of a pile of wool in my lap won’t make me break out in a spontaneous heat rash.
Last week, I began going through cardigan patterns. It was tricky. Thanks to the bold artistic vision of certain designers, the pattern search became more of a mystery game in which I had to piece together the concept of a cardigan rather than see a clear picture of one.
“I admire the audacity of a business model that says I’m not entitled to know what I’m buying.”
To be fair, most designers don’t make a point of obscuring the very products they are trying to sell. Their models are smiling. Their photos are well lit and give a full view of their patterns, which are knitted in light colors to show off the stitches. I can see at a glance whether these designs sport raglan sleeves or drop shoulders and whether the body is fitted or boxy.
But the cool designers seem to feel that using clear images to sell a pattern reeks of desperation. From their models, all I can deduce is that a pattern will be suitable for practicing an extreme yoga pose or sitting on a flight of stone steps, hugging my knees and staring into the far distance with a look of existential dread.
As annoying as that is, I admire the audacity of a business model that says I’m not entitled to know what I’m buying. One of the cardigan patterns I clicked on, for instance, showed a model crouched behind a tree in the woods, presumably hiding from a bear. To that designer, please accept my slow clap of admiration.
Let other designers take the easy way out, using photos that highlight the pockets or the cable detail that travels up the sleeve. Not you. You sneer at such manufactured compositions, and rightfully so. “In real life, no one just stands there facing the camera,” you say. “In real life, there are bears. And one must dress accordingly.”
I ran into the same disdainful marketing approach this spring, when I was searching for a knitted linen tank top pattern. I didn’t have anything specific in mind; I just wanted the shoulders to be wide enough to cover my bra straps.
The most avant-garde designers, however, outsmarted me: They made sure the pouting models all had their long hair pulled forward over their chests, covering not only the garments’ shoulders but sometimes even the necklines.
Aspiring designers should take note. Instead of presenting a knitted item from multiple angles, they should emulate the pros and show their models twirling in blurry circles, peeking out from behind walls or wearing sandwich boards. Ideally, the photos should reveal only 15 percent of the sweater, knitted in detail-swallowing black yarn. Such counterintuitive choices really pique a buyer’s interest.
A stylish, view-hindering pose I come across a lot involves a model crossing her arms in front of her body and half-squatting, as though she’s about to get splattered with a paintball. That—not a closeup of the stitch texture—conveys the mood of the sweater, which is all that matters.
I shouldn’t, however, give all the credit to the knitwear designers. They no doubt work with equally visionary photographers, who stage these striking and entirely unhelpful shots. And I can just imagine how it goes.
Photographer: “Hm. Let’s have the model holding a tall stack of books, so potential pattern buyers can’t see what the front of her cardigan looks like.”
Designer: “I like that. But won’t the distinctive collar still be visible?”
Photographer: “No problem. We’ll just pull her hair forward over her shoulders. I do it all the time with tank tops.”
Designer: “You’re a damn genius.”
The hard work of these dedicated artistes turned my most recent search for a cardigan pattern into a guessing game that went on for several evenings. At last, after many hours of shaking my fist at the computer—in admiration—I found a cardigan I think is going to work.
I won’t tell you what it looks like (since I don’t quite know myself yet), but let’s just say that if I run into a bear in the woods this fall, I’ll be dressed for it.
