Let's Knit!

While I was a student at Keio, I was a member of the Athletic Association Golf Team. I was so dedicated that I even became a representative for the Japan-US intercollegiate matches, but after much hesitation, I joined Nihon Vogue, which my predecessor had started, two years after graduation. Since I came from a sports background, I was naturally completely clueless about knitting at first. I was very bewildered in a company full of women, but since then, I have gained experience and have been blessed with encounters with knitting teachers to get to where I am today.

The peak of knitting was in 1961 when the Japan Knitting Culture Association was established, and the number of members reached about 100,000. Handicrafts were also booming at the time, and the Japan Handicraft Instructors' Association was formed in 1969.

In 2015, these were integrated to become the Japan Handicraft Instructors' Association (now a public interest incorporated foundation). At that time, the knitting teachers told me, "Knitting is not a craft; it is a clothing culture." Indeed, even if you just say 'knitting,' there are many incredible techniques. I truly felt that everyone aiming to become an instructor takes pride in honing their skills.

What kind of activities does the association do?

We created a certification system based on the hand-knitting Academic Advisory Board system. We opened schools with basic, advanced, and instructor courses. It progresses through instructor, associate master, and master levels, and it takes about five years to complete all the courses. It's a world unlike any other handmade craft.

The 1960s and 70s were a "knitting boom," weren't they? What was the excitement like back then?

I wouldn't go so far as to call it a status symbol, but being able to knit was an important point for personal appeal. Our company published many collections of knitting works, and they all sold very well. There were many types and manufacturers of yarn, too.

1967 was an epoch-making year in the post-war knitting boom. From that year onwards, knitting classes became incredibly popular. As the number of working people gradually increased, they could no longer attend classes. So, when we started correspondence education for knitting in 1967, it became a huge hit in '68 and '69.

It was a system where people would mail in what they knitted at home, and a teacher would correct it and send it back. The total number of students reached one million.

One million students is an incredible amount of passion. Works must have been sent from all over Japan.

That's right. There were so many that the Koishikawa Post Office at the time told us to please stop. The number of employees also jumped by about 80 all at once.

Every year, we use the Nihon Vogue building to hold a yarn market for knitting enthusiasts called "Itoma." About 2,000 people visit over two days, and the energy is incredible. About 30 booths sell unique yarns and such, and we can't fit all the customers in unless we make it by reservation only.

Is that what's happening!

I also served as the MC for the live stream at the venue and witnessed the strong bond of the knitting community firsthand. Moreover, by streaming the live event on the internet, this excitement has begun to reach young people. The age group participating in the event has changed significantly, and people in their 30s and 40s who have started catching onto the information are coming.

This community feels different from other handmade crafts. It seems that knitting fans can spend the whole day together even if they remain silent (laughs).

I understand that very well.

Even if it's not as big as it used to be, I feel that a knitting boom is visiting us again. Hana-san, do you ever feel the excitement?

Looking at social media, lately there's a lot of excitement around how easily, cheaply, and cutely you can knit items. Yarn from 100-yen shops is so popular that it apparently sells out. For things like making small pouches, it seems more people are watching videos and trying it out rather than studying from books.

That's the exact opposite of the old days when it was something you learned in a classroom.

Previously, hand-knitted items were featured as slow fashion on an evening news program. At that time, I vaguely felt that "maybe a knitting boom is coming."

What made you start knitting, Hana-san?

It was the influence of my grandmother, who was good at knitting. During my student days when I wanted to be fashionable but had no money, I started getting into knitting garments, thinking, "I can just knit the designs I like myself!"

That's basically the same as during the boom in the 1970s.

When I started, the knits by knit designer Mariko Mikuni were very popular. I thought, "I can knit something this stylish," and I knitted while looking at Ms. Mikuni's books.

The knit you're wearing is lovely with the embroidery.

I knitted in traditional Palestinian embroidery motifs from my father's homeland. Since this embroidery is cross-stitch, it's easy to reproduce even in knitting.

I run a small-scale online salon, and one of the participating members is a man named Yuki Fujita, who developed an app called "Knitting Counter."

I've used "Knitting Counter" too!

This app is used by tapping after knitting one row, allowing you to record numbers you might otherwise forget as a memo, but it actually counts how many times it has been tapped worldwide. Of course, it's limited to people using the app, but it allows us to estimate how much knitting is being done globally. Since last August, the number of taps per month has reportedly reached five times what it was before. In other words, five times as much knitting is being done.

That much!

After that, one might expect the number of taps to drop during the warmer seasons, but that degree doesn't seem to change. Both the number of installs and active users are maintaining the same five-fold increase, so even though these are figures observed from a single app, I think we can already call it a boom.

In the world of knitting, various books are published regardless of the season. I also published "Kimawashi Knit" (Versatile Knits) in 2022.

How did you come to publish a book?

I made ZINEs through self-publishing in 2018 and 2019. I had friends act as models and photographers for items I designed and knitted myself, and I also drew the knitting charts. Looking back now, there are some mistakes, but when they were finished, I sent them to publishers and yarn manufacturers. I even sent one to Nihon Vogue.

Is that so!?

After that, it caught the eye of an editor at another publisher, and that's how it came to be published.

I also made a knitting ZINE before. When there was a specialty yarn shop called Keito operated by Nihon Vogue in Asakusabashi, a staff member who saw it asked me to be a workshop instructor.

In 2020, a book called "The Power of Knitting" was released. A Japanese version has also been released with the title "Amu koto wa chikara."

It's a book that views knitting as an expression of a social movement, and it became a big topic. I was surprised that a knitting book was published by Iwanami Shoten, rather than a handicraft specialty publisher like Nihon Vogue, and became a topic of conversation involving other fields as well.

Do you also knit, Seto-san?

No, I'm like the dyer who wears white trousers. Although I did study a little when I joined the company, thinking it would be bad if I didn't know anything.

Who taught you back then?

The employees. Everyone was like a teacher. They even taught me how to use a knitting machine.

I've never touched a knitting machine.

I had been touching them since before I could remember. In home knitting machine techniques, there's an operation called "tappi-gaeshi" where you turn a purl stitch into a knit stitch, and it seems I used to play by doing that when I was little.

What do you mean by "it seems"?

Because I was at an age before I could remember. When I started knitting, I was somehow used to handling yarn and needles, so when I asked my mother, she said, "That's because you used to do it when you were little" (laughs).

Until around 1960, a knitting machine was one of the items in a bridal trousseau. One million units were sold annually. There was once enough demand that even Toyota made knitting machines.

Knitting machines were also lined up in knitting classes.

Can you do things with a machine that you can't do with hand-knitting?

There are advantages, such as being able to knit faster than by hand, but I think there are pros and cons. Knitting machines have their own culture, and I've heard that people who could use the machines honed their skills in that particular field.

The reason knitting culture spread so rapidly in post-war Japan was probably because there was an awareness of making one's own clothes amidst a shortage of goods. That's likely why knitting machines became explosively popular. However, home machines have constraints, such as only being able to knit in flat pieces. So, I see it as hand-knitting becoming more popular as a hobby because it's more free.

Is the qualification you have, Yokoyama-san, the "Hand-knitting Master" from the Japan Handicraft Instructors' Association?

No, my qualification is "Professional."

No, my qualification is "Professional."

Do you feel differently when knitting with a machine versus hand-knitting?

I haven't touched a knitting machine since I grew up, but it seems they are different. In the early 1990s when I was a high school student, knitting machine courses in classes had become scarce, but it seems the number of people doing it is increasing a bit again now.

Hand-knitting may have remained because there was a part of the knitting process that served as a source of emotional support.

It's probably one of the effects of what is recently called "digital detox." Speaking of emotional support, the teachers from our knitting classes visited areas affected by the Great Hanshin-Awaji Earthquake and the Great East Japan Earthquake to hold knitting classes. Many disaster victims participated and told us, "I'm glad I had knitting. If I didn't, my heart would have broken."

I think knitting has that aspect to it. It might be true for handcrafts in general, but when you focus on knitting, you can forget about the unpleasant things in your daily life.

I agree completely.

My mother was one of the people who started a project to travel around the areas affected by the Great East Japan Earthquake as a knitting instructor.

Immediately after the earthquake, many teachers went as volunteers, but over the course of about five years, the numbers dwindled, and it seems my mother was the only one left doing the activity she started. That's when she contacted me, and the two of us, parent and child, ended up visiting temporary housing and schools in Minamisoma City. We spent a week traveling around various places, and when it was time to return to Tokyo, a person who was a community leader there told my mother, "Right after the earthquake, I thought, 'Why do knitting at a time like this...?' but it was a huge help."

Actually, although I knew about the "power to heal the heart" that knitting possesses, I was skeptical about how much it would resonate until I heard those words. It was such a terrible disaster, such terrible damage. But hearing a survivor say that from the bottom of their heart at that time, I was shocked: "The 'power of knitting' can reach people even in a situation like this!" Since then, I decided to seriously commit to spreading knitting culture.

I once went to Canada to meet the Cowichan people, who are famous for Cowichan sweaters. Cowichan sweaters are open-front, aren't they?

There is a specific shape that comes to mind when you think of a Cowichan sweater.

When they make an open-front cardigan, they first knit a pullover (the type you pull over your head) and then cut the front with scissors.

I've never tried cutting a knit, but British Fair Isle sweaters are the same, aren't they? I've heard that sometimes they knit in a tube and then cut the sleeves.

That's right. Using scissors is logical in a way, but it's absolutely unthinkable in Japan (laughs).

When you study traditional sweater construction, it mostly boils down to joining three "tubes"—the torso and two arms. Knitting is probably almost the only way to create a fabric in a tubular shape from the start. Woven fabrics are all flat, but knitting can be made as a ring, a tube, from the beginning. Based on that shape, you could say knitting is specialized for "wrapping."

Socks are the same way.

In 2002, when I was a graduate student, I published a book through the Japan Knitting Culture Association called "Traditional Knits: The Mysterious Things Within 'Handmade Items'." In this book, I researched and wrote various stories related to five types of traditional knitting—Guernsey, Aran, Cowichan, Lopi, and Fair Isle. Like Cowichan sweaters, most traditional sweaters are knitted in the round, which is a contrast to how traditional Japanese clothing (Wafuku) is made entirely with flat cutting.

Our company houses various vintage knits, but it's said that for Aran knits, which are rooted in the Aran Islands of Ireland, there are almost no people left who can knit them now.

It seems the number of knitters has decreased significantly.

Knitting used to be called a "cottage industry." It means an industry operated on a small scale, like in a cottage.

Traditional knits like Aran knits were made as a form of domestic industry, weren't they?

Yes. Aran knits are also known as fisherman's sweaters, and the patterns knitted into them carry various meanings. The knits I saw on Guernsey and Jersey also had crests representing family lineages. I heard that if a wearer was lost at sea and died, their origin could be identified by those patterns.

There probably was that aspect to it. However, I wonder if we should take it all at face value. Because if you knit something yourself, you can recognize it just by looking at it.

Some people say, "It's a story added for marketing strategy." I don't think we need to look at everything that way, so I just keep it in mind as "that might have happened too."

True, you can recognize your own knitting.

Well, maybe so. In the past, they were strictly cold-weather gear. They used oily, water-repellent yarn, and the fashion element wasn't as strong as it is now.

Speaking of authentic fisherman's sweaters, they are heavy and stiff. A characteristic is that as they get sprayed with seawater, the texture becomes closer and closer to felt.

It's cool how they get tougher the more you use them.

They've fallen out of favor as fashion because they're too heavy and tiring for everyday wear, though.

If you actually try wearing one, you'll understand the greatness of felt. Felt coats are mainly worn by ethnic minorities in Mongolia and Siberia, and it's said that even in extreme cold, if you lay down a mouton rug and wear a felt coat, you won't freeze to death while sleeping.

What's surprising is that despite having such high heat retention, they are comfortable. I was allowed to try one on in June, and because the fabric was so thick, I initially declined, but I was told, "If you're into knitting, you absolutely must wear this." And when I actually put it on, it didn't feel unpleasant at all.

Wool felt, right? I'd like to try wearing that too.

Speaking of hand-knitting, it was very popular in Japan in the 1970s and 80s. After that, around 1990, apparel manufacturers saw that and began producing hand-knit sweaters in China, making them available at low prices. What was unfortunate was that the value of hand-knitting changed completely from that point on.

I was working hard in sales in the 80s, and at that time, the yarn for a single garment cost 10,000 yen. This was an era when a salaryman's starting salary was less than 100,000 yen. Even so, everyone bought yarn and knitted for themselves.

However, from the 90s onward, ready-made Chinese products became available for about 1,980 yen per garment, and the value of hand-knitting plummeted. Before that, the popularity of yarn was incredible. We also imported Cowichan yarn and sold it for over 10,000 yen per pack, and the 5,000 packs we bought in Canada sold out in no time.

Buying yarn and knitting it yourself is fundamentally different in purpose from the period shortly after the war when people knitted because it was a necessity for living.

Yes, it's completely the world of hobbies. That's why there were many works with wonderful designs, and elaborate construction became the added value. In an era before 100-yen shops, yarn cost at least 300 yen per ball, and high-quality ones were around 1,200 yen. We also handled cashmere and alpaca yarn.

It was an era when people who thought "I want to wear something like this" made it themselves. Nowadays, you can easily buy cable-knit sweaters like Aran knits in stores if you're not picky about quality, but back then, they weren't something you could get easily.

That's right. Precisely because it was that kind of era, knitting books from that time feature many works with wonderful designs.

When I flip through old knitting books, I can really feel how the design was the added value. I feel the passion of the people who spent money on yarn to create something from scratch.

In the 1980s, I visited almost every European yarn manufacturer for sourcing. Unfortunately, most of them are gone now, but I saw various yarns in France, Switzerland, Italy, and the UK. The textures differed by country and region, but because they dyed using hard water over there, the yarn colors tended to bleed easily when washed.

Now, the situation in Europe has become strict due to SDGs legislation. They even look at the environment in which the sheep are raised. Manufacturers and ranches that cannot maintain an environment above a certain standard face penalties, so it seems tough for both.

Hana-san, what do you find enjoyable about knitting?

Recently, I've been immersed in creating knitting charts and written patterns. For "Kimawashi Knit," a professional drew them up based on my notes, but I started because I wanted to be able to spread my own designs along with the instructions myself.

I love the time spent knitting so much that I can get lost even in simple stockinette stitch, and I used to be bad at making charts, but now that I've taken it on seriously, I'm finding it quite fun. I'm also trying the top-down method, which is popular overseas, where you start knitting from the shoulders and neck.

In the bottom-up method, you have to do shoulder seaming (knitting the back and front pieces together at the shoulder), but I've realized that with top-down, while there's no seaming work, the shoulder design becomes crucial.

That's very true.

Changing the knitting method significantly changes the atmosphere of the finished piece. Top-down is difficult until you get used to it, but there's an interest in trying things you don't know.

By the way, in Japan we call it a "sweater," but the term used overseas is "pullover," isn't it? The word "sweater" exists, but knitting people mostly use "pullover." Hana-san, you spent some time in France; how was it there?

In France, it's "pull." They don't call it a "sweater."

That's interesting. The name "pullover" has a nuance of stretching and shrinking, so it describes knitting itself very well.

The name represents the action.

When I looked it up, a theory came up that "sweater" originated from American football players using them to sweat and lose weight, but I wonder if that's true...

Eh, that changes the image a bit (laughs).

It seems "sweatshirt" similarly originates from clothing for exercising and sweating. But that's the English-speaking term; as Hana-san says, the name for a sweater in France is "pull." This "pull" is short for pullover, so I wonder if pullover came first. I feel like the French term might have started being used earlier.

Did knitting originate in the UK?

Tracing back the origins, it seems to be Egypt. However, it seems difficult to confirm whether the techniques of that time are directly connected to the modern day.

Knitting books remain popular today, but during the hand-knitting boom of the 1970s and 80s, many style books were published. Overseas brands also put effort into hand-knitting yarn, and even Yves Saint Laurent brand yarn was sold.

It's hard to imagine now, but such an era existed.

Yarn manufacturers also actively promoted fashionable styles through publications as a strategy to sell their products. We also worked hard to come up with designs that met the needs of those manufacturers and created books.

Are all the works featured in the style books hand-knitted?

Until the 80s, when knitting machines were popular, many collections of machine-knitted works were also published. There's an interesting anecdote from that time. A very popular knit designer, Rieko Togawa, appeared on a Hong Kong TV show, and two days later, several people were seen walking around town wearing the same knit she had been wearing. They must have liked what Ms. Togawa was wearing and knitted it themselves after watching the show.

You mean they knitted it in two days? That's incredible speed.

They probably copy it by eye.

People from the generation who were my mother's teachers could apparently grasp everything, like the sense of size, just by a quick glance. It's surprising because they say many people could knit without even taking measurements. It sounds like a tall tale, but apparently there were people who achieved precision in knitting techniques down to the millimeter.

The argument that "knitting is not a handicraft" is likely based on the high level of skill involved.

For those who say that, they might view it as a "craft." There was a time when you couldn't enter a restaurant wearing knitwear, and my grandmother's generation said they made many knit suits to raise the social status of knitting.

(Looking at the paper) There were stockinette stitch shoulder pads. They are very cute, but did they also knit things to be tucked inside jackets?

That's right. Making suits out of knitwear was also a trend.

You'd be surprised if you saw group photos from old meetings of the Japan Knitting Culture Association. Everyone is pictured in knit suits in hotel banquet halls.

That's wonderful!

Teachers in the past used to look very sharp in knits. Nowadays, you don't see knit suits much at all.

True. My impression is that I've seen them in old books. I think things like Chanel-style tweed are lovely.

Previously, during the COVID-19 pandemic, a movie called "The School of Housewives" became a hot topic. It's a documentary about a housekeeping school in Iceland where, for example, making strawberry jam starts with going to pick the ingredients. Of course, you can also learn handicrafts.

What I found interesting was that the Icelandic Minister for the Environment at the time of filming was a graduate of this school. He appears in the film and says in an interview, "My grandmother and mother both did handicrafts at home, so I love this kind of thing," and at the end, he says something like, "Everyone says various difficult things (about social issues), but the SDGs are right here." I was struck by the fact that a politician would have such a perspective.

Maybe Nihon Vogue should try starting a school like that.

I would love for you to do it. Knitting is one of the elements that makes up a life.

You're right. Let's hold a screening.

Actually, I am currently serializing a novel set in Japan with the theme of "living." In the world of Zen, manual labor is considered training and is called "Samu." I am writing about this Samu every month in the Soto Zen monthly magazine "Zen no Tomo" under the title "Ritsu's Way of Tea."

Samu refers to things like cleaning or preparing meals during training, but that's basically what living is, isn't it? In the story, I am calling for us to once again do for ourselves the things we let go of due to modernization, including knitting.

That's unique. So that's why the clothes worn during Samu are called "Samue."

Exactly. Monks also have the task of sewing their surplices (kesa), which is also a form of Samu. Handicrafts are a part of life.

I see.

It is said that monks may have been the originators of patchwork. People who entered the priesthood sewed together unnecessary scraps of cloth to make surplices called "Funzoue." Knitting is certainly booming online now, but on the other hand, it is also a real thing related to living. I want young people who have taken the trouble to start knitting to be interested in both.

Even with the knitting boom, there are still people who give up. For those people, I recently republished a book called "First Steps: I Can Knit!" which was originally published in 2013. I also made it so that you can watch video content via a code at the end of the book.

That's very supportive. Some people who are knitting for the first time feel the hurdle is high, so it's appreciated.

That's true. Some people say knitting garments seems difficult. That might be why it's popular to start knitting simple things with yarn from 100-yen shops.

Knitting has the advantage that even if you make a mistake, you can easily unravel it.

But for a complete beginner, I'm sure even making the first cast-on isn't easy. Movements are awkward at first, aren't they?

That can't be helped (laughs).

With a little practice, your body movements become smoother. I think that's the first hurdle.

When you boil it down, knitting is nothing more than pulling yarn through a loop of yarn.

Exactly. It's just variations of how you pull it through.

What should beginners start knitting? I once held a workshop for beginners to knit mushroom-shaped charms, but that's not very common (laughs).

How about a smartphone case?

A knit hat?

Hasn't a scarf always been popular?

I used to have them knitted for me often when I was a student (laughs).

I also think the first step shouldn't be something specific. In the past, there were teachers who taught with the feeling of just playing with yarn. However, those methods weren't adopted into the certification system.

Without systematization, it wasn't possible to create a curriculum for instructors. While that has helped expand the reach of knitting, there are people who don't fit into this system.

Since knitting is just passing yarn through a loop and pulling, I think it's fine to have instruction where people just do that for an hour. Teachers of my grandmother's generation had their own self-taught ways of knitting. When you actually try knitting that way, it's sometimes easier than the method you were taught. I think either is fine, but I believe some techniques are lost through systematization.

By being taught a "correct method," people end up assuming everything else is a mistake, right?

Exactly. But there is no single right answer. To put it simply, as long as you can knit it, it's fine.

It's difficult. When you have people gather in a classroom to teach, things don't progress unless you decide "this is the correct way to knit."

Before COVID, I used to hold ongoing workshops with the theme of "freely knitting mushroom-shaped works." It was a gathering of over a dozen people, from beginners to veterans and even master teachers, but many voices would say, "Teacher, it's hard to be told to knit freely."

However, I would just say, "It's okay because if you pull yarn through a loop, it becomes knitting! What you're doing now is the right answer," and I made sure they really knitted freely. Then, even the master teachers and veterans said, "It's been a long time since knitting was this fun," and they were delighted. And that wasn't just once or twice.

That's wonderful.

While the creation of rules helped knitting spread and allowed everyone to knit high-level items, the sense of excitement might have decreased. I want to spread knitting along with that sense of fun.

Things you can do with a "just do it" attitude when starting self-taught might feel like there's no other way once you're taught properly in a classroom.

On the other hand, I think young people who start from videos are more free. It might be more suited to the times for everyone to find things online that make them think, "This might work. I want to try making it."

But what should people who started from videos without knowing the basics do if they want to make something more elaborate?

That bridge is missing.

This is a conservative opinion, but in that case, I think it's better to study the basics in a classroom. Even if you're self-taught, the basics are important, so I don't think you'll get better unless you master them. It would be a shame if you hit a wall halfway through and ended up thinking, "I guess this is it," wouldn't it?

That's true. By the way, in the US, there is a bridge between the real world and online. There are communities where knitting enthusiasts can gather locally, and online, everyone exchanges information on a site called "Ravelry." That coordination seems to be working well.

I want to contribute to those areas as well. While enjoying entertainment like "Knitting Samurai," I want the distance between people who are close to the real world and those close to the online world to naturally decrease. I would be happy if we could create a situation where it's easier for people who have never tried it to start knitting.

I'm the type who started because there was something I intensely wanted to knit from the beginning. I had an impulse like, "It would be so cute if I could make a sweater like this, I absolutely want to knit it," and although it took a long time, I was able to knit it. Similarly, I believe there must be people who will work hard to knit if they feel they want to make something. There's the "this might work" entry point, but there's also the "it looks hard but I absolutely want to do it" entry point, so I'd love for people to give it a try if they find a design they like.

(Recorded on October 16, 2025, at Nihon Vogue)

*Affiliations and titles are as of the time of publication.