Perhaps I should have considered the fact that the last time I remember sewing with a knit fabric was in high school before deciding to use it for a gift. There was much cursing and unpicking of wiggly seams, but the shirt turned out ok in the end.

A birthday present for my best friend who loves clothes but doesn't have much in the way of maternity / nursing gear (I hear babies are expensive!). The pattern is from Megan Nielsen, although I made things harder than they needed to be and used this pattern to make this. Don't do that unless you like drafting pattern pieces and winging the construction, just get the actual pattern. Made things even more complicated by doubling the thin fabric at the front bodice and midriff band so it would be a little more structured and the modesty panel's edges wouldn't show through. I wanted this to be a surprise so I didn't have any measurements, although I did add some extra room at the bust. 

It wasn't until I was almost done that I realised the thread I chose for colour alone was quilting thread. At least there was an explanation for the oddly thick seams, but oops!

The binding around the neckline is a little more stretched out than it needs to be, you can tell that the print on the edges looks a little strained. This caused some pulling on the midriff band but it seems functional. And my friend texted me a picture to show that it fits and seems happy so I'm calling it a success, even if it's a little imperfect.

Heading home now to work on another sewing project that I'm very excited about, finally finishing a dress my grandmother started  50-60 years ago. 

Could you design and knit a large project, like a sweater, in 21 days? Could you imbue it with the deeply personal story of your own life, while giving it broad appeal so that others would want to knit it? Could you make a video showing your work in progress and explaining your inspiration? Could you send it off, knowing that a panel of judges would turn it inside out, examine your stitches and critique whether you'd successfully told your tale in yarn?

I'm not sure that I could do any of that, let alone all of it. But that's what all 12 contestants on the Fiber Factor succeeded in doing. Maybe the fact that I went to a school that didn't believe in competitive sports days is showing, but as far as I'm concerned that makes them all winners and I was honoured to examine and discuss them. In the end, we spent hours chatting about the entries and were picking things apart to find the littlest details that could be improved upon. It was rather delightful to chat with others who care so deeply about how crisply a yarn outlines yarn overs, whether the selvedge treatment was the neatest choice, or whether grading was considered when choosing cable patterns. I have so much respect for the contestants who made themselves, and their work, vulnerable to our judgements, and I hope all of them find our feedback helpful. We certainly tried to make it constructive and I know I learned from my fellow judges. 

In the end we had to choose a winner and you can find out who won in the video of our judging session (fortunately edited down a little from the original 4 hour chat!) now posted on the Fiber Factor site. I can't wait to see what all of the contestants do next!

Mulespun yarn is rather special, a type of woollen spun yarn that creates an especially airy, bouncy yarn. In the words of Bartlett Yarns, the last operational mule in the United States "The principle of the mule is to duplicate the motion of a handpspinner." The carded fibre is drawn out, as twist is put into it, and then that section is wound onto bobbins before the process begins again. In other spinning methods the fibre is constantly drawn and twisted, without the pause where the tension is relaxed.

There is no mule involved, I'll admit that when I first heard the name I pictured a mill powered by a mule walking in circles. It's called a spinning mule because when it was invented it was a cross between two other kinds of spinning machines. There aren't very many operating spinning mules, I believe there are only a couple left in North America, although historically they were more common in Europe (as far as I know most spinning equipment was imported to N. America from Europe and I suspect the mules were heavier and more costly although I am far from an expert on this history).

There is, however, one practically in my backyard, and anyone can visit it. A couple of months ago we went on a field trip to New Lanark, a former cotton mill village and now a museum. The spinning mule is in operation now spinning wool yarns that can be purchased in the museum shop or ordered online. There's also a hotel, youth hostel and holiday apartments if you ever want to visit and the village is a fairly short drive from both Edinburgh and Glasgow. I mentioned this briefly in the video but it's also historically important because of its place in the history of labour and education.

Sarah used New Lanark's Donegal Silk Tweed Dk for a Blank Canvas, which turned out beautifully.

Thank you for all of the thoughtful comments on my previous post. I've been thinking about the stories behind our textiles, and so often it seems that problems lurk where we don't know the story, where there is no transparency about their creation. 

As a crafter I'm always interested in the story not just of the finished object, but of the raw materials so I've been intrigued by A Verb for Keeping Warm's new yarn since I first heard about the project. Fortunately, when I got my hands on it, the yarn itself turned out to be as compelling as its story and I couldn't resist playing with it. Kristine has built a successful natural dye and lys business over the last few years, and is now attempting to revitalise the California wool industry, reducing waste and growing jobs.
I suspect that Pioneer is just the first step. You can read more about the yarn's story, and the fascinating people that made it a reality, on Kristine's blog.

Pioneer is a soft but rustic woollen spun merino, and was spun by one of my favourite businesses in this industry, Green Mountain Spinnery in Vermont. Green Mountain is a worker owned cooperative, spinning yarn under their own brand and for others with a focus on supporting small farmers. Last autumn I visited them and took some photos for a different project that I'm working on, a project for which the stories behind the yarns we use form a central part. It may seem like a slightly odd choice to send the fibre across country to be turned into yarn, but in most places, a local mill of the right type just doesn't exist and Green Mountain's story seems to fit in so well to this project.

I'm dreaming of using Pioneer for bigger projects, but until then these little cuffs were a fun way to try it out. If you do make something larger, this would be a perfect way to use up the leftovers. The tutorial is really a guideline, I only stopped making these when I started to run out of arm space, they're an excellent little canvas for trying out ideas.

Crafting perched on a wall in the garden is optional, but we've had so little spring that I'm making the most of every bit we get.

You will need

Download the templates and chart.

A note on gauge - I used a relatively small needle for these, to give a firm gauge. Using a US 3 / 3.25mm needle I got about 6 sts per inch in garter stitch and 7 in stranded colourwork. They're so little and sizing isn't too crucial so I wouldn't bother swatching, just use a needle that keeps things nice and sturdy for you. The fair isle cuff is knit in the round, so you'll need needles for your preferred method of knitting a small circumference in the round. For any of the others you can use whichever needles you prefer.

I used small amounts of several colours, not usually everyone's favourite thing to purchase, but the good news is that this is perfect for leftovers or if you can't decide which colour to use for a larger project without testing them. A stack of different cuffs in a single colour would also look really effective and you could make a whole bunch from just one skein.

Step 1 - the knitted parts

Knit the cuff according to the directions below and block. 

Cuff A - shown in Tree Fort

this would actually be a fun first project if there's someone in your life you want to introduce to knitting.

Cast on 4 sts.

Work 6 rows in st st (k 1 row, p 1 row).

*Next row: kfb to end (8 sts).

Work in garter stitch (k every row) until there are 14 purl ridges on the right side, ending with a wrong side row.

Next row: k2tog to end (4 sts).

Work 5 rows in st st.

Rep from * once more.
Bind off.

Cuff B - shown in Wolf Lichen

When working cables work across cable stitches in 'k1, p1' rib as set. Even if you prefer to cable without a cable needle you may find it easier to use one for these reversible cables.

Cast on 12 sts.

Row 1: (k1, p1) to end.

Rep row 1 5 more times.

*Next row: C8B, (k1, p1) twice.

Work 3 rows in 'k1, p1' rib as set.

Next row: (k1, p1) twice, C8F.

Work 3 rows in 'k1, p1' rib as set.

Rep from * until cuff measures approx 1" less than desired circumference of cuff, ending with 5 rows of rib after final cable row. Bind off.

Cuff C - shown in Horse's Mane

When working cables work across cable stitches in 'k1, p1' rib as set. Even if you prefer to cable without a cable needle you may find it easier to use one for these reversible cables.

Cast on 8 sts.

Row 1: (k1, p1) to end.

Rep row 1 5 more times.

*Next row: C8B.

Work 7 rows in 'k1, p1' rib as set.

Rep from * until cuff measures approx 1" less than desired circumference of cuff, ending with 5 rows of rib after final cable row. Bind off.

Cuff D shown in Wolf Lichen

Cast on 5 sts.

*Row 1: k1, p3, k1.

Row 2: k.

Rep last 2 rows once more.

Row 5 (RS): k2, yo, k1, yo, k2.
Row 6 and following WS rows: k1, p to 1 sts before end, k1.

Row 7: k3, yo, k1, yo, k3.

Row 9: k4, yo, k1, yo, k4. 

Work 7 rows even.

Next row (RS): k1, ssk, k to 3 sts before end, k2tog, k1.

Next row: k1, p to 1 sts before end, k1.

Rep last 2 rows twice more.

Next row: k1, sl1, k2tog, psso, k1.

Next row: k1, p1, k1.

Work 6 rows in garter st. Bind off.

Pick up and knit 5 sts from cast on edge with RS facing. Rep from *once more for second leaf.

Cuff E

With background colour (shown in Horse's Mane) cast on 30 sts; k 3 rows.

Next row: (kfb, k4) to end. 36 sts. Join rnd and distribute stitches evenly between needles. 

Next rnd: k to 2 sts before end, this will be the new beginning of the rnd.

Joining contrast colours as necessary work 13 rnds in stranded colourwork following chart, ending last rnd 2 sts before end, this will be the new beginning of the rnd. Break off contrast colours and complete cuff in backround colour.

Next rnd: (k4, k2tog) to end. 30 sts. Turn and k 3 rows back and forth. Bind off.

Crochet steek (on first and 2nd stitch and first and last stitch of round) and cut.

Step 2 - the leather

Print and cut out the appropriate template for your cuff. Draw around the template on the wrong side of your leather, I find a ballpoint pen works well for marking the leather. Transfer the markings for holes and slits, I use the super fancy method of stabbing the pen through the paper to do this. Cut out the leather pieces.

Punch holes, I use the smallest punch for the stitching holes and the 2nd smallest for the snap holes (you might need a larger hole if you're using heavier duty snaps.)

Cut slits, I do this by folding the leather in half and cutting from the foldline out.

Step 3 - joining leather + wool

For the cuffs with two leather pieces, sew the each leather piece to the short ends of the knitted piece. Use a length of matching yarn threaded on a darning needle and bring the needle up through the knitting and then through the first hole in the leather, leaving a 6"ish tail. Backstitch to join the pieces, then weave in all ends on the wrong side.

For the leaf and garter stitch cuffs weave in the ends and simply thread through the slits cut in the leather piece.

Step 4 - add snaps

Following the directions that came with your snaps add snaps to each end of your cuff. For the cuffs that aren't stitched together, poke the snap through both the leather and the knitting so that when the snap is set it joins them. Optional - distress snap with sand paper or by rubbing on a rock.

Step 5

Wear with pride while swinging from a tree and dreaming of everything else you could knit from pioneer.

No, I'm not planning an adventure, the map shows all of the countries I found on clothing labels in a very quick scan through my wardrobe this morning. In some ways I was surprised to find there weren't more and that so many were in Europe. I was also rather surprised by how many companies don't include the country of origin on the label. The worst offender in my own wardrobe was Toast, who do appear to take production ethics seriously. I'd like to see more precise information, however. Although I'm certainly aware of the horrific problems in the global garment industry I find it exhausting and complicated to figure out the most ethical shopping choices. But the horrific, and so easily preventable, tragedy this week in Bangladesh starkly shows how important this is. I can do better, we can all do better.

It often seems like the simplest way to make more ethical clothing choices is to be or become someone who doesn't care much about the aesthetics of clothing. But I do love clothes, I enjoy acquiring new ones, and find putting together outfits creatively fulfilling. Of course, I certainly don't think everyone should share my interest, and would never judge those who don't, but I know that for myself I need to find a way to work with, rather than against those desires. Recently I've been trying to be a little more thoughtful about my daily outfits, and I've been sharing some of them on flickr. I've found that it's helping me to enjoy my current wardrobe and to shop more carefully for items that fulfill a gap and are perfect, rather than just sort of what I was looking for (I'm embarrassingly guilty of buying multiple white shirts in a quest for the one that is just right - it never ends up being worth settling for the ones that aren't perfect so I'm trying to break that habit.)

I try buy things that are well made, in natural fibres, that will last for several years, but to be honest I find the term 'fast-fashion' about as annoying as I find the term 'real-food'.  Both are loaded terms, implying judgements of people who are so frivolous that they buy cheap clothes by the dozens and throw them away barely worn. Of course, most people in the Western world are buying more garments than they used to, but their reasons for doing so are more complicated than this term implies. Women especially are judged all of the time for their clothing, for their style, for wearing the same shirt too often or on consecutive days. There's a lot of privilege in opting out of that, in escaping, responding to and refusing to participate in that sort of judgement. Building a wardrobe of classic, durable pieces takes money, time or both and I think it's important to find ways to talk about doing that without shaming those who lack those resources. Even if you’re pretty aware of these issues, or don’t fall into the obsessive consumer box, it’s hard to change your perception of what something should cost. Maybe we can start focusing on the positive aspects of well made clothing and find ways to make getting dressed interesting without a constant injection of new pieces.

I pretty much help people to make their own clothes for a living, but I make a very small percentage of my own wardrobe. In many ways, I'm not sure that opting out of the global garment industry is a solution. I know it's not the solution for me, and that it's impossible for many, although I have a huge amount of respect for people who craft all or most of their own clothes. However, making our own clothing might be most valuable in the ways in which it alters our perceptions of quality and value. It's hard to look at a cheap shirt in the same way when you've spent the best part of a weekend sewing something similar, how can it possibly be made so cheaply without causing harm?

Some clothes are, indeed, so cheap that it seems impossible that they could be made ethically, but price is no guarantee of either ethical manufacture or high quality. In yet another vicious cycle the availability of clothing affordable enough to replace regularly has eroded our need for the knowledge required to judge the quality and durability of a prospective purchase. Creating your own garments is one way to learn about the quality of materials and construction methods.

Buying second-hand or vintage clothing, and donating unwanted clothing can seem like a way to opt out of the garment industry but is not without problems. The Clean Clothes Campaign, which is dedicated to "improving working conditions in the global garment industry" outlines some of them.

However, we don't propose this as the simple solution to the industry's problems. Jobs for workers in the fashion industry are a life line for many. We feel it is our job to promote these jobs, but advocate for them to be well paid and secure. Buying less first hand clothing could slow down production, reduce pressure in workplaces, and help improve conditions. But it could also cause job losses for workers who rely on the fashion industry for their livelihoods, and not improve workplace pressure at all. We have no way to measure this effect. (Yes, we know it's not a pretty picture!)

It is also important to mention the big problem of waste created by the second hand clothing business. It is often the case that second hand clothing, when not sold, is dumped on emerging markets in developing countries, and their local fashion industry is damaged. If and when you support a second hand clothing retailer, it is important to ask questions about their waste and ensure that it isn't having this effect.

The second issue is a major problem. Donating unwanted clothing assuages our feelings of guilt, but it's important to examine whether such warm, fuzzy feelings are warranted. Projects such as this Oxfam one in Senegal do seem to be focused on meeting a demand that isn't met by local manufacture and improving the local economy and employment options. It's another good reason for trying to focus on higher quality, classic garments - they'll hold their value in your own wardrobe for longer, but are also more likely to have a resale value or be desired by a friend. I have a large bag of clothes that I don't wear, for various reasons, that I want to carefully consider before simply donating them. I need to find the time and enthusiasm for altering or re-purposing them. Perhaps stating that publicly will help to hold me accountable to that goal.

Wearing a vintage blouse, that I'm at least the third owner of, that just needs a little work on the buttons to be truly wearable. Plus raw denim jeans that should get better with wear.

There are also successful companies (Boden, Toast, Land’s End spring to mind) whose success does seem to hinge, at least partially, on actively trying to generate a reputation for quality, long lasting garments.

From Toast's ethical policy.

It can be hard to find companies who focus on fair, ethical trade if your style doesn't tend towards tie-dyed cheesecloth (nothing wrong with that, but it's not, for example, work appropriate for most people). People Tree have also, over the last few years, been trying to combine the fun parts of trendy fashion with ethically made clothing - they had one collection aimed at teenage girls / younger women that was designed (uh… curated maybe?) by Emma Watson. Of course there’s plenty of green-washing going on in marketing and not all of the companies that are focusing on quality are necessarily particularly ethical in other ways but I’m hopeful that this will start to change perceptions.

Patagonia take an interesting approach, it's possible to track the manufacture of any of their garments here http://pcpsia.com/ They have a lot of information about the production of their clothing on their website, and I appreciate that it's very upfront about their imperfections and past mistakes, it would be great to see this approach from more companies. One of the things I find fascinating is that they apparently decided to improve their ethical standards partly out of a desire to do the right thing, but also because their customers were noticing a decline in quality. "It really is true that you can’t make good products in a bad factory."

Patagonia also highlights the practices higher up the supply chain that can put pressure on factories: "Last-minute changes to orders, unreasonable price demands and hurry-up delivery times can exacerbate already difficult conditions on the factory floor." Whoever is ultimately held responsible for the devastating loss of life in Bangladesh, or the less dramatic but no-less devastating daily brutalities in garment factories around the world, the clothing companies that place such unreasonable demands on their suppliers surely deserve some of the blame.

Not all companies are going to work to improve conditions in factories solely out of a desire to do the right thing, or in response to consumer demand, but is it possible that things could change in such a way that profits become a motivator? Perhaps I'm being overly optimistic, but I'm starting to notice some changes that might have that effect. The trend towards online shopping, and to discussing and sharing style on the internet seems to be changing the focus somewhat away from having new garments in store weekly, to limiting returns and making sure that people can still buy that great sweater they saw on a blog.

Garment sizing would be a whole other blog post, but one of the biggest reasons for returning clothing has to be that it's an inconsistent size. Some of the most successful online retailers have achieved their success partly by offering free, easy returns and marketing the hassle free nature of trying on multiple sizes. But returns cost retailers, and more and more seem to be aiming for more consistent sizing. In terms of consistency, I mean partly that a size 12 is a size 12 is a size 12, but also that the the same garment in the same size will have consistent measurements. 'Runs small, large, true to size' is a common checkbox on online reviews, and Boden, for example, now include both a sizing chart of body measurements and the actual garment measurements.

Only functional if a certain quality and consistency in manufacture is maintained.

Customers love this, and it has to help to reduce the number of returns, but it only has value if multiple garments that should be the same actually are. That's not easy to achieve when you're making those garments as cheaply as possible, with a poorly treated, disposable, low-skill workforce.

Modcloth encourages reviewers to give their own measurements and feedback on the sizing and quality of garments.

One reason that the same garment in the same size can measure so drastically different is the way that the fabric is cut. In commercial garment production several garments are cut at the same time by stacking the fabric in layers and cutting through them with something that looks like a jigsaw or a laser cutter (you can see this process here - scroll down). The more layers there are and the more quickly the person operating the cutter is trying to work then the more the layers on the bottom will shift, and result in different measurements even though the pieces are being cut to make the same style in the same size. Making more consistent sizes therefore requires more time and care and costs more, but maybe that investment will start to seem worthwhile if it builds customer loyalty and reduces returns from online orders.

Online reviews also often focus on quality and fit in a way that hopefully leads to more customers being aware of the things that affect quality and demanding more. Body shapes are diverse, but in most cases, better fitting garments require more seams and more complicated pieces. The result is again that they require more time, skill and cost to produce and these things are simply, as Patagonia describes, hard to achieve when buying products made in factories with awful conditions.

I'm sure awful people will continue to find ways to avoid local labour laws (when those even exist), mistreat people horrifically and ignore safety concerns in ways that lead to avoidable deaths. But I am cautiously hopeful that by continuing to demand both clear and transparent ethical standards from the companies that we shop from and developing and interest in the fit and quality of the clothes we buy that change is possible. And the more people we can get interested in craft, in quality, in styling clothing in ways that remain fresh and interesting, the better. But let's try to do it by sharing our enthusiasm for these things, rather than shame. 

I took a break from writing this post to help Sarah fit the dress she's working on.

I don't really have any answers, and these issues often make me want to hide under the bed, but I think it's a really important discussion to have and I'd love to know what you're thinking and doing. My friend Miriam has been doing some very inspirational sewing recently, I'm particularly impressed that she's sewing boring basics, and also blogged about her own journey today. We've been chatting about this stuff for a while, but our rants about 'real food' were completely coincidental.

I spent March focusing on teaching my online class on sweater fitting, which was a rather fascinating experience in many ways. Right at the beginning I asked my students to share their motivation for signing up for the class. Many of them mentioned the weight of unfinished or unwearable sweaters that they weren't wearing but couldn't bring themselves to rip out.

'Just do it,' I responded. 'Get it over with, it will feel so much better.'

I know that at least some of them followed my advice, but this weekend I finally decided to do so myself. There are so many feelings tied up in old works in progress and somehow, tucking something away in a drawer can put off accepting failure, delay the admission that we wasted all of that time on something that didn't work out. But the trade off seems to be guilt: those projects become a chore, something we ought to go back to and fix or finish.

There are so many things to feel guilty about, to procrastinate on finishing, to second guess our decisions on. Knitting is one of the few things where you really can destroy everything and start over, without really breaking anything in the end. Try doing that with work, or a relationship.

Of course, there's the erasure of all of that time you invested, that you can't get back. I am absolutely not a process knitter, much as I loved and identified with Franklin's box of swatches that are 'just swatches'. (Go read that, he's funnier than I am). Without the motivation of the finished product I would probably just knit garter stitch to keep my hands busy in 'listen and sit still situations'. However, I think those of us who do care deeply about the finished object can learn something valuable from process knitters about the benefits of letting go of the product. Did you enjoy that time spent knitting? Did you learn a new technique? Why didn't it work out? If it was a mismatch between yarn and pattern, what do you think would be a better use for the yarn? Did the style or fit of the garment fail to flatter? What would be better? And once again, did you enjoy the time you spent knitting? If you did, then it wasn't a waste of time, since this is something that you do for fun. Anything you learned is a bonus.

Knitting has become a part of my job, and I often have to focus and make a project work out on a tight deadline. But I still knit for pleasure, and knit projects that are somewhat in between work and play as I try out ideas that might become future designs. Trying to strike a balance between knitting for fun and for work 

Oddly, if I'm actively working on a project for a deadline I'm much more accepting of the need to rip back. It's an integral part of the process. It's not that ripping out the same yoke for the seventh time due to a silly error isn't frustrating, but if it needs to be ripped out I'll do it without a second thought. Cursing like a sailor is important, it helps you to get the stitches back on the needles correctly. 

Projects that are more explorative, that I'm working on for fun, tend to get sidelined by deadline projects, which means that if something doesn't work out I tend to just set it aside. I wear very few of the samples of my designs, keeping them in good condition for events and photography. However, things I knit in my free time don't have that distance and I'm more likely to fantasize about wearing them. Somehow, the combination of that fantasising and the fact that these projects tend to pile up when they don't work out, makes it harder to rip them out.

But I dug everything out, and using the simple rule 'am I excited about fixing or finishing this and wearing it', ripped out almost everything.

Since I moved the studio out of my flat, I've been slowly trying to regain my home. It's taken much longer than I would have liked but things are starting to seem organised. Unfinished sweaters don't really take up any more space than yarn, but it somehow feels tidier. Being able to see what I have is and important part of my creative process, I'm often inspired by a yarn's texture or colour, but I also struggle with finding visual clutter totally overwhelming. At the studio I have files of shade cards, and drawers full of sample skeins that are easy to pull open and look down on. The stash I keep at home isn't necessarily 'not for work', almost everything I knit has potential to be a design, but it's mainly yarn from smaller producers that I've purchased while travelling. I love these yarns, and I find them inspiring, but having them out on display feels too cluttered and too much like my work is always present. Let's not even talk about the moth problem in my Victorian building.

To get the kinks out I skeined the unravelled yarn with a niddy noddy, hung the skeins up and sprayed them with water. 

Fresh skeins are more appealing than unfinished sweaters. 

That's where all of my needles were!

Years behind everyone else, I finally realised the value of entering stash into Ravelry. I don't know when I'll next have time to open this box, but now I'll be able to find what I'm looking for without creating a giant, overwhelming mess. For now, there are a fair few projects that survived the weekend to be getting on with and I'm excited about all of them. That's better.

Organised and all tucked away. Waiting.

I'm rather excited that this Saturday I'll be at Edinburgh's first yarn festival. If you're local I hope to see you there! Even if you're not you might be interested in this little interview I did with the organisers. It's a video so grab some knitting :)

I rarely have time to knit anything for myself that isn't a design sample, let alone knit gifts. But when my brother first saw the Narwhal mittens from Whimsical Little Knits 3 he put in a request. He got the yarn for Christmas 2011, one mitten to try on for Christmas 2012, two mittens but only one and a half linings for his birthday last week and finally today two blocked, lined mittens. 

Struan got all of the height genes in our family, he's almost a foot taller than me, so not surprisingly his hands are much bigger than the sizes in the pattern. To scale them up I used Quince and Co and Lark (instead of the Chickadee in the original version) in Cypress and Honey. Of course, I didn't write down the gauge, or ever measure it, but I used a 4mm needle and good old fashioned trial and error to make them fit.

He has skinny wrists (like mine - looks like we are related after all!) and was concerned about them being snug so I did a folded hem in 1x1 rib instead of the picot hem. To avoid them being overly bulky I stuck with a fingering weight for the linings.

He's an art student and tested out whether he could sketch with mittens on, doesn't seem to cause a problem. His website is struanteague.com if you'd like to see some of his work.