You think you know these women.They're the ones who lug big bags full of yarn and long pointy needles, and plunk themselves down just about anywhere and start knitting.
It's hard to tell what they're working on, but you assume the bulky mass is the start of a blanket or a sweater or a pair of socks.
You might think how quaint.
You might think how boring.
But you would be wrong - very wrong - to make such judgements of a certain group of Missoula knitters who go by the name “Stitch N Bitch.”
Inspired by a book of the same name, this four-year-old group is an eclectic assemblage whose members found one another through classified ads and handbills posted by their ringleader, Shelli Martineau.
On occasion, the group includes a brave, rare man who knits - and is willing to wade into what has historically been the domain of women.
Stitch N Bitch has few rules. To belong, one must knit - or at least try to.
There are no fees, no initiation rites, no age limits.
Children have been known to attend, and new moms have learned that “knitting and breastfeeding - it can be done,” said Doria Keesling, a knitter and nurse practitioner.
How to belong? Just show up and get to work.
But be forewarned: This sassy, smart, feisty, sometimes bawdy and irreverent, always obsessed klatsch of knitters puts a whole new spin on the old-school hobby.
“We are more like a women's revolutionary sewing circle,” explained Mary Matthiae, a co-founder of the group who works in Missoula County Central Services.
As the needles fly and the women make room for stragglers at their bi-weekly knitting party - a gathering they cheekily refer to as their “support group for knitters” - they talk about everything there is to talk about.
“There is no editing of our conversation,” Matthiae said. “We are not a bunch of domestic little people sitting around staring at our needles. We talk. The topics are endless - sometimes it's about childbirth and kids, sometimes it's politics and movies, or sex and religion. Really, it's whatever is on people's minds and whatever comes up.”
Not so long ago a rather earthy conversation about the bare-chested men in the movie “300” - a story about the ancient Battle of Thermopylae - got the group booted from the cafe at Barnes and Noble.
“Chastised,” perhaps, is a better way of putting it, Martineau clarified.
“We didn't really get kicked out, but we decided that in the best interest of everyone, we better find a new place to meet,” she said.
They now meet from 7-10 p.m. every Wednesday night at the Good Food Store Cafe, and 2-6 p.m. Saturday afternoons at Liquid Planet.
“I guess people could hear what we were saying in the children's section,” confessed Erin Reagan, a knitter who is a busy mom, Missoula La Leche League leader and self-described “sock hussy,” who loves nothing more than the handiwork that produces good socks.
“It was never our intention to offend anyone, but it is easy - sometimes we get talking and get carried away. And, let me just say, the men in that movie? Hunky.”
“Last week, we had true confessions,” chimed in Peggy Luensmann, who is legendary for knitting while walking her dog or while getting her teeth cleaned at the dentist. “That was awesome.”
Riotous laughter erupted from the women to the bemusement of the cafe's other, non-knitting diners who unabashedly eavesdropped on the sometimes titillating conversation.
The standing knitting date attracts between 12 to 20 knitters who show up to work in the company of like-minded souls.
“I love the camaraderie, all the talk about yarn and patterns, and learning from each other all the different things you can make,” Keesling said. “It is a great group of people. We are all so different, but we all have the same love for knitting.”
On one recent Wednesday, they helped solve a seam issue in one knitter's cable sweater, admired the effort of beginning knitter's felted slippers and the super-stylish purse created by another knitter.With hands busy on their own individual projects, the women chatted at length about their favorite knitting books, some of which were highly utilitarian, such as “The Knitter's Handy Book of Patterns.”
But there were other intriguing books that were recommended, which for a time set their conversation atwitter: “Naughty Needles: Sexy, Saucy Knits for the Bedroom and Beyond,” “Knitting With Balls: A Hands-On Guide to Knitting for the Modern Man,” and “Yarn Harlot: The Secret Life of a Knitter” by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee.
“Knitting,” Luensmann pronounced mischievously, “accommodates a variety of lifestyles. It's not your grandmother's knitting anymore, although that's fine, too.”
All of the women agreed the “Yarn Harlot” was their favorite knitter-author, and the assent prompted a reading from the book, which one woman produced from the bottom of her knitting bag.
The “Harlot,” Martineau said, is pretty much a cult hero among the vast world of knitters and speaks to everyone from the grandmotherly types to knitting rebels - the ones who knit unusual garments such as the infamous purse whose name is a play on the word “satchel.”
The Yarn Harlot's broad appeal is simple to understand, Maritneau said: “She completely validates knitting.
“She writes about the life of a knitter in a really funny way. Like the problems of traveling with a hobby like knitting, where the tools are sharp and pointy and the security people stare at you like you are a terrorist when they find the needles, and you pray Homeland Security isn't going to confiscate your knitting products.
“For those of us who knit, we know it would be far more dangerous for security to confiscate our knitting products because there's nothing worse than a knitter without something to knit.”
The women nodded and smiled in agreement with Martineau's comments.
“It takes far more time to pack your knitting than your clothes if you are traveling anywhere,” Luensmann added. “You need to pack a variety of things so you don't get bored - or God forbid, you run out of things to work on.”
Knitting, the women said, is so much like an addiction that words borrowed from the drug world and other seedy enterprises have infiltrated the pasttime.
Thanks to the Internet, podcasts and Web sites such as “hookedonknitting.blogspot.com,” the words have spread far and wide, and knitters have developed their own distinctive slang.
There's “crack” yarn, which knitters finds so seductive they can't get enough of it. “Stash,” to describe a knitter's yarn supply. And then there's “sweater porn.”
“That's when you are watching TV or a movie and you see a sweater that is so gorgeous - or a hat or a scarf - that you have to pause the movie and call a friend who knits and replay the scene again and again,” Martineau explained.
“The movie ‘Mystery, Alaska' is a perfect example,” she said. “It's about hockey players and it stars Russell Crowe. Every freakin' sweater he wears is gorgeous. It's got the hottest, sexiest Aran sweaters I have ever seen.
“That's sweater porn - when you drool to touch it.”
In part because of celebrities like Julia Roberts, who has been spotted knitting, the hobby has become hip, the knitters said. Leading fashion magazines have dedicated a lot of ink and space to the popular trend. Even Vogue has gotten into the action by publishing a specialized knitting magazine and how-to books.
While the popularity is helping to produce more exciting patterns and beautiful yarns, it is not “the new yoga” as heralded by the media - at least not in her mind, Martineau said.
“For the longest time it was called that, because people - celebrities - said they would feel all peaceful and wonderful when they knitted,” she said.
“But I'm truly sick of hearing that, because knitting is not the new yoga. Knitting is about being who you are.
“Knitting needs an edge - it has an edge because it's about being creative and being an individual.”
As the knitters coaxed Luensmann to hold up the dog blanket she was knitting, a newcomer to town stopped by.
“Are you a knitting group? If I don't know how to knit, will you teach me?”
Came the reply from Susanne Davey, a lifelong former “closet knitter”: “Yep, we'll teach you. We are here every Wednesday.”
“That's how I started,” Erin Reagan said after the visitor left.
“I really thought I would never get it. It seemed so hard to manage two needles and some yarn and do nothing more than basic knit stitches.”
“Now I'm doing all kinds of things - these ladies taught me how,” she said. “They taught me how to stitch - and all other kinds
of things I didn't know before.”
Reach reporter Betsy Cohen at (406) 523-5253 or by e-mail at bcohen@missoulian.com. Reach photographer Linda Thompson at (406) 523-5270 or by e-mail at lthompson@missoulian.com.
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