Attempting to knit a sweater
I’ve been quietly working away on something that feels like a small milestone in my knitting life: my first proper sweater. Or, more accurately, my second attempt at my first sweater. The yarn I’m using for all these experiments — the pink and purple marble yarn from Home Bargains — has been the perfect companion for this stage of learning. Low‑stakes, cheerful, forgiving, but also very soft and wearable. Exactly what you want when you’re figuring things out for the first time.
Attempt One: the YouTube sweater
My very first try was a YouTube tutorial. The creator did a lovely job, but their body shape was very different from mine, and without a written pattern or proper sizing, I was guessing more than knitting. I’ve never knitted a sweater before, so I need numbers. Stitch counts. Measurements. A bit of hand‑holding.
“Knit 10 inches” is fine — I can do that — but for everything else, I need clear instructions. Eventually, I admitted what I already knew: this wasn’t the right first sweater for me.
Frogging with intention
Frogging that first attempt didn’t feel like failure, I'd rather use the yarn for something I love. I realised I needed a pattern that would guide me properly, not leave me improvising my way into a garment that may or may not fit me.
So I unravelled it, took a deep breath, and started again — this time with a plan.
Starting the Movement Sweater (the “practice” version)
I wound up the yarn and I used it to cast on the Movement Sweater by Lily Kate France.
And honestly, it was such a good choice. I'd already learned how to fold the collar and separate for the sleeves on the first attempt. This pattern has taught me how to do German short rows as well, another really useful skill.
When a project becomes a sample
But somewhere between the sleeve separation and the endless body rounds, I realised I wasn’t excited about knitting this version anymore. Not dramatically — just that quiet shift where your hands slow down and your mind drifts toward other yarn. My brain is like that, I get bored quite easily. And some nice yarn was calling to me. Loudly.
The more I knitted, the more obvious it became that this version had already done its job. It had taught me the pattern, the techniques, the rhythm. It didn’t need to be finished. It didn’t need to be blocked or worn. It just needed to exist long enough for me to learn from it.
And if I’m honest, I suspect I made it too big anyway. The Movement Sweater is meant to have lots of positive ease and my gauge swatch was right, but I think it's going to come out a bit too big for my preference.
Once I admitted that, the pressure lifted. It wasn’t a sweater anymore. It was a sample. Like a brass band rehearsal before a contest. And I can still go back and pick it up when I want to practice working the hem and the sleeves.
Graduating to the “proper” sweater
So I cast on the real version — the one in the yarn I actually want to wear. The nicer yarn. The yarn that feels like a reward for doing the groundwork.
And the best part? My German short rows are almost invisible this time. I really paid attention to how my stitches were mounted on the needles, and it made such a difference. One of those tiny technical wins that makes you think, oh, I actually know what I’m doing now.
The sample sweater did exactly what it needed to do. Now I get to enjoy watching the real one take shape.
Looking ahead...
I’ll share more once I’ve made a bit more progress — hopefully with a photo of me trying it on and confirming that it does, in fact, fit me. I'm hoping for a sense of accomplishment and a new garment that I can wear to work. Wish me luck!