Thoughts on an Election

Trigger warning: rape & sexual assault, racism, the 2016 election.

Dearest friends,

My heart is heavy.

These past days have been difficult and frightening for many people in the United States, myself included. Many people I follow on social media are calling for a wait-and-see attitude about our President-elect, but at this moment, I am not able to see past the murky ground below my feet.

This particular election has been brutal for so many, in depths that I cannot begin to imagine. For my own part, it has touched a raw nerve, in its flagrant dismissal and gaslighting of violence and sexual assault.

When I was 18, I was raped by my 25-year-old housemate, and the fallout of that experience came very close to ending my life. A few years after that, while traveling internationally, I was sexually assaulted for a period of 16 hours over two nights.

The first experience, I have written about here before. The second, I have only begun to speak about in the last year.

What I learned from the first experience was that my sexuality was a weapon that could be used against me. That one man's blind entitlement was more important than my voice, my body, and my identity. I lost the friendship of almost every person I knew, all because they believed - or were not willing to fight against the idea - that I had brought that violence upon myself, simply by existing in the world as a woman. That betrayal cut as deeply as the rape itself, and its scars linger on my heart even still; in these last days and months, these scars have ignited like kerosene.

What I learned from the second was to be quiet.

I cannot be quiet anymore.

We have chosen as President a man who has shown hate and bigotry to be his highest principles.

Who promises to hurt my LGBTQ, Latinx, Black, Muslim, Jewish, women, and disabled dear ones.

Who threatens to take away their citizenship, their bodily autonomy, their marriages, their safety.

 Who has allegedly and admittedly sexually assaulted women, women like me, women who have once again been forced to learn that the only way to stay alive is to stay quiet. And for so many of our citizens - people of color, trans* and queer folks in particular - devastatingly, even quiet has been stripped away as a refuge.

Enough.

I have already seen the powerful forces of compassion at work in the last days. Voices that are calling for change, for community, for coming together in solidarity with those who are hurt and struggling. I have never used social media so much in my life. I have never texted the word 'love' so much in my life. I have never felt so passionately that we have a duty to our fellow citizens to honor and protect each other, in whatever ways we can muster.

This is all that I can think to do: to name my fear and release it among kindred hearts, where it might molt and extend its dark wings into a new kind of hope.

What now?

I have decided to continue my usual posting in the coming days and weeks. It is a conscious choice on my part, to share the beauty and love in my life in response to all this uncertainty and fear. I understand that not everyone is able to make that choice, and I respect the very real anger and hurt and fear that people are feeling right now. We all process things in our own ways, and whatever that looks like is okay.

But oh, dear friends, American and beyond: please know that I love you, and I see you, and I am here with you, tonight and always.

Much love,
Cory Ellen

Pattern Release: Chiral

  

Happy news today, friends - the Chiral cowl is now available for download in my Ravelry store!

The idea for the design started as an experiment in symmetry, and turned into a bright, kicky piece of 3-D smooshiness when I knitted it up in Spincycle Yarns Knit Fast, Die Young, in the colorway Gold Digger. (Just in case I haven't mentioned it enough times, the badass ladies over at Spincycle have my color number on speed-dial!)

So whether you have 100 yards of super-bulky chilling in your stash, or you've been eyeing that Spincycle-y goodness, this pattern is a quick, fun way to play with color and shape.

Chiral is available for download for $4.00, or you can check out the details on Ravelry on the Chiral pattern page.

Big thanks to my test knitter Sara, who helped tweak the wording to make it a better pattern and took her Chiral on a fun field trip to Port Ludlow! I love it when my patterns are well-traveled. :D

Happy Wednesday, friends!

Cory

Nusalong: Knitting Deadline, and Giveaway Details!

Remember that tonight - Friday, May 6th, at 11:59 pm - is the deadline to finish knitting on your Nusas!

Then, post your WIP or FO to the Ravelry thread by 11:59 pm on Friday, May 13th, to enter to win the following prizes -

 

First Prize FO

Two skeins of Three Fates Yarns aquae singles, in your choice of colors, and a Three Fates project bag.

(All of Stephania's gorgeous repeatable colors can be viewed here. Pick your favorite two, and post them along with your FO photo to the Ravelry thread!)

You'll also win print & digital copies of my Pip hat, Lelia Mitts, and Salt Creek Loop patterns!

  

Second Prize FO

Digital copies of my Pip hat, Lelia Mitts, and Salt Creek Loop patterns!

   

   

Runner-Up WIP

Didn't quite finish? That's okay! Anyone who posts their WIP in the FO thread will be entered to win a digital copy of a pattern of their choice in my Ravelry shop.

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Thanks again for participating, everybody - can't wait to see all your beautiful FOs, and I'll be sure to post when I finish mine. :D

Happy Friday, friends!
<3
Cory

Goodbye, My Heart Rat

Early this morning, curled up with me in a nest of blankets on the couch, my buddy Squish passed away. For over two years, he's been my guy - my reluctant cuddlebug, my delightful misanthrope - and it felt right that I should be with him at the very end.

I'll miss him terribly.

  

RIP Monsieur Wayne 'Squishy'

Spring 2013 - April 5th, 2016

NYFA Graduation: Or, Three Little Birds Leave the Nest

Three and a half years ago, I walked into New York Fashion Academy with ambition and a pair of Fluevogs; Sunday afternoon, I walked out with a different pair of Fluevogs and a certification as a Master of Fashion Design & Construction.

And I did it with two of my favorite fashion people in the world: Melody (left) and Marisa (center). We met when we were working on our collections for the 2013 NYFA fashion show. Over those three and a half months, we worked countless 12-hour days, and had spontaneous dance parties, and ate a monumental amount of pizza. We stabbed ourselves with pins, and went on trips out for thread and falafel, and cried on the floor of the workroom when things got rough. It was one of the hardest experiences of my life, and it was made so much better because of the friendship, compassion, and support of these two amazing women.

Since then, our friendship has only grown. Both of them were in my wedding; all three of us have done photoshoots together; Blake and I have lived with Melody for the last two years. I love Marisa for her badass attitude, tenacity, and kindness; I love Melody for her fearlessness, integrity, and curiosity. I'm so thankful to have them in my life.

 

And on Sunday - after two fashion shows, three ballgowns, three tailored jackets, and thousands of hours of hard work - we all dressed up and Went To Tea. More specifically, we went to high tea at the Queen Mary tea room with Terry, the director of NYFA, where we received framed certificates of completion and enjoyed our official graduation ceremony together.

There were dozens of types of tea to choose from, and tiny sandwiches with no crusts, and multicolored sugar crystals to put in our tea. We dressed up in the most cupcake-y clothes we owned, and chatted with the owner about our work, and drank from rose-painted cups with our pinkies raised. It was just about the fanciest thing I've ever done, and it was the perfect way to celebrate - especially with Terry, who has been an incredible resource and mentor throughout my tenure at NYFA.

I'm so proud of the three of us. I'm proud of how different and strong we all are as people, and how we have grown and thrived throughout this experience, and how we were able to commit to and complete this challenge on our own terms. Together.

And I can't wait to see what we all do next.

Happy Wednesday, friends.
<3
Cory

FO: Plum Judy

  

I've knit quite a few Swallowtail Shawls over the years. The first, I knit in three or four days while studying abroad in Japan - I still think of the echoey beige halls of the university every time I see it - and the second and third, I knit in quick succession the summer after I graduated from Oberlin. It's such a fun and pretty little pattern, I could knit it a dozen more times and be happy!

This Swallowtail, unlike the other two, was never destined to be mine. A while back, a few of my friend Sooz's shawls were tragically and hopelessly damaged, and I knew she was pretty bummed about it - and Sooz being a dear friend, a beautiful knitter herself, and and immensely knitworthy gift recipient, my knitterly wheels started turning.

So I chose this beautiful Pagewood Farms fingering weight from my stash, in a color that I had seen Sooz wear before (and that looks smashing on her), and bang - a few days into January, and I had a brand new Swallowtail! I finally got the shawl blocked and photographed last weekend, and this week, we grabbed dinner, and I gave her her new shawl. She sent me pictures after she got home that night, and it looks great on her!

For as much as I proclaim to be a selfish knitter, I get such happiness from sharing the wooly things I make. There's nothing quite like seeing a garment that you had this close relationship with as you made it, warming a person that you care about. In their own ways, knitted things become objects of connection and love - and I think that's why giving away my knits is sometimes even better than keeping them to my selfish self.

Details on Ravelry here.

The Clara Gown

Every holiday season when I was little, my mom took my brother and me to see Pacific Northwest Ballet's production of The Nutcracker. We'd dress up - me in a pink polka-dotted dress, my brother in slacks and a polo - and drive to the city lit up with Christmas lights. I remember watching the dancers float across the stage from our high-up seats - Clara in her fluttery nightgown, the Nutcracker prince in his red suit, the company in their long tutus and pointe shoes - completely enthralled. 

Then, at intermission, I'd sit in women's powder room at the opera house, the air dark except for the soft yellow glow of the globe lights lining the vanity mirrors. In that moment, feeling the pinch and swish of my pretty dress, waiting to change into the footed pajamas my mom brought, I felt a parallel of things: safety and warmth, the reassuring weight of my fleece pajamas in my hands; and beyond it, another, more darkly lit room, whose features I could not yet see - but whose very existence was electric.

It was the first time I recognized a threshold between the world I knew and the world that is; the first time that I saw beauty and darkness coexisting. That experience has become a touchstone of my identity, and one that has had a huge influence on my work - and on my ballgown in particular.

So when the final runway photos of Clara were released just a few days ago, it seemed very appropriate that I should write my final thoughts about her this time of year.

Well, first off, in August I submitted her for adjudication.

And she passed!

I got to hang out and chat with all my friends & family afterwards, and share the work that had been such an immense time commitment and physical, technical, and emotional challenge. It was very weird to be in the same position that I had seen as the pinnacle of achievement for my entire career at school - this project that I had seen so many respected senior students grow and flourish from - and realize that I had reached it.

Just a few weeks later, in September, I walked the runway at our annual NYFA fashion show. This year, we featured 25 years (!!) of original ballgown designs. I think it really shows how diverse each designer's vision and aesthetic truly is. 

When I look back at this experience almost six months later, I am still totally overwhelmed and proud. Ballgown was a turning point, not only in my design work, but also in my personal life: I emerged from that workroom a more confident, dedicated, and curious person, and I think it continues to expand my boundaries of ambition and creative energy.

And on the other side - even though the process itself was lonely at times, the warmth and support of community I felt by sharing my work on this blog was incredible.

Blogging ballgown was completely unplanned. I didn't expect to have the time or mental energy to write about the experience in any sort of meaningful way, so it was more than a little surprising that blogging became an integral part of my creative process during ballgown. It was incredibly gratifying and humbling at the same time.

So thank you again, to everyone who has reached out to me - then or now - to share an experience, or tell me that you enjoy the blog, or just to say hi. It meant (and means) a great deal to me.

As a last note on community, I also wanted to mention and thank Bret Doss, the photographer who kindly gave me permission to use his beautiful photos for this post (and several others). He doesn't just have a sharp eye and talent for color & composition - he's also fun, and kind, and an all-around wonderful human being. He's contributed his talents to NYFA shows and projects for years, and if I thanked him a kabillion times for all that he does for us, it would never be enough.

Overall, I am so grateful for this experience, and I am so grateful for you. I look forward to the new challenges and experiences that the New Year will bring - and to sharing it with you all.

Happy holidays, and happy Friday.

Much love,

Cory

Finished Object, in the Nick of Time: A Blankie for Hayden

  

Sunday around 5 pm, my brother- and sister-in-law welcomed our nephew, baby Hayden, into the world. I was up until after midnight on Saturday knitting furiously, and finally finished the blanket around 10:30 am on Sunday morning - just in time to give it a quick bath and a tumble through the dryer before heading to the hospital.

 We knew that he was arriving a little sooner than expect, so as I worked on the blankie this weekend, I settled into a happy rhythm, thinking of this tiny little person with every stitch: how he is in this tender liminal space of being; how our world is made a little more new and hopeful by his entry into it; how that joy changes our hearts in the strangest and most sudden of ways.

So I knitted, and I slept, and I woke Sunday morning thinking, baby. And I knitted, and I knitted, and my arm cramped up, and then I bound off all my stitches and soaked the blanket in warm water and woolwash, and still I thought baby. And then I waited for the call and nervous-cleaned - scrubbed my bathroom sink and loaded the dishwasher and vacuumed under the oven - and thought, baby.

And then it happened. We got the call, and we drove to the hospital, and we waited - not very long - and then we were meeting him for the first time, and it just struck me over and over like so many waves. I have no idea what color his eyes will be, or what he looks like when he laughs, or if he likes green beans, and yet I'm standing here awkwardly clutching a knitted blanket that I made for him while I imagined all the feelings I didn't yet feel for him, and he's whuffling softly in his sleep, and I am absolutely dumb - struck and adrift and in awe.

Here are his mother and father suddenly ageless in their limbs, this new weight of love in their eyes. Here are my parents-in-law, holding the baby of their baby and seeing each future fall into place ahead of us. Here is my husband standing quietly holding my hand, both of our hearts silently overfilling with the thought of someday.

But most of all, here is baby Hayden, who gnaws the knuckles of his right hand and creases his eyes a little deeper in sleep. And it is perfectly, wonderfully, enough.

Happy Monday, friends.

Love,

Cory

Madrona 2014

  

Two weeks ago, I had the good fortune of participating in Madrona Fiber Arts down in Tacoma, Washington. This was my first time attending the market both as a vendor and as a patron, and it was a really wonderful and affirming experience. For four days, I was surrounded by yarn, gorgeous knits in the wild, and passionate weavers, spinners, crocheters, and knitters. I got to see Catherine Lowe's stunning couture finishing in person, chat with excited knitters about their favorite colorways of Madelinetosh, and squish lots and lots of yarn. I got some amazing books, a few yarns that are on my knitting bucket list (Toots LeBlanc and qiviut, to be exact!) and some yarn that just sang to me (3 skeins of Sincere Sheep Equity Fingering for a shawl design that is brewing in my noggin). It left me with a sense of belonging and excitement about this community that I love so much.

It also reminded me of something important as I navigate through the murky territory of wellness. I was in the Toots LeBlanc booth looking at samples, and the vendor showed me the difference between a scarf that had been knit and blocked only a few weeks before, and one that had been traveling with the booth as a sample for seven years. The newer scarf was crisp and pretty, but it also felt slightly brittle behind a light halo of softness; the old scarf, on the other hand, was fulled and strong from handling, and as soft as a rabbit's belly. It reminded me that the beginnings of things are so often the most difficult, when that fragility is right beneath an exterior of calm; that strength will come with time. And that's okay.

<3

Cory