I Accidentally Felted My Magic of Scrap Cardigan

In the summer of 2024, I returned to an old fiber friend, wool, and introduced a new natural fiber – alpaca. When I began knitting in the early 2010s, I bounced between wool and acrylic fibers, not really looking at fiber content and instead looking at the pretty colors and my stitches so I didn’t drop one. Oh, how times have changed! When you love something you begin to obsess, dig, and it becomes a fiber woven into your identity. That’s where I found myself as a knitter for 10 years. I am constantly thinking about fiber content when planning a new project because it’s more than just the make that matters; it is how the garment is worn and washed for many years to come.

Wool

I think we have deep scent memories just like how wool fiber remembers the shape it is blocked into with water and pins. The scent of wool is woven deep into my memories of traveling to Ireland as a child in 2001. It is the fiber my Grandma wore most of the year. She was always cold, even in summer. Wool has always seemed a bit scratchy to me. It triggers my neurodivergent aversion to certain sensations. It was not a fiber I would choose to wear a whole sweater out of, although small accessories I could handle. Coats were fine too, until they weren’t.

After my grandparents passed away, within 6 months of each other I suddenly had things they used to own. Clothing being one of those things, a lot of those clothing items contained wool. I couldn’t stand the fiber being near me. I’d get a head, a migraine really. I’d feel stuffed up and allergic, at least I thought. From 2020-2024 I avoided the fiber. Begging my mom not to knit me anything in wool. I rounded up the wool items and put them in quarantine in a box in my house, the “allergy” being such a wave of anguish to my body. Looking back on it, I can see it was an expression of grief and stress. That smell of wool, it felt like a ghost lingering in the shadows of my mind not a normal fiber. Grief makes things so weird!

Acrylic

Under this belief of a wool allergy, I pivoted solely to cotton, bamboo, linen, and acrylic. If you are looking for a cheap and cheerful fiber acrylic is your yarn. It’s everywhere in the big box stores and that’s exactly what I did. I experimented with Red Heart, Big Twist, and Caron. They come in value packs and the worsted weight is an excellent fiber weight to use when learning how to create complicated garments such as wearables like sweaters that involve sleeves, shoulder shaping, and necklines. I’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way, it’s part of the learning process, yet using these affordable and easy-to-source yarn options took the trepidation out of the creating process.

Acrylic is seen as the “low-brow” yarn for a lot of the knitting community. It’s looked down upon for not being a natural fiber. Take organic and insert natural fiber and it is the same sort of elitism. But honestly, aside from how it’s made, acrylic being a polyester fiber, I don’t get the hate. It’s washable. These garments I was able to block in the dryer. As a knitter who was new to blocking this process taught me how and why blocking matters without the high stakes of felting, shrinking, or destroying my hard work during the wool sweater blocking process. It’s an approachable fiber for beginners.

Fiber Curiosity

Acrylic was my bread and butter, but after a while, we all crave some variety. For winter sweaters the other fibers – cotton, linen, and bamboo aren’t going to cut it. This is where some field trips came in! I’ve mentioned Keystone Safari before on the blog, it’s a wildlife preserve and education center in my region and they have sheep, alpacas, yaks, camels, and llamas. All of which I feed and pet without any allergies! This is where I began to question my “allergy” to wool. How could I spend time around these fibers, in their natural state where there would be more allergens like hay and not have a reaction (when I’m actually allergic to hay and grass)? It didn’t add up.

So in 2024, I began to run experiments. In the yarn shops, I’d pick up wool and alpaca-specific skeins and feel them in search of the truth! At my mom’s house, I’d ask her to see her skeins of wool and I’d do the same, even sticking them in my face, demanding they show me an allergic reaction. Nothing happened. Nothing. Could it be, that was I ready to find my true knitting form? A natural fiber artist, possibly a spinner, with a vast knowledge of wool, alpaca, mohair, and more? Yes, it was time.

Magic of Scrap Yarn Cardigan

So how does felting come into play in this story? It doesn’t sound like a story of woe, but it is. I was quite inexperienced with wool and how one cares for wool, that lack of experience came back to bite me with this lovely cardigan. I made this cardigan from wool extra skeins from my mom. Some of those skeins I put right up into my face to see if the wool would make me allergic. But this cardigan was not just a project of wool, it was a project made of extra wool skeins, wool-acrylic blend skeins, and acrylic skeins. Those fibers require different strategies to care for them properly.

This was my first mistake. I mixed fibers willy-nilly without thinking about each one has unique advantages and disadvantages. Wool is naturally anti-bacterial and requires very little cleaning. You can spot clean and refresh in the air or the snow. But you can’t throw it in the washer, and if you wash you must be gentle to the fibers with delicate movements and gentle water temperature, or else it will felt. Acrylic on the other hand is very durable. You can wash it in the washing machine without worrying about the possibility of felting the fiber. Acrylic fibers do not felt. It does not have anti-bacterial properties though so you clean it. Can you see where this is going? I screwed up the washing portion of this project.

I washed it in the washing machine without thinking and the cardigan shrank. Next, I tried to stretch the cardigan as it dried, while it was wet. Not gently, although the washer had already set the stage for stressed wool fibers. The cardigan no longer fit my person. To remedy this I thought I would hand wash delicately and attempt to re-block the cardigan. This was the nail in the coffin. This fatal mistake transformed the project from a knit cardigan to a felted mess. It was too far gone, like a burnt cooking disaster. There was no coming back from this, the damage was done.

I began to panic. How would I continue using wool and alpaca? I was currently knitting wool socks, um how was I going to wash those? Was I screwed? I was convinced I could never hand wash again without feeling sick to my stomach. I had to find a new solution. Steam. Steam was the answer. I have an iron, an iron with steam. Could I use this instead of purchasing a garment steamer? The answer amazingly was that simple! I steam my wool and alpaca projects now and the steam helps them bloom, they almost block from the steam along. It’s incredible. Just a little steam and the fibers refresh, safely! It’s transformed how I care for my knitwear. Sometimes these creative misfires lead us to places we may not have tried without the failure as a catalyst to try something new. I feel equipped to work with natural fibers, confident that if I spend months on a project I can care for said item for years to come. Have you tried streaming your wool garments before?

A Shy Girl Goes To The DMV

I’d say this photo, featured above accurately represents how I feel in situations like going to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) to renew my driver’s license. It’s a blur of moments, faces, government jargon, and touch screens. The big stack of papers signed and passed along in the process of closing on a house is more etched in my brain than the 20 minutes at my local DMV location. There is something about the dull, harsh lighting and bland walls covered in bulletins, electronic screens, and directions. It’s overstimulating and yet underwhelming. It is not a place I feel comfortable in.

This feeling began many years ago during the driver’s permit test process, in a different DMV, equally dull and filled with too many signs and screens. There was always one piece of information I was missing. A document my mom and I forgot, or a process out of order. The test was deceptively easy to study and terrifyingly tricky when taken, and I almost missed too many answers due to the sheer amount of distraction of the dull yet harsh environment.

This time, was one of those such times. Renewing in 2017 was easy, it was a new DMV with friendly people. Renewing in 2021 was an absolute breeze because there was no need to go in for the photo, just click and pay at home. It spoiled me. Renewing this time in 2025 was one of those DMV experiences fraught with tricky trip-ups.

Not surprising for me, it’s been a place I have been thwarted for years, from nervously failing the parallel park portion because I was afraid of my test proctor and his gruff demeanor or forgetting to keep my permit up-to-date and having to renew to test to wait four months for another testing time. The government process is nothing if not inefficient and a war of attrition.

The gauntlet was thrown down. Waiting for Christmas and New Year to pass, I renewed my license online and got stuck in a loop of changing my address. I then could not reach the process to renew anymore, because it was updating my address. So I mailed my renewal and waited. I then received two separate address updates for the license set to expire, but no update on my renewal.

Two weeks passed and I began to anxiously check the internet for a timeline – usually within 15 business days. Oh no, business days…I sent it in the mail on Jan 2, how many days would spend in the USPS system? Then a former president passed, delaying mail service. Was renewing it a month in advance not enough?! We then checked online, showing it had been renewed. Phew! But, when? I received another piece of mail, updating my voter registration automatically, but no temporary license or camera card.

Each day as the mail came, I ran to check it like Ralphie waiting for his Little Orphan Annie secret decoder pen. I began to worry, was my license going to expire waiting for it to show? Was it all going to unravel because of the sluggish pace of the government institution? How was I going to follow behind in my car when my husband’s car went for inspection in February? Was it back to walking for me?

Then one beautiful day I heard the mailbox close with a slam (it’s a very old cast iron mailbox), I scurried from my work room and descended the stairs with the promise of the future in my eyes. My delight was palpable as my hand pulled a DMV envelope from the mailbox. The envelope tore with ease, revealing the temporary license and camera card in my hands. All was saved!

On the next good weather weekend (it’s been a winter of snow squalls) we made our way to the DMV for the last battle left, the camera portion. Now as a shy person, this is the part that still makes me want to recoil. I never liked picture day at school. When a camera is pointed at me I can’t smile normally. I feel like a spotlight bears down upon me, filling me with dread. My smile looks unnatural, sometimes like a grimace if I smile with teeth. If I smile with a closed mouth like I did throughout my braces era, it looks uncomfortable, my shyness written across my face.

Filled with shyness, I sallied forth, pulling my ticket in preparation for a long wait. To my surprise, my number was called immediately and I had to go to a completely separate area, by myself. Something I dread in unfamiliar places. So in a flurry of adrenaline, I went into the photo room and unbeknownst to me went to the wrong side of the table to sit down. The DMV lady shouted at me, my face immediately turning red. Embarrassed and ashamed at my accident, my apologies flowed forth. She continued to scold me in front of the other citizens there to get their photo. It was incredibly awkward.

She was sweet to the other people and continued to speak to me with contempt, even though I continued to apologize for my mistake. I was flustered. Ripping my paperwork and not knowing where to go. Soon the others in front of me were served. It was my time to smile but to be honest, I was so embarrassed and concerned they were going to remove me as a security threat, I knew that wasn’t going to be possible.

Then the weirdest thing happened the lady switched from harsh to calm, saying she needed to yell at me for the camera on the ceiling or she would face consequences. (What? That’s bizarre.) It was tough to trust the nice demeanor, was she going to snap at me again if I made another mistake?

At that point, I was introvert drained from the drama, and wanted to hide. My posture could not hide my internal feelings as I sat down in front of the camera. Flash, the first picture snapped displaying a red-faced blank expression. She offered me a retake and snap, and a turtle-necked miserable-looking photo appeared on screen. I believe she offered me another retake but my mind was far away.

I continued to make mistakes, including selecting Arabic on my screen to fill out a few more things for completion. As she handed me my card, she apologized finally for scaring me, which I appreciated and I wished her a good day. I looked at my ID card and was horrified, the person doesn’t even look like me. The bottom half of the image is stretched out, compared to my photo from 2017 it looks like I aged and let myself go from how distorted the image is from what I saw on the screen.

It was the cherry bomb on top of the 2025 battle: DMV vs. Shy Girl.

I’ve tried to remind myself that what is important is that I did it, I didn’t cry when shouted at, and I didn’t give into my anxiety and bail. I did it and persevered, the bad picture happened but it doesn’t reflect what I actually look like and no one is really going to see it. But dang, what an awful experience! I think why the new picture feels like such a jump scare is it is all my fears wrapped up into one – aging and looking ugly and fat. My culture is obsessed with thinness and beauty. Plastic surgery is becoming normalized and it is sickening how vain we all are becoming. I forgot to do my hair, I didn’t wear foundation just a little eyeliner, and I forgot to gua sha.

The picture was just me and things out of my control like getting scolded, bad lighting, and a stretched image created something without beauty, because beauty is not the goal for the DMV, it is clinical and for the process of identification. It is a stark contrast to the world of filters, good lighting, and curated perfection fed to us in this current age. Seeing that ugly image, rocked my confidence because even though I find my worth in Christ, I still live in this fallen world that equates beauty and youth with virtue and worth. So what happens when life happens and time passes? We become older, we gain weight and no longer look like the size 2 self from our teen years?

Is everything past that point worthless? I realized, as I looked at the image of my expired license and the new one that having the same picture for two renewals, warped my view of how I am aging. The younger version also was far more curated as a coping mechanism. I used to be a stickler for straightening my hair, wearing makeup, jewelry, and food restriction to be in the beauty standard to blend in, like an outer shell. Protective, candy-coated.

But the younger version of myself would have been unable to cope with a stranger yelling at me without crying and shutting down. Any picture of myself I saw as ugly, I had no confidence even at my skinniest. All the things that have happened since 2017 – loss of loved ones, getting shunned by family members, reconnecting with my dad and his family only to get hurt again, losing my place to live, having nowhere to live, and crashing in people’s guest rooms for a few weeks, moving to Georgia and back, subsequent moves out of sketchy landlord situations, my first job, my first layoff in a global pandemic, etc.

It’s been a lot and through that process, I grew character and began to unmask. So what if I don’t look the same as I did in 2017? I thought I looked ugly and fat in my 2017 ID photo and was ashamed. It’s just a photo on a driver’s license card. I like the person God has shaped me to be more now in 2024, than the person who was lost and far from God in 2017. Cheers to growth!

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