Knitting and Nattering

"I wanted to try new things," an older black woman shrugged unapologetically. The blonde instructor (thirtysomething, long straight hair parted down the middle, a stomach eight months along and a left finger without a ring) motioned toward the next woman in the circle.

"Well, I don't know!" the Sally Field lookalike giggled. "Everybody in my office is doing it."

"They didn't teach us this in art school," an androgynous, sporty-type in her early 20s quipped bawdily. The nice Catholic girl she came with just smiled and looked at the ground.

But perhaps it was the lady beside them, a Korean in her mid-30s, possibly in public relations, probably married (the kind of couple you see with lattes at the Sharper Image in a Connecticut mall at 11 a.m. on a Sunday) who put it best. Her open face said no-nonsense, yet never stern. She was intelligent, she knew what she needed and she wasn't afraid to come out and say it. "I guess I wanted to do something a little creative," she explained, setting her bottled water down next to a Banana Republic bag that held a yoga mat and a large, healthy bundle of bright green yarn. "Also...I thought I could make a lot of inexpensive gifts."

And as I stare out at the group of 22 wide-eyed women who accurately reflect the ages, classes, ethnicities and (judging by the haircuts) sexual preferences of this city, I wonder to myself?is knitting the new karaoke?

"I didn't even know we could do a class like this," Teva Durham, a former editor at Vogue Knitting and our guide during this nutty, four-week adventure at the Open Center (whose scent of patchouli and wheat germ is, at least for tonight, cut with Chanel's Mademoiselle) admits. "But then the class sold out so quickly."

It makes sense. A society decadent to the degree we were allowed, nay encouraged to be, spending leisure time onstage doing unforgivable versions of "Running with the Devil," or so bored that noshing on caviar via the company Amex in the latest eatery passed for a Saturday night. Now, following a heavy dose of reality, women (there was one man in the room, although he left after they announced the title of the course) would rather spend their free time doing something more substantial. "The texture of the yarn was so solid, the pattern of the stitch so predictable, not like life today..." But unlike that Web design class you signed up for last fall, this is a skill you can actually use.

And in the spirit of falling back on tradition, when things were "simpler" (something people do a lot during times of great change and upheaval), Teva believes in teaching the "circular" method. It's the oldest form of knitting, as opposed to the more common "flat" technique (involving two separate needles), which popped up around the time of the Industrial Revolution.

Yet just because it's older doesn't mean it has to be harder. Still, after Teva asks the class to make a slip knot, a few people look around for their personal assistant or some sort of specialist. And as she describes how to "cast on" and make our first stitches, everyone feels lost. Teva patiently makes her way around the room, and in 15 minutes we're all knitting. Fingers fly familiarly. Women who've just met laugh, chat and nod as they work, as if they've known each other for years. As in any class, there's the official know-it-all?a Chinese lady with short, annoyingly efficient hair who leans over with pursed lips declaring, "You still have a ways to go," to the young Jew who didn't ask, and is making slow but steady progress thank you very much. Yet mostly the atmosphere is like the first day at college or boot camp: instant, necessary camaraderie. And that only reinforces what these women were no doubt hoping to find here?a hobby that is relaxing and social, yet so absorbing they don't have time to think of their troubles.

There were rough patches, naturally, and at times the expressions went from trepidation to bald fear to victory and finally back to trepidation again. Yet confusion was the most common (as one arty-looking German put it thickly when shown a tricky stitch, "Zat is bizarre!"). And Teva warned students that while everyone comes to the course with a project, it's best not to try for the Hoover Dam your first time out.

According to a friend, the fad hit L.A. first a few years ago, and apparently it was worth it to see models knitting wool scarves for those miserable Malibu nights. But, just like the current national mood of war and recession, knitting probably won't be a flash in the pan on this coast. (At one point in class I shouted unironically, "Gosh this is fun!")

So consider yourself warned. Don't be surprised if the girls get together on Sunday to watch Legends of the Fall and someone brings her yarn along, or next season Carrie's holding a pair of knitting needles instead of a cosmopolitan.