Local Yarn Stores Archives ⋆ Knitting with Anita

Confessions of a Yarn Store Walk-Out (and the Lies We Tell Ourselves Along the Way) There is a special kind of optimism that comes with saying the words, “I only need needles.” It’s the same optimism that convinces us a “quick knit” will be done in a weekend or that we will absolutely remember where we put those stitch markers later. We say it confidently, casually, and with no sense of impending doom. And then we walk into the yarn store. This is not a personal failing. This is a shared experience. A rite of passage. A universal truth of knitting life. The Innocent Plan (That Never Stands a Chance) The plan is always simple. You’ve already rehearsed it in your head. “I just need size 6 circulars.”“I’m not buying yarn.”“I have plenty at home.” You even park close to the door, as if that will limit exposure. You don’t grab a basket because, obviously, you are not shopping. You are retrieving a single, practical tool. A tool with a job to do. Then it happens. You glance left. There’s a display of new arrivals. You glance right. There’s a sample knit in a stitch pattern you suddenly must learn immediately. Somewhere behind you, a shelf of hand-dyed skeins quietly clears its throat. "Hello. I'm Malabrigo. Won't you take me home with you? You need me!" At this point, the plan is technically still alive. It’s just… weakened. Just Looking Is Not a Binding Agreement Every knitter knows that “just looking” is a legally meaningless phrase. It does not bind you to anything. It does not protect you from purchase. It simply opens the door. You touch the yarn. That was your first mistake. Now you’re comparing colors. You’re imagining projects. You’re telling yourself things like, “This would make a great gift,” or “I don’t have anything exactly like this,” which is true in the narrowest and most suspicious sense. You notice a sign that says “New This Week” and somehow feel personally invited. You pick up a skein to admire the color, then another “just to compare,” and suddenly you are holding enough yarn to outfit a small alpaca. Still, you remain calm. After all, you’re only holding it. The Math That Makes It Okay This is where knitters truly shine. The internal math begins. “Well, if I don’t buy it now, I’ll have to come back.”“I’ll save gas if I get it today.”“This yarn was practically made for me.”“It was on sale… or close enough to a sale.” You might even do the math per hour of enjoyment. Yarn, when divided by the number of hours it will entertain you, is actually very economical. This is not denial. This is accounting. At the counter, you add needles to the pile like proof of original intent. See? Needles. That was the reason. Everything else just happened around the needles. The Walk to the Car (Also Known as the Aftermath) Leaving the store feels like success mixed with mild confusion. Your bag is heavier than expected. You replay the transaction in your head, already planning where this yarn will live when you get home. You consider whether anyone will ask what you bought. You decide on a vague answer like, “Just a few things,” which is both accurate and deeply misleading. Back in the car, you experience a brief moment of clarity. You didn’t mean to buy yarn. You didn’t need it. You swear this will not happen again. You start the engine and immediately forget that promise because you’re thinking about what pattern would be perfect for that gorgeous blue skein of Malabrigo Rios yarn, which is one of the softest yarns ever created by man. (The softest is Qiviut, from the underbelly of the musk ox. At over $100 per skein. Someday!) Why We Keep Doing It (And Always Will) Here’s the truth. Yarn stores are not just stores. They’re creative spaces. They’re places where ideas spark, projects are born, and knitters feel understood. Walking out with more than needles isn’t failure. It’s participation. Every skein tells a story. Some become sweaters. Some become gifts. Some sit patiently in the stash, waiting for the exact right moment. All of them represent possibility. So yes, you only went in for needles. And yes, you walked out with yarn. That’s not a problem. That’s knitting. And let’s be honest. You’ll do it again.