I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why we are drawn to certain textures. When you look at the Alyssum Sweater, you likely see the soft rise of the broken rib, the way the light hits the yarn, and the cosy texture of the stitch pattern. You see the artistry.
But beneath that beauty is a silently complex architecture.
The Inspiration: A Study in Relaxed Refinement
The design seed for Alyssum was born from a simple, personal need. I wanted a sweatshirt-like tunic for layering in warmer weather that didn’t look sloppy. Maximum sleeve lift was a must, so I could stretch my arms above my head without the hem heading skyward. And I was after a specific kind of beauty; a piece that felt relaxing to wear but remained smart and pretty enough to look put-together if I left the house and was Seen By Other People In Public.
I also wanted visual and structural integrity; beauty that doesn’t bag or sag. Cotton jersey is a wonderful fabric, but I didn’t want to knit something resembling it. Plus, broken ribs are one of my favourite of all knitted textures; I love the rhythm on the needles and the cosy texture of the fabric. However, bringing that relaxed vision into reality presented me with a significant design dilemma.
The Design Dilemma: Art vs. Maths
The challenge was one of preservation: How do I create the style lines I want without ruining the broken rib texture of the stitches? When we knit, we are essentially working with a grid. In Alyssum’s case, the scale of the stitch repeat was significant. It was also a grid, and a very defined one at that.
The art wanted a specific silhouette, but the maths demanded another. My mock sweatshirt demanded clean lines and a roomy silhouette that wasn’t messy. My size chart wanted nuance, but today was not the day. To keep the visual relationship perfectly pitched across every size, I had to find a middle ground — a bit like tuning an instrument so the song stays in key.
The Engineering: The Maths-to-Pattern Conflict
This is where applied maths stops being about sums and starts being about geometry, rhythm, and flow. In short: Art.
During the technical editing process, which I worked on with Kate Atherley, the shaping became a major fixture of the design rather than an afterthought. I realised early on that my training in pattern cutting — understanding how silhouettes truly relate to the body — was going to be both the problem and the solution to the rigid repeat of the broken rib.
The constraints of my size chart and the specific repeat multiple led me to an unexpected solution: Dual Sizing. The maths just wouldn’t let me have it any other way.
You’ll see that the broken rib pattern repeats over a multiple of 4 stitches. My styling detail only worked if the number of stitches decreased throughout the armhole and sleeve shaping was also a multiple of 4. I decided it had to be that way so that the transition was perfect, that the pattern lined up beautifully as a result of the fully-fashioned shaping. I didn’t want any dodgy pattern alignment to ruin the clean look of the design. Plus, there’s nothing fussy about sweatshirts — their simplicity is their success.
The fitting standards I hold for my designs across the full range couldn’t be satisfied within twelve individual sizes without breaking the logic of the stitch pattern repeat and the conditions needed for it to work. By batch grading and moving to six dual sizes, I was able to protect the engineering and, by extension, protect the beauty of the relaxed silhouette.
The Result: Calculated Comfort
The subtitle of this section is an oxymoron at first reading, but it’s true! And I could probably add calculated beauty too, but that would make it too long 😉.
As it happens, this is one way of showing you that geometry and planning is what prevents a tunic from looking like a shapeless sack. By leaning into the constraints of the repeat, I found a solution that honoured the relaxed fit of my original idea while ensuring the sharp fully-fashioned lines remained intact. That detail was so important to hold on to. It stopped Alyssum from slipping into sweatshirt territory (even though she is very much there once you put her on!)
The Alyssum sweater is an example of what happens when a designer refuses to compromise on the aesthetic and trusts in their creative problem solving skills. And I really hope that it inspires you to take a second look. It is a design born from a puzzle, solved through maths, and finished with a flourish. Much like the cute summer flowers Alyssum was named after!
Explore the Alyssum Sweater Pattern Here
