Chunky Crochet PomPom Hat THREE Ways!

Hello yarning friends!  I’ve got a new pattern that I’m really excited to share with you.  It has all the elements you’d want in a winter hat: it’s toasty warm, it’s super fast, it’s universally flattering, and it’s unisex.  Yes, all of the above!

Crochet Pom Pom Hat Three Ways | Classy CrochetHere’s the story of how this hat/pattern came about:

Prior to this past winter, the hats that I’d made were warm and satisfying.  The newsboy cap was stylin on stylin days, the chunky cloche was the best for really cold days – my head was usually sweating by the time I’d get off the Metro in Washington DC – and others I had lying about always served the trick.  It was more a matter of when I could justify wearing them vs. the need to actually do so.

Then, last year, we moved to Beijing, China.  The winter, as we quickly discovered, is much, much colder than anything DC could possibly have offered up, and being in a big city sans car meant you had to walk everywhere. Now, I’m from upstate NY and my husband’s from the upper peninsula of Michigan (you didn’t know they had one, did you?  That’s how many people live there), so we’re both used to cold winters.  But this past winter was cold.  In fact, the month of December supposedly racked up as one of the coldest in Beijing history, so even for a Beijing winter it was frickin freezing.  Temperatures aside, the city is also extremely windy.  Chicago-eans, I have newfound respect for you all!

I had planned ahead of time and purchased the longest, warmest puffy coat I could from Lands’ End – not the stylish ones that end right past your hips, but the to-the-floor style that’s basically a sleeping bag with holes cut out for your feet.  Wearing it just *barely* kept the chill at bay, and the eight inches that my legs stuck out the bottom were always frigid (insert need to knit myself legwarmers for this winter.  Yes, LEGWARMERS!).

Anyway, the point is, my hats no longer kept my head warm.  They were too thin, they were too holey, and that ridiculous Beijing wind would just whip through any beautiful design I’d attempted, mocking my creativity and destroying my will to live. Or knit or crochet or whatever.

So, this year I was determined to make a hat that will keep my head toasty and sweaty no matter what the elements.  I figured chunky yarn with a close, thick stitch would do the trick.  And everyone loves pompoms!

This pattern is really more for me than it is for you, but y’know, I like to share so here it is.  The double crochet is the fastest, but darn those holes, so I made up a single crochet version, and then I thought, heck, while I’m at it, I might as well do the half double crochet to round out the triumvirate. There are adult, child, and baby sizes for each, and the sizes can easily be modified by changing the weight of your yarn and/or the size of your crochet hook.

Make one for every member of your family and thumb your nose at those wiley winter winds!

Get it on Ravelry, Etsy, or Craftsy today and get crocheting!

Yarn Adventures in Beijing (Part II… and III)

Several weeks ago, my birthday arrived, as it always does around this time of year.  I didn’t have any huge plans, and I wanted to spend the day doing something that *I* wanted, and not feel obligated to anything else.  I’d recently been re-inspired by this post to find yarn in Beijing, and was determined to buy some (even though I have, on my estimation, approximately 100,000 yards of yarn in my spare room).  Whatever, it was my birthday, my party, I could buy pointless yarn if I wanted to, etc.

I’ve now learned my lesson when exploring unknown territory in China – I pack a large purse filled with water bottle, lots of small change, subway card, hand sanitizer, sometimes camera, and most importantly, snacks.  It’s pretty much like traveling with a small toddler, except said small toddler is me.

Anyway, snacks in hand, directions printed out both in Chinese and on a map, I hailed a taxi and was on my way.  The entire process was much easier than I had anticipated… I hadn’t realized that they had recently jacked up prices on taxis, which is a very minor con (at the end of the day it’s like $1 USD more per ride), but it has resulted in LOTS MORE empty taxis, because let’s face it, Chinese people are super cheap,  and in this regard I am a spendy American, so I’m thrilled.

I got to Wansha (no camera, I was trying to travel light), and it was exactly as pictured.  A woman latched onto me the minute I walked in, which was simultaneously super helpful and super annoying, but I reminded myself that this is service in China (it’s either completely nonexistent, or really, really, really, really overbearing).  She kept asking me what I wanted the yarn for, and I kept telling her I just wanted to buy yarn for the sake of buying yarn.  This concept is very foreign to the extremely pragmatic Chinese, but I persevered.  I made sure to examine every. single. skein. of yarn in the store, and have to say, didn’t really see anything I loved (most of it was simply too expensive for my China expectations), so I walked out with several skeins of DK wool of “Australian origin”, in some gorgeous fuschia/lime green that, sadly, my camera simply could not capture. (it turned the colors olive green and reddish purple, so I won’t torture you with that.)  The nice part was, I got 8 skeins of 100g merino wool for a total of about 125 RMB, or $20 USD, and I can’t complain about that price.

Turns out, yarn in China is mostly used for making actual clothing (What? USEFUL yarn?!  Surely not!) which translates to, most ‘yarn’ is actually ‘nice thread that you hold double’; the heaviest weight plied yarn you’re ever going to find is DK or sport.  Occasionally you’ll find bulkier yarn, but it’s usually novelty and has, in my opinion, unnecessary lumpy things worked into it.

Next stop: Wool City.  Now, I have heard many varying opinions of said ‘city’.  The first person told me they wouldn’t want to sell me yarn, they only would want to sell me clothing.  The second person had sweaters made and said she found yarn for sale just fine.  The third person said it wasn’t worth the trip and the yarn was extremely shoddy, filled with poisonous dyes that stained her knitting needles.  (She being an epidemiologist for the CDC, I was inclined to believe her and be very, very careful.)  And so on.  But, a friend offered me her driver for the day, and I simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to head out there. *tip: if you ever live overseas, try your best to get a job with a soul sucking oil or aviation company, and they will hook you up with the nicest expat benefits packages ever.  Including a driver with a ginormous  minivan, who is at your beck and call to navigate these insane streets, find parking, and magically show up when you’re ready to go, massive life-size terra cotta warrior purchase in hand.* For the sake of adventure, and because I had a free, hassle/headache free ride out there, I was going to go.

I tempered my expectations accordingly (i.e., I was expecting even less than Wansha), and since I didn’t have to walk miles, packed my camera.  I tried to research Wool City online, and was the most intrigued by this article written for The Beijinger, a great magazine geared towards the multitudes of expats living in this marvelous city.  It is through the Beijinger that I discovered Jason Mraz was coming to concert here last summer, which was one of the saving graces that helped me through my move here.

Anyway, the article was well written, it had great pictures, and best of all, it stated that the particular store the author visited had enthusiastic employees who were willing to go out on a limb for those thinking outside the box.  I appreciated all of these things, since I, too, am tired of people who only try to push on you their most expensive item and sneer upon you if you don’t buy it, or outright scold you for going cheaper.

Upon arrival, I was greeted with this ‘city’:


Yes my friends, no building in China is complete without a McDonalds at the bottom.  I figured at least it would be a good place to get a snack after my proposed morning of exploring.  Filled with determination, I ventured in, fully prepared for a warren of open stalls and screaming vendors and overwhelming, copious amounts of THINGS.

Instead, I was greeted with dimly lit, cold, would-be-sterile-except-it’s-China-so-they’re-nasty-dirty hallways, with small signs labeling each storefront and a practically hushed atmosphere.  It looked like a former hospital had been converted to a warehouse.  In fact, at one point I reached the end of a corridor, and through glass doors and the rest of the hallway, the signs turned from “yarn shop 133” to “microscopic lab” and “testing engineering room”, so I don’t think I was too far off.  Leave it to China to house both a yarn city and a laboratory in the same building.


I peeked in a few doors as I tiptoed by.  Many were closed, several had yarn, and many were also filled with fabric and other such sundry items.


I figured I would just start at Store 321, as per Beijinger’s recommendation.  Shockingly, it looked just like the pictures in the article!  Not to mention, the women were just as nice as the author had stated.  It was clear that they had gotten quite a bit of foreign business from the article, as the woman immediately offered me the option of a custom made Totoro hat.


I refused, but was thrilled that I could ask her questions about yarn and quality and she actually did NOT try to push products on me.  When she asked what project I needed the yarn for and I said I was just there to look and buy, she laughed and stood aside.  This was a good thing.

The selection itself wasn’t too terribly different from Wansha (technically, Wansha had more ‘variety’), but I was pleased with their less expensive options.  And, true to the Beijinger, they had a million zillion buttons, which I also perused.


After I made a few purchases (I had tried to discipline myself by only bringing 200 RMB or $31 USD), I went and poked through as many other stores as I could handle.


Doesn’t the sight of this just make you want to squeeeeeeeee?


One of them drew me in with several women knitting, and one of them was a beginner learning to make this hat.  I was intrigued by the fit – it looks like a super baggy toque/beret in front, but the design has puckered up the back so it doesn’t slouch, which is fabulous! I also loved the yarn, and ended up buying it in two colors, a gorgeous purple/green gradient and a blue striped one.


Sadly, I don’t remember the store number but I’m sure you could find this yarn in other shops.  If anyone can figure out this hat pattern, please share!


The mannequin head had that weird faux-hawk thing going on, hence the odd lump on the top


At the end of my adventure, I wound up with the following:


The yellow and red were to make this apple dress from Ravelry, but I was thrilled with the orange/yellow, because I have been looking FOREVER to find the perfect yarn to make THIS, which has been on my queue for months.


FIRE HAT!! *insert maniacal giggle*

I immediately got home and cast on, and am pretty pleased with the results (the yarn is nice and springy and blocked well).  Total damage? 97 RMB ($16 USD) for 750 g of DK merino yarn, and 40 RMB ($6.50) for 200g of the gradient yarn.  WIN!

Final verdict: Wool City can be hard to get to (it’s a few blocks away from the nearest subway, most expats live on the east side of town and it’s on the west side), but for sheer variety and options, I would highly recommend it to any yarn-lover willing to embark on a small adventure to find some pretty cool yarn.

Fabric Adventures in Beijing

A few months ago, I wrote a post about making a sweater for my adorable new nephew.  It was one of my first articles of actual clothing, and I was just happy it fit.  His parents, bless their kind and generous souls, loved it – they raved about it several times, saying it was his go-to for outerwear, church wear, and just about any dapper wear.  Hooray!  While on a rare visit to the U.S., his mom (my sis-in-law) commented “y’know what would be even more awesome?  Elbow patches.”

And thus a mission was launched – I simply HAD to add patches to my next item in my mini-haberdashery line.  I mean, seriously… shawl collar baby sweaters with little Dr. Doolittle patches?  AAAAAAH TOO CUTE!  The question was, how do I accomplish this in Beijing?

First, I had to decide on a type of fabric.  I had an idea of what I wanted, but China, being the land of plenty-and-inconvenient, wasn’t going to just have a Joann’s I could hop in and out in a ten minute spree.  After asking around a bit, one wonderful local friend offered to take me to The Fabric Market.  They had an upholstery section singularly dedicated to covering furniture, it would be easy to find something there, right?

Yeah, you already know the answer.  The thing is, everything is available in China. Obviously.  The question I’ve learned to ask myself is, how complicated will it be to find what I want?

Finally, one rainy fateful afternoon, we finally set out to the market (only the upholstery section, mind you, which apparently is only a FRACTION of the size of the entire market – airplane hangars, remember?), me with my yarn and a suede sample in hand to say, “I want something like unto this”.

I couldn’t find photos of the upholstery section, but here is a quick sampling of what accosts you when you reach said market:

In a lot of ways, Beijing can be a scavenger’s DREAM.  Imagine these stalls, multiplied by approximately four hundred, all staffed by people willing to bargain and give you a good deal.

Before I continue my story, I want to share one of the few useful things I learned in grad school and still retain today.  I studied survey methodology, which is a really fancy way of saying “how to ask people really mundane questions”.  One of the most pertinent pieces of information I took away was a summary of decision making.

People (according to my graduate studies), tend to make decisions in two general camps:  satisficers and maximizers.  As the labels would imply, satisficers look at their options in the order they are presented to them, until they see the first one that satisfies their basic needs.  (Pretty much all men I’ve ever met when it comes to underwear shopping.)  Maximizers, on the other hand, need to see ALL of their options, weigh them out, and then, based on the total selection, carefully choose the one that maximizes all of their decision making criteria. Yes… I am a maximizer.

The problem with maximizers (other than the agonizingly long amount of time you have to wait when you’re at a restaurant and have ordered your dish and your maximizing friend is still hemming and hawing over two choices) is that, at some point, there are just simply going to be too many choices to choose from.  The amount of options, multiplied by the different potential combinations, is just beyond an average human brain to comprehend.

So, if you haven’t already figured it out, please let me make this very clear: shopping in Beijing quickly turns into a maximizer’s worst nightmare.  Whatever you want, there will be five thousand stalls of it, all selling the same stuff, all approximately the same quality, for all approximately the same price.  BUT, a few stalls will have something just a *wee* bit different, so in your mind, you’re inexorably pulled towards each one, checking juuuust to make sure you haven’t missed a total treasure.  Just writing this brings me stress.  My brain simply shuts down after about 58 minutes (I’ve timed it).

Okay, back to my story.  Knowing that I would be confronted with a conflagration of fabric options, I went in with three basic criteria:  it had to match my color palette, it had to be a reasonable price, and it had to be a reasonably close fabric to microsuede (whatever that is).  My ideal would be all three, if I got two out of three I’d have to consider the day a success.

To spare you the excruciating details of my shopping saga, I’d like to impart the knowledge I took away from that day:

  • Chinese people really love velour.  I mean like, really, really, really love velour, and not just the kind that says Juicy across your butt, but the shiny, shimmery, Austin Powers leisure suit purple kind of velour.  Bolts and bolts and pallets of it.
  • Not only is each stall filled with bolts of velour (and other jacquardy things), each stall also has five million little sample swatches of fabric that you can special order to your heart’s content.  My mind was overcome.
  • Despite the quadrillions of options, I’ve come to discover here in Beijing that when you say “I want this type of fabric, in this color, for this price”, for some reason the answer is always no.  I mean, really?  NOBODY had suede-like synthetic, machine washable fabric among your five zillion options??  Sometimes I feel like they say no just because your request sounds complicated and they don’t feel like looking.  Because honestly, if I was managing a store with eight hundred thousand swatches, I wouldn’t feel like looking either.
  • One of the stores I entered I happened to pick up a fabric swatch and there it was: the most gorgeous, perfect, suede polyester in the most gorgeous, perfect, beautiful colors.  How much?? I demanded.  “Oh… THAT’S imported from Taiwan.  $25 a yard.  Oh you only want one yard?  No we won’t order it for you.” *face palm*

Finally after three hours, I stormed back into the first shop I’d entered, found some less-nappy, minimally shimmery, velour-esque stuff in more or less the colors that I wanted, and the one bright shining star was that it was $1.50 per half meter and in total I spent $6.50 for what I wanted.  Aaaand really… at the end of the day, the material worked out just fine.

So let that be a lesson to all who shop in China… sometimes China just wins.  But aren’t the patches AWESOME??



Yarn Adventures in Beijing

Ever since I moved to Beijing in April 2012, I’ve been looking to buy yarn.  I mean, we are in China.  Everything is MADE in China.  It would therefore seem obvious that everything is available for purchase here, and at a fraction of the cost you’d get it in the U.S., right?

As you may imagine from my not-so-subtle foreshadowing, the answer to this supposedly rhetorical question is, sadly, nope.  Ironically, most of the things you ubiquitously see “Made in China” in every other country in the world, cannot be found in China itself.  The products are mysteriously produced in mysterious factories and are mysteriously shipped to their international locations.  Of course, then you get the knockoffs, but that’s another story for another day.  One of the first things I learned upon moving here was, “lower your expectations substantially.  Then lower them some more.  This way you’ll only be pleasantly surprised when something actually goes as you had imagined.”

Finding yarn was one such expectation.  I first asked the Community Liason Officer in our Beijing Embassy weeks upon my arrival.  She’s supposed to know where to get everything local, since she is a Beijing local.  So, I asked.  She scratched her head and said “weeellll… I suppose you COULD go to Wool City.  They have yarn there.  But mostly they’ll want to sell you something custom made from the yarn, not the yarn itself.”  I looked it up on a map.  It was clear on the other side of town, and a substantial enough distance from the subway that I knew I’d get lost.  (I have the worst sense of direction a human being could possibly have.  This, coupled with less-than stellar language skills, makes for awesome exploration in an unknown city.)  Wool City never happened.  Then I asked some local friends.  They excitedly told me about a few different places, but always concluded with “it’s kind of hard to find, I’ll have to take you sometime”, which also never happened.

Finally, finally, after having ordered enough yarn online to stock up an entire bedroom, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and go local.  Okay… actually, my husband decided it was time to bite the bullet and freakin find some freakin yarn in freakin China already.  We picked a random Monday and decided to head out to Dong Jiao Market, a local place that ‘sells everything, including yarn’, and figured we could make it both an exploration AND a mission.  It is supposed to be where locals go (instead of us foreign tourists) and therefore more, shall we way, authentic.  Which in China always means more dirty.  Because of that, and I knew how overwhelming such markets could be, I wanted to stay focused and didn’t bring my camera, so here are photos I’ve stolen off the Internet.

Behold, the insanity of Dong Jiao:

You first enter with a what looks to be promising gate of typical Chinese fashion.  Ooh, you think.  A real market!  Yes, according to China standards, this was certainly a ‘real’ market.  You then proceeded to walk down aisles and aisles of outdoor stalls selling STUFF: food, plastic bins, bikes, motorcycles, socks, spices, teas, etc.  No yarn, we noted.  Moving on, there were several warehouse-sized buildings to our left that promised untold treasures inside.  The first one we entered…

…sold meat.  And fruit.  And vegetables, in dizzying quantities.  The day we went was cold and slushy, which meant cold and really, really nasty wet muddy dirty, and the smells were overwhelming.  The husband wanted to walk through all the aisles, but we weren’t planning on buying any meat, and I commented “I don’t think a meat aisle sells yarn.  At least, I don’t want to think that the yarn is sold with the meat.”  So, we exited and entered the first of what would be many doors of the warehouse two bunkers down. (The second warehouse was clearly labeled “Kitchen Schtuff”, two of the forty Chinese characters I know! so we knew not to go in there).

As we were leaving, we passed a woman – one of  many – sitting behind one of these spice stalls.  She was knitting a huMONgous looking creation on twenty or so metal needles, so we knew that yarn was somewhere close!  When we asked her where to buy it, she pointed vaguely in a northerly direction, so a northerly direction we went.

The (third) bunker ended up being filled.with.stuff.  All kinds of stuff imaginable.  Each stall about six feet wide, each aisle about twenty stalls long, each building about ten stalls wide, and each door leading to about eight buildings total.  We walked down almost every single one.

I could go on all day, but suffice to say it took us about an hour of solid walking before we even felt like we’d infiltrated the building.

THEN there was the issue of actually finding the yarn.  Asking directions in China is always an adventure. “Excuse me, where do you find yarn?”  “Oh, go through this building, all the way down to the end, and turn left.  You can’t miss it.”  We dead ended in children’s clothing.  While it was impressive we found textiles, there was no yarn.  So we asked again.  “Oh, go to the OTHER side of the building, fourth row down, all the way on the right.”  Keep in mind, these buildings are like the size of airplane hangars.  Upon arrival, we found mops and brooms.  This was starting to get just a tad irritating.

Finally, FINALLY, someone pointed us in the right direction, and I found myself standing in front of two (2) tiny, 6 foot stalls selling yarn.  I mean… really??  Of the four thousand stalls selling plastic puke bins, you can’t have more than a two stall demand for yarn?  Okay, fine whatever.  After much debate, hemming and hawing with the very nice young man, and elbowing my way past women who kept grabbing the yarn I’d set aside for purchase and rubbing it all over their face to test the softness (yes I replaced it), I settled for some brightly colored, half acrylic/wool skeins at 50 cents for 75 yards.  It was unwound, which meant I’d have a great opportunity to use the electric yarn winder my mother in law got me for Christmas.  I never thought I’d use it as much as I have, but it’s a life saver.  🙂  I told the husband that the colors would be perfect for the sports-related hats I’m always getting commissioned to make, and after a short debate of “do I want orange? yellow? which shade of pink?” I ended up walking away with *all of them* and a camping backpack stuffed to the gills with unwound yarn.  I mean, it ended up being like $50, how could I say no?


I don’t know if this photo adequately captures just how much yarn this is.  Not only was it piled to my head, but each color came in five small hanks that had to be individually wound into 75 yard skeins… five times twenty different colors = 100 little balls of yarn to wind.  I better be able to do something with it all.  🙂

This is what 100 little wound balls look like.  Keep in mind this shelf was three-four balls deep.  I have so much fun in my spare time.



Oh, and I also picked up a random skein of music hand knotted flocking yarn.  Because y’know, the fashion vanguard, bring us sunshine mood!