Remember that great Bob Marley/Jimmy Cliff song? How did it go?
Mighty knitters of Babylon
Where we sat down
And there we wept
And did the tubular cast-on
Something like that, anyway. I cannot get this song out of my head since last Monday, when little Meli, Cara and I went day-tripping all the way to the Village of Babylon, Long Island, to finally spend some quality time at Other Ann’s super darling, ultra adorable, mega cozy yarn shop.
This shop is not, despite my sincere–and repeated– urging, called Mighty Knitters of Babylon. Even though I am sure this name would be a sure-fire magnet for every rasta knittah in a 100 mile radius. Sigh. You try to help people, you know?
The shop is in fact called The Village Knitter. Which I will admit is a good name. The Village Knitter is cute as a button and stuffed with yarn. There is also an excellent diner just steps away! The turkey burger with sweet potato fries was most excellent.
The revelation of the day, though, was the Clover Pom Pom maker machine. Imagine: a gadget that is as cute as a pom pom. Apart from cuteness, it is a marvel of engineering. You get a perfect sphere of yarn tufts, with no trimming. There are decades of science in this thing.
Would you buy a used pom-pom maker from this woman?
I got all 4 sizes. In case I should be struck with a sudden case of pom pom fever. You can’t do much with just one or two sizes of pom pom. Go big or stay home.
I also got a batch of the elusive Ty Dy yarn in the greeny blue colorway called Meadow, which does not look at all like Meadow Soprano (disappointingly). Olive chewed the labels off of all 4 skeins the minute I got home, and we had to rewind them to restore ball integrity. (The sign of a real good yarn: tastes like chicken.) I have wanted to make something with this yarn ever since I saw the Oat Couture curlicue blanket Other Ann made with it for Meli’s baby shower, way back when.
My favorite thing about any yarn shop is the shop samples. Interesting shop samples are a yarn store’s secret weapon. The shops that just have droopy, manhandled swatches, or only have the samples the yarn companies sent in 1988, lack a certain je ne sais quoi. Fear not: at The Village Knitter, the je ne sais quoi flows like wine. There is a whole rack of qu-est-ce que c’est, plus a baby dress in Isager wool that will cause you make a baby dress whether you need one or not. It’s a real public service to display a shop sample like this.
Friendly service at the cash register.
Next time you’re in town, we’ll crank up the bass on the stereo and head to Babylon so you can stir it up, little darling, and check it out.