When I got back into knitting about five years ago, I knew very little about it. I had learned to knit as a child but didn’t bother anymore after I was about 12 years old. There are only so many Dr Who scarves a girl can start and never finish.
So my level of knowledge was very basic and my choice of yarns, needles and patterns reflected this.
I made the usual mistakes with yarn – too bright, too synthetic, too cheap. Cheap was important, because it seemed that the cheap yarns were the most fun with their bobbles and crazy texture. I didn’t know that bobbles and crazy texture – along with the usual high content of acrylic, would result in a messier and more difficult experience than a nice, simple, pure wool, 8ply would give me.
The mistakes I made with needles were also driven by the cheap factor, and I ended up with a lot of 35cm, painted grey, aluminium straights.
Yuck.
I like to think that every type of needle has its place, but I don’t have a place for these in my needle roll anymore.
Speaking of needle rolls, check out the patchwork needle roll my “living-in-sin-with-her-son” Mother in Law made for me for my birthday.
But back to my needle story.
After my adventures with nasty needles and cheap, synthetic yarn, I discovered bamboo. Not just any bamboo, but cheap bamboo – needles that cost about $3 a pair from Lincraft.
They were a lot better than the cold, grey, aluminium numbers, but being cheap they were a little rough. I still use bamboo needles sometimes, but they are nice ones by Tulip or Clover, with smooth polished tips and good balance.
I moved onto KnitPro wooden, and then nickel needles – both of which I love. KnitPro (Knit Picks in the US) have nice sharp tips which can be missing in so many other brands. I use the nickel DPNs and the interchangeable tips for circular needles a lot.
But my favourite needles are no longer made – they are the “tortoiseshell needles” that I remember my mother using.
Tortoiseshell needles were very popular and common in Australia from the 1950’s – 1970’s but seemed to disappear around the 1980’s.
I’ve seen a lot of online discussion about whether “tortoiseshell needles” are actually made out of tortoise shells. While there were needles made this way, the ones I’m talking about are not – but they are still referred to as tortoiseshell because they are coloured to replicate the real thing. The real tortoiseshell needs were popular in the 1900’s but with the advent of plastics in the early and mid 20th century, their popularity waned.
My tortoiseshell needles are made from casein which is a milk protein that is hardened with formaldehyde. If you have some of these in your needle roll and want to see if they are the real thing or are casein like mine, taste them. The synthetic ones have a plasticy, chemical taste.
Another test you can perform is to heat a sewing needle over a flame until it’s red-hot and then burn a part of the needle. If its made out of real tortoiseshell it will smell a like burning hair or bones, if it’s casein it will have a chemical, plastic smell.
The reason I love these needles is because they are soft to knit with. That sounds a bit weird, but I’ll try to explain. They are much more flexible than bamboo, very smooth and slick and when you knit with them there is no brittle “click-clack” sound. When the needles come together, it’s like knitting with nickel without the noise.
Anyway, as they are no longer made, I’ve had to track them down by means other than my LYS.
eBay is a good source of tortoiseshell needle as are fellow knitters of a certain vintage. I received some from my mother for Christmas last year (along with a few thousand metres of gorgeous laceweight cashmere), and I think she got them from a Red Cross street stall.
For my birthday this year, my “living-in-sin-with-her-son” Mother in Law made me the needle roll pictured above, and filled it with her old needles. I’m knitting a jumper for her son’s 40th birthday using the needles she made his baby clothes on.
How is that for history?
