Knitted things for opera people
While searching for interesting sock patterns (I'm almost finished a pair of socks as a present for my grandmother, and I'm on a roll), I came across the Tsock Tsarina, who makes kits for clever themed socks: mythological socks, Egyptian socks, and even a fantastically geeky "Nine Tailors" sock that incorporates a colorwork panel to represent Kent Treble Bob Major. (As a fan of both mathematical knitting and Dorothy Sayers, I'm in awe. And I think I must essay these socks at some point.) But what especially got my attention was the Turandot sock, alluding to the Puccini opera and incorporating a Chinese dragon, double happiness ideograms, and three cabled question marks to represent Turandot's three riddles. And it got me thinking: what else could one design by way of operatic knitting?
There are, of course, plenty of elegant things one could make to wear to the opera. Ravelry lists quite a few patterns for operagoing attire, primarily shawls, shrugs, elbow-length gloves, of which this pattern is perhaps my favorite, and evening bags. But what about motifs that refer to particular operas? Few things are as tacky as an over-decorated sweater, so one would have to be careful not to go overboard with the design. And some operas might not lend themselves to such a project: I'd just as soon not knit a Lucia di Lammermoor garment, in a tartan pattern interrupted by splotches of blood-red and a knife motif. (Ditto for Verdi's Macbeth.)
But there are subtler approaches. I love the tree motif on these "Deep in the Forest" mittens; with a little tweaking, one could turn it a Norma-esque pattern of Druid oaks. Pyramids and lotus columns for Aida would be fairly easy, if a bit over-obvious. And I was thinking that it wouldn't be impossible to design a cable that looks like a lyre for Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice, but someone has already created a Eurydice sock much along the lines I was imagining.
And then there are knitted things modeled on what characters in operas actually wear. One could make a whole suite of La Bohème winter knitwear (heavy scarves, shawls, muffs, bonnets), for example. Or Susanna's headdress from Act 1 of Le Nozze di Figaro ("Sembra fatto in ver per me!"), although what the libretto calls a little hat was more likely a garland of orange flowers.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put on La Traviata and finish a sweater.
🙂
AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaargh! Whimper! Moan!
What have you DONE?
How can I live without making a Turandot Sock? How can I face life without joining TsockFlock club 2009? she demands, operatically.
And it’s all your fault.
Sob. Wail.
(What an entirely brilliant post. DLS and mathematical knitting… sigh of delight.)
Err…sorry? But I’m glad you liked it! I’m tempted by the Tsock Flock too. Or at the very least, the Turandot and Nine Tailors kits (and maybe the Cleopatra as well).
I will admit to being profoundly jealous of anyone who can a) figure out how campanology works and b) translate it into a knitting pattern. I mean, I dream of having that kind of brain.
Also, I just remembered that The Firebird was my mother’s favorite ballet when she was growing up, and I think she would love the Firebird socks. Sock yarn isn’t an indulgence when you’re making presents for other people, is it? (Of course, she also loves all of the Lord Peter Wimsey novels, so she’d get a kick out of Nine Tailors as well.)
I really want to make both the Nine Tailors sock and the Turandot sock. I don’t think I’m advanced enough for Nine Tailors yet, but maybe I should try to order it soon, since the pattern is almost two years old. Hmmm…in any case, thanks for the tip!
You’re welcome! Socks seem impossible when you first start making them, but the heel thing makes sense as you go along. The multicolor panel is the thing I find most daunting about that pattern — I’m still a colorwork n00b.