Close-knit in Columbus: Men’s-only night loosens gender barrier

COLUMBUS (AP) — Dan Sikorski’s fingers moved deftly, his knitting needles clicking away as a colorful striped scarf took shape.

Soon, though, a beer run beckoned.

By the time the 45-year-old Columbus resident returned with paper-bagged libations, others had arrived at Wonder Knit — an upscale yarn store in the Clintonville neighborhood — and were engrossed in their own projects.

Shop owner Libby Bruce and colleague Karida Collins hopped among guests, helping newcomers improve on a basic stitch or gushing over the intricate works of regulars. As some patrons reached for pumpkin ale and poured pinot grigio, the scene inside the cozy shop resembled that of any hip crafting circle.

Yet one element was as stark as a dropped stitch: All the knitters were male.

The store, which opened in December, hosts a men’s-only knitting night on the third Thursday of the month.

Chromosome count aside, the gender flip-flop changes little.

“There’s more swearing, but everything else is the same,” said the 28-year-old Bruce, who with Collins recently wrote “Pints & Purls: Portable Projects for the Social Knitter” (North Light, $17.99) — a book whose off-kilter patterns include wine-bottle “sweaters” and beer cozies.

“I think the guys appreciate that this exists. They just want to make stuff.”

Although the free gathering doesn’t offer how-to instructions, that hasn’t hindered a monthly turnout ranging as high as 15 men (Wonder Knit offers paid classes for a variety of skill levels).

The clientele — a mix of college students and older guys both gay and straight — is an indication that the practice among men is “becoming more and more visible,” said Juan Castro, a research assistant who learned to knit from Bruce when both were undergraduates at Ohio State University.

“There are a lot of do-it-yourselfer types out there.”

Yet Castro, 30, who suggested the idea for a men’s knitting group here after noticing one while living in Portland, Ore., knows that such handiwork — unlike, say, carving or metalworking — doesn’t hold the same masculine cachet.

Nor has it always garnered tactful comments from employees at other local yarn shops when he shops for supplies.

“They’re just in shock and awe that I know how to knit,” said Castro, taking a break from his latest project, a cardigan. “I feel awkward. It’s funny — but kind of annoying after a while.”

The landscape hasn’t always been that way.

Knitting, according to historians, was once mainly men’s work. Thought to have originated among Arab merchants, whose goods spread to Europe, the craft later became popular among fishermen, who created intricate cable-knit sweaters at sea. Chinese men learned the practice from defeated anti-Communist soldiers interned in China after the Russian civil war.

Brits of all ages and both genders knitted squares that were fashioned into scarves and blankets for soldiers during World War II. Even the earliest knitting guilds, which originated in Paris in the early 1500s, were open only to men.

Although machines of the Industrial Revolution stole the needles from most guys’ hands, turning once-necessary work into more of a women’s social hobby, a modern resurgence is afoot.

“The social boundaries of what men and women do have broken down significantly,” said Michael del Vecchio, author of Knitting With Balls: A Hands-On Guide to Knitting for the Modern Man. “The craft industry is looking to serve men. It’s reaching a critical mass.”

A flood of male-centric books (The Knitting Man(ual); The Crochet Dude’s Designs for Guys; Man Crafts) has hit the market in recent years. Other men’s knitting groups have sprung up in cities from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C.

Male knitters such as Jared Flood have amassed thousands of followers via Ravelry.com, an online knitting community with more than 400,000 users.