Knitting, for some of us, is an addictive joy. That joy can make the path, the destination. Do you know anyone whom you cannot mentally picture without yarn and needles in her hands?
Me, for sure. And yet, joyful as is the doing, when the doing's done I want the having to be a lasting pleasure. For me, that means tactile satisfaction. And that means quality fiber.
And so I spin--and knit--with alpaca, merino, camel, bamboo, silk . . . I've even done cashmere and, yes, bison. Expensive, I know, but what's the value of life moments spent in the knitting?
Is that week of my life worth angora? Or only acrylic?
As clever as the synthetics have gotten, a faux is still not a fox. To the eyes, maybe, but not to the fingers.
My hairdresser understands this. He, being manly enough to knit, decided, when he was learning the basic k st, to do a garter stitch scarf in baby alpaca. Now there is someone who understands the value of his time.