Why We Buy Yarn
And why its ok
There’s a running joke in the fiber community about collecting SABLE: Stash Acquired Beyond Life Expectancy. It’s funny because it’s true. Most of us will never knit all the yarn we own. But here’s the thing, that’s not really the point.
People outside the fiber world look at our stashes and shake their heads. Too much yarn. “Don’t you already have enough?” But they’re missing what’s actually happening when we buy yarn. We’re not just buying fiber. We’re buying something else entirely.
We’re buying hope. Every skein in our stash is a possibility. Someday we’ll have more time. Someday we’ll learn brioche or colorwork or that technique we’ve been watching videos about. Someday we’ll find the absolute perfect project, the one that’s been living in our heads, waiting for exactly the right yarn to make it real. A stash is optimism in physical form. It’s planning for a future self who has space and time and skill we’re still building toward.
We’re collecting stories. That yarn from the shop you sought out while traveling, the one you drove out of your way to find because yarn shops become part of our destinations, not afterthoughts.
In 2008, I traveled to Istanbul with my mom. We wove through crowded streets where nobody spoke English (we didn’t speak Turkish either), but we found the yarn. The textile quarter was absolute magic. Then I looked to my right and through a doorway and gasped... bins and shelves from floor to ceiling. I walked in and gasped again. Three rooms like this. So much to see, to touch, to take in. Our knitting group had a term for moments like this…yarn porn…and it had just been elevated to a whole new level.
A lovely woman tried to help me. She spoke no English. I couldn’t even remember how to say thank you in Turkish. But we were knitters. We connected on a whole different level. We figured out cotton vs acrylic blends vs bamboo, played charades for yardage: a scarf, a hat, short sleeve vs. long sleeve sweaters. I wish I could remember all the different words she tried to teach me. But we were both laughing and smiling and having fun, and somehow it all worked.
Then my mom walked in and said, “I hate to tell you this, but every store in this place has more yarn in it.”
I nearly fell over. You mean there’s MORE?
I brought my purchases to the register and tried to explain to the two men there just how excited I was. They had figured it out after witnessing my interactions with the lovely woman, my enthusiasm was apparently amusing to them. They threw in an extra skein of one of my selections. And the total? About $47. Are you kidding me. It was better than a dream.
We made our way through another four stores. It was so hard to figure out what to buy, how much to get, what anything would become. So I abandoned all reasonable thought and went for it. Before I knew it, we both had more than we could carry.
My sister had joked before the trip, “please don’t trade mom for yarn.” But my mother knew me. She’d secretly packed a collapsible duffel in her suitcase because she knew I’d buy more yarn than I could fit in mine. Years later, now that my mom is gone, I still have those Istanbul yarn memories... and a sweater or two that I knit from them. That’s what we’re collecting when we buy yarn while traveling. Not just fiber. Memories…and connection…The people who know us well enough to bring an extra bag.
We collect creative possibilities and creative security. Painters collect brushes. Writers collect beautiful pens. As fiber artists, we collect yarn. When inspiration strikes, we can start right away. The stash isn’t a problem to solve, it’s a creative launchpad.
And we’re not just buying yarn. We’re buying visions. We’re buying the cozy evening curled up with needles and a project we love. We’re buying the finished garment we’ll wear to that special occasion. We’re buying the feeling of wrapping a handmade scarf around someone very special's neck. The yarn itself is just the beginning. What we’re really acquiring is possibility, memory, and the life we want to live.
So yes, most of us will never knit our entire stash. And that’s perfectly okay.
Inspired to start your next project?
Whether it's yarn from a shop down the road or one you found half a world away, I hope every skein you reach for carries a little story worth knitting.