In sewing, I like running stitches best--just the plain old straight stitch, back and forth. This morning, I found the perfect use for that: darning socks.
Some darners seek to make their repairs invisible, but darning is so old-fashioned, it's become almost exotic. Why not flaunt colorful weaves?
Of course you'd have to take your shoes off... so flashing your darned heels might best be reserved for friends or intimate relationships. Sort of a Victorian Secret.
My first pair of darned socks:
Second Pair: I darned Baymax, the "personal healthcare companion" from the animated movie Big Hero 6.
As I was darning at the coffee shop with bink, I said, "I bet I'm not the only one with a drawer full of holey, expensive socks." [SmartWool-brand socks, for instance, like these above, cost around $20/pair.] Maybe people would hire me to darn their socks."
"Yeah," she said, "you could call your sock-repair service Darn Smart."
I could really see doing this, once I practice a bit more on my own. It's hardly rocket science, but you do want smooth darns, especially on the toes, and the thread-ends should be woven in (though I like the fringe-effect here, and I wonder how they'll wear).
Update: The loose ends should be fine: the foot's pressure mats down or felts the wool darn, so it doesn't unravel. Still, I will weave them in.
And my instinct to not knot the thread is correct: don't add any lumps that might rub the foot, and darn on the outside of the sock: the smoother side will be inside, against the foot.
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As I was writing this, the toy animals here started clamoring for socks. They didn't even know what socks were before, and now they think they should have some.
I told them socks are for winter, to buy myself a little time to make some for them.
May I say, I'm not losing my mind, I've always been this way about toy animals, though mostly I've not lived with plush animals (mostly ceramic or the like). Several came to stay, however, after Marz moved here, and just lately they've taken up residence in a wood box.
They sleep for long periods (months, even), but when they're awake, they can be rather demanding. They've been up-and-at-'em since they saw Mad Max, and today they see that Zhoen has introduced her animals, for instance, and now they want me to introduce them too.
So, here they are. (Lollpoop is an old word for a lie-about.)
Some darners seek to make their repairs invisible, but darning is so old-fashioned, it's become almost exotic. Why not flaunt colorful weaves?
Of course you'd have to take your shoes off... so flashing your darned heels might best be reserved for friends or intimate relationships. Sort of a Victorian Secret.
My first pair of darned socks:
Second Pair: I darned Baymax, the "personal healthcare companion" from the animated movie Big Hero 6.
As I was darning at the coffee shop with bink, I said, "I bet I'm not the only one with a drawer full of holey, expensive socks." [SmartWool-brand socks, for instance, like these above, cost around $20/pair.] Maybe people would hire me to darn their socks."
"Yeah," she said, "you could call your sock-repair service Darn Smart."
I could really see doing this, once I practice a bit more on my own. It's hardly rocket science, but you do want smooth darns, especially on the toes, and the thread-ends should be woven in (though I like the fringe-effect here, and I wonder how they'll wear).
Update: The loose ends should be fine: the foot's pressure mats down or felts the wool darn, so it doesn't unravel. Still, I will weave them in.
And my instinct to not knot the thread is correct: don't add any lumps that might rub the foot, and darn on the outside of the sock: the smoother side will be inside, against the foot.
_________________________________
As I was writing this, the toy animals here started clamoring for socks. They didn't even know what socks were before, and now they think they should have some.
I told them socks are for winter, to buy myself a little time to make some for them.
May I say, I'm not losing my mind, I've always been this way about toy animals, though mostly I've not lived with plush animals (mostly ceramic or the like). Several came to stay, however, after Marz moved here, and just lately they've taken up residence in a wood box.
They sleep for long periods (months, even), but when they're awake, they can be rather demanding. They've been up-and-at-'em since they saw Mad Max, and today they see that Zhoen has introduced her animals, for instance, and now they want me to introduce them too.
So, here they are. (Lollpoop is an old word for a lie-about.)
