Why don't I wear this??

A small existential sadness about the unworn knits in my closet—and the unworn knits in YOUR closet—and an idea of what we can do about them.

In 2020, in the early-ish days of the pandemic, I rehomed almost my entire wardrobe. (I’ve written more about that here and here.)

I rehomed it in the most expedient way, which was to offer a few specific pieces to specific people, to sell the slow fashion pieces via @selltradeslowfashion, but the majority of clothing? I donated it to my local charity shop in the hopes that someone might come along who would treasure handmade sweaters made from premium wool or pairs of jeans with lots of good life still in them.

I often wonder if what I did was my own version of wish-cycling—where you pass something along or put it in the recycling bin in the hopes that it can be recycled, but without really knowing.

Most donated clothing ends up either in a landfill or being pressed into bales and shipped to the Global South, where it’s polluting beaches and landscapes.

What I did was expedient for me, but where did everything end up and who did I unintentionally harm?

Flash forward to one of our conversations in this newsletter’s comments section.

One of you, dear readers, asked me for ideas on how to more sustainably rehome knitted or crocheted items. That question has been with me for some time, and I recently posed the question on my Instagram, too. The idea most people mentioned was to find someone knitworthy to gift the item to.

But what if the circle of people you know is fairly small?

What if you don’t have a knitting group?

What if you don’t know who your item might fit, or if it’s their style?

And how do you manage the work of querying person after person, when we are all already managing so much in this world that commodifies our attention and where structural supports are lacking?

It occurs to me that community is the answer here, just as community care is the answer to so many other questions in life.

Having a community of like-minded folks can help buoy our spirits by knowing we aren’t alone. We can care for each other, while advocating for structural support. We can lend mutual aid, while still working to unravel the myth of individualism that’s so prevalent in the U.S. (and worldwide). We don’t have to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. We can connect and support and care for one another, and it doesn’t have to always be in big ways. The small ways matter, too.

It seems like many of us have sweaters and shawls and beautiful handmade items that aren’t being worn, don’t fit, or we’ve outgrown the style, and they could be rehomed to someone who would wear and love and treasure it. And those two people might actually be right here, right now.

One of the sweaters in my current “why don’t I wear this” pile. (The answer is: I have narrow shoulders relative to my bust and body size, and so the neckline is slippy. As beautiful as this Lunenberg cardigan is, I just don’t reach for it.)

I’m considering creating a “knitworthy exchange” for us, and I’d love to know if you’d find it useful.

The basic idea is this:

• You would go through your closet and photograph all the great items that you don’t wear or that don’t fit.

• You would then fill out a simple form about what you have (dimensions, materials, etc.) and send it to me along with the pic.

• I put everything in a private section of my website.

• You, dear readers, then “shop” those items, pay for postage, and I pass along “buyer” information. (In other words, I make a match.)

• You’d put the item in a USPS-provided soft flat rate envelope, print out a prepaid postage label that I’d email to you, and take it to the post office.

• You have one less unworn handmade item. Someone else has one more handmade item to wear.

You are knitworthy.

You probably also have knits that aren’t being worn enough.

Everyone deserves to wear and use more handknit items.

I’m still working out the economics and practicalities of an exchange like this, but I’m thinking it would happen about twice a year, and it would be a perk of being a paid subscriber to this newsletter community. (You could totally subscribe just for a month to participate, making it a low-cost $5 to be assured that your handmade items are going to someone who will wear and treasure them, not to a landfill or worse.)

What do you think?

I absolutely love problem-solving, and I love hosting.

The thought of helping and growing my circle—you and everyone reading this newsletter—makes me so delighted.

Whether it’s something like this sweater exchange, or an election-week specific community care series, well, this feels like a beautiful intersection of something I’m good at and like to do, with what my community could use.

More to come.

With that, I’d love to introduce you to a now-regular feature: a reader spotlight!

Reader spotlight: Please meet …

A. Wilder Westgate, 30, at Writing Wilder on Substack and @TheWilderKnits on Instagram.

📍 Binghamton, New York

🧶 Primarily knitting, but I've recently gotten very into crochet as well.

🗒️ Currently working on: A knitted striped baby tee, a brioche shawl, and a crocheted dress for my 5-year-old.

📖 Favorite book: Living Resistance: An Indigenous Vision for Seeking Wholeness Every Day by Kaitlin Curtice.

🎥 Favorite movie: The Family Stone

🌧️ A hard time that knitting carried you through: I learned to knit while recovering from autistic burnout and dealing with regular chronic illness flares. Having a creative focus not only gave me something to look forward to, it also helped me recover by reminding me to slow down, and by buoying my mental health.

☀️ A joyful time knitting carried you through: I started a craft club with friends at my local library, and I've met a few wonderful people and had so many joy-filled conversations about knitting and yarn and life.

✨ Excited about: I'm participating in a Poem a Day in May led by Kaitlin Curtice, and writing in the company of other poets who are all so compassionate and encouraging is such an invigorating experience.

I feel really tender and grateful for my renewed capacity for work right now, and know that life sometimes starts life-ing in ways that can stretch capacities, so nothing is certain.

Where-ever you are in this continuum of stretch, sadness, loss, renewal, refilling, or resting, I am rooting for you.

May we all feel a community of support around us, even if that is just a community of one.