I live in a place where I get next to no tv reception, bad radio reception on a cloudy day, dial-up internet and lousy cell phone signal. So in explaining that, it may make sense to you that when Carrie and I went to visit Lettuce Knit, the holy space where the Harlot hangs out, I forgot to bring my camera. Not that I could've brought my digi-cam mind you, cuz the software for that has gone missing and my wee laptop won't recognize it. No, I had a disposable camera that I meant to leave in my purse and forgot it at the hotel. Dhoa!
The real reason Carrie and I went to the big smoke of TO was to check out the Creative Festival, formally called (and I know I will get this wrong) the Creative Needlework and Sewing Festival, last weekend. I think I get why they changed it. Lots of crafty vendors in a big 'ol room, pushing and shoving and jostling for position lest the VERT BEST STUFF!!! get taken before they get to it. Holy cow people. It's just crafts. I think the damaged $2.00 magazine rack was the worst. Carrie actually staked her claim on her territory and vigilantly protected it until I got there to take over. I highly recommend going to such events in teams.
I did remember to take my camera to this event, but alas, did not take very many pictures. I was a-feared for my life if I stopped to snap a pic of something...I could've been run over by a horde of middle-aged women in quilted vests. They look docile from afar, but I tell you, they are vicious. Don't even get me started on the ones with fanny packs. They mean bid-ness, so you best be gettin' out da way.
But back to Lettuce Knit for a minute. It's in the heart of Kensington Market, a funky little neighbourhood near the fabled Queen St. in Toronto. And funnily enough, not far from my old stomping grounds. I was once a student of the colossas known as (enter big booming echo-y voice here) THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO. I believe it's Canada's largest university, and perhaps has the most mystique, as I am hesitant to say prestige. Having been through the experience, I don't know as any university deserves the moniker of prestige. To me, they are all just business'. But that's a rant for another time.
I hated, and I am using the word hated here with all the venom and bitterness and disgust and dislike that my being can muster, Toronto when I lived there. I thought I would love it, as I was a small town kid looking for the anonimity that only the largest city in Canada can provide. But turns out the opposite was true. I stuck it out for two years, then gave the big smoke the big 'ol finger and hightailed it outta there.
I will say that I don't feel that way anymore. I'm still a small town girl and will always be, and I don't ever see myself living in a city again (Windsor didn't count as a city...it's a factory town that got out of hand), but Toronto is, I will grudgingly admit, a cool place to visit. There is a lot going on in that stinky town. So much multi-culturalism, which I think is really cool, and certainly not something I am privy to here, thats for sure. People just totally being themselves, right there on the street. Groups of drag queens, lots of couples, same and mixed (both in sex and race) holding hands, having a good time just being out. Thai food restaraunts everywhere! Oh how I miss the Thai food. There is a good vibe going on there. I don't think I ever noticed that before. Toronto has had it's problems lately, but I certainly felt safe and secure while I was there. Accept for the crafters. Pre, post and peri-menepausal woman have moods that can turn on a dime and they'll be dammed if you're going to stand in their way of that bolt of Christmas themed fabric. Look the 'f' out.
My partner in crafty crime and I made our way to the holy shrine of yarn with much excitment and anticipation, which honestly, is not how I pictured myself ever feeling about a yarn shop when looking into my future as a youngster. This Harlot adoration may be getting out of hand. It's a small, unassuming place and when inside, I was transfixed, as I usually am by natural fibres, and began to fondle all the wares. Carrie and I both wanted so badly to ask if the Harlot would come out and play, but were appropriately embarassed enough to keep it to ourselves. All the while though, I know that both of us were using the Lettuce Knit location to attempt to triangulate the Harlots undisclosed location so that perhaps we could just walk by her place and in doing so, perhaps obtain some knitty wisdom or talent through osmosis. Good thing she was at Rhinbeck I think.
I'm fairly new to natural fibres as I've been honing my skills on bouncy acrylics for quite some time now. But I wanna step it up, take it to the next level as it were. I bought two balls of this lucious wool/cashmere blend in this yummy soft pink colour. I'm in the process of making delicate little gloves out of it, so that when I wear them I can feel the softness ALL THE TIME! I'm loving it. I could've walked out of that store having blown all my money, but I behaved myself. This was the day before the Festival after all. I had much more shopping to do.
So that was the Lettuce Knit experience. It was colourful and warm and I could've just sat on the floor and covered myself in yarn. There are no places like that around here; no funky young knitters coming in to spec out a project, no funky shop owner sitting at the front knitting away, no funky little cat sitting in a basket of yarn marked 30% off (true story). *sigh*. Maybe small towns aren't all they're cracked up to be either.
Now that I see this has turned into an essay, I'll get straight to the point. My grandmother always used to say 'Mend your fences', meaning take responsibilty when you're wrong, say you're sorry. So Toronto, I'm sorry. I still think you suck in a lot of ways, but you've got your good points too. Sorry I unfairly misgudged you before I had all the information. I wasn't a knitter then, so I didn't know about the knitty shops. That's helped change my opinion of you. But seriously, if I may ask, what's with the smell?
Until later...
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