Just kill me now.
Of course I'm not one to rush out and buy these things -- no, no. I sit at home looking and re-looking at the catalog until it is bedraggled and unrecognizable. I dream of all the knitting I could do that would be inspired by such beautiful sweaters, and tams, and cozy, cozy cardigans. It's certainly not about trying to knit it for less - that was my grandmother's generation, or because I've seen the fashion from some far off place and have no access to it (dear god, they send it like a pusher selling crack). It's more about having a deep need to feel as though I've made something for our family, provided in some way. And the need to create and conquer a pattern secretly knowing about all the flaws and mistakes no one else can see. And, in some small way, the desire to make a dent in the global destruction that is industry.
As such, I am sure there will be much mooning over fibers in the knit shop, and discussions of pattern altering and creation. And maybe, just maybe, I will find myself with gift cards to the Village Yarn Shop after Christmas this year so I won't bankrupt us through my obsession. But I assure you, the obsessing has begun.