you may recall that i have an awesome brother.
now it turns out i have another awesome brother.
(i also have a sister, who admittedly has an awesome washing machine as well as some fairly awesome food at my disposal, but until she offers me some kind of a knitting-related near-life experience as described below, or saves me from the depths of a mental institution, or something, for now she herself will remain slightly less than awesome.)
this brother flew out to the great new york city recently and, in between doing all sorts of manly man stuff, dutily made his way down to broome street, where at number 459 there lies a soft humble haven, a holy destination for knittery pilgrims everywhere, called purl soho.
obviously not the crafty type himself, he had generously agreed to act as a surrogate buyer for certain yarns that are scarcely available elsewhere. i didn’t even have to bribe him, or make him feel guilty, or beat him up with a traditional finnish musical instrument, as i vividly recall doing back in the early ’90s.
all a testament to his awesomeness.
and so, with my meticulously crafted shopping list in hand he stepped into a world completely unknown to him, and summoning up an admirable amount of pioneer spirit proceeded to complete the list down to every last detail.
a cardigan’s worth of brooklyn tweed loft in almanac, a perfect deep blue with perfect little specs of turquoise. and with delightfully imperfect little flecks of plant matter wedged between the plies, which some may find crude and offensive, but which i just find adorable. snooky-ookums. poodgy woo.
another two skeins of loft in woodsmoke and old world, already on their way to become a bayard hat. not the most creative choice of colors, but then again, i never claimed to be creative in the first place.
two skeins of BT shelter in homemade jam. i’m planning on a rosebud, but reserve the right to change my mind. gorgeous heathered color nonetheless.
and to top everything off, a skein of spud & chloë fine, a sinfully luxurious blend of merino and silk, in an aptly named colorway of burnt orange called orangutan.
“really fuckin’ expensive,” brother awesome commented on the total sum when i later went to collect my hairy babies from him, pointing out in a loving, brotherly manner that, after all, it’s just yarn. to this i was unable to respond, because i had my face buried in the lofty loftness of the seven loft skeins, fighting down tears of overwhelming emotional movement.
|how anyone would consider this expensive is beyond me|
the only thing that irks me now, the thing that is driving me absolutely berserk, is that he’s now been there and i haven’t.
MY BEANSTALK ENGINEER OF A BROTHER HAS BEEN TO PURL SOHO AND I HAVEN’T.
he’s awesome, but still. @!#$%.