Fuji Yoga Socks

Once the last three stitches of the Damask shawl were knit together and the yarn cut away from the ball, I was left with 70g of beautiful Cherry Tree Hill Supersock yarn with which to play, from my initial 200g. I absolutely love this yarn, it is easily my favourite yarn ever. So springy and vibrant (too vibrant, in fact, for my camera. I just cannot capture this amazing turquoise colour for love nor money), but unfortunately too spendy for my pocket, so I’m going to make sure to make the absolute most of the 200g I was so kindly given.

So, though there is not enough for a full length pair of socks, I thought I would give the Fuji Socks, pictured on the front of my new Knitted Socks East and West book a go. I was hesitant about using this yarn for socks (though it is manufactured as a sock yarn) simply because it is perhaps too luxurious for my feet. But then why shouldn’t my feet be pampered once in a while?

Fuji Socks are, appropriately, all about pampering. Designed to be toe-less for pedicure treatments, they are the ultimate treat sock. However, I think I might modify them to be yoga socks, rather than pedicure socks, I haven’t quite decided. Yoga socks are both heel-less and toe-less, so that those parts of the feet come into contact with the floor/mat when worn. Being in direct contact with the floor gives your bare feet better grip and balance. And I could still wear them when painting my toenails pretty colours.

I’m quite enjoying the little bit of the pattern that I have knit so far. The cuff threw up a little surprise in that the sharply defined columns of twisted rib are interrupted by four small blossoms, made with little wrapped yarn over stitches.

I have one, tiny, tiny irritation about the socks. The blossom motif is 7 stitches wide, and the main pattern of the sock is 16 stitches across. The odd number of stitches used for the small cuff motif and the even number of stitches used for the main panel of stitches (which runs down the top of the foot with the rest of the sock in stockinette stitch), means that the two patterns always line up to be half a stitch off-centre. It almost certainly won’t be noticeable when the socks are complete, but that tiny, nagging voice of the perfectionist keeps on giving a knowing chuckle every time I think of it.