The thing I didn’t expect from the Summer Knit and Crochet Show was the smell. Not the rank body odour of the Computer Show and Sale. This was wool, dyes, and momentarily-liberated women. I have heard people excusing their yarn-binges by blaming the yarn fumes, but I didn’t appreciate it until I walked up to a booth run by a sheep farm‘s reps. There it was, wool that looked like it remembered the sheep it came from, hanging in long, luscious loops and smelling clean and dyed but still animally.
“Oh well, who needs money for college anyway?”