From Vanilla to Morag: A Shorelines Test Knit Story

The acceptance email landed just as I refreshed my inbox for the umpteenth time. I squealed and then immediately wondered what on earth I'd signed up for. I was about to test knit a cabled sweater for Rebecca Clow's first book, and the last cables I'd attempted belonged to a baby blanket I never finished 18 years ago.

What Is a Test Knit?

“Test Knit” means knitting a pattern before it’s published to make sure it works. Before a design is released, the designer invites a group of knitters to work through it, flag anything confusing, catch errors, and check how it fits across sizes. Testers are usually chosen from applications, often with a range of skill levels, so the designer can see how the pattern holds up in many different hands. For me, it's a chance to peek behind the scenes and help a pattern I love reach other knitters in the best shape it can. Why this one felt so momentous takes a little explaining, and a trip back in time.

Finding My Sea Legs

I first learned to knit as a teenager, but with a yarn budget of precisely nothing, it didn't stick, and that cabled baby blanket for my little brother fell by the wayside. When I came back to knitting a few years ago, I still believed sweaters were for other people, you know, proper knitters who were squarely in "intermediate" territory, wherever that was. I even searched online for what the labels meant, half hoping for permission, but it all seemed so subjective, and analyzing myself has never been a strong suit of mine.

My friends and coworkers will happily tell you I'm a champion second-guesser. Knitting has never been exempt, even when the evidence of a job well done is sitting right there on my needles. In the end, social media tipped the balance. Seeing brand-new knitters cast on sweaters as their very first project, I thought, well, if they can do it, certainly I can!

Begin Your Own Vanilla (opens in new tab)

Around the same time, I came across The Woolly Thistle and its Vanilla Sweater Starter Set. Everything was in the box: yarn already calculated for my size, video guidance I could rewatch as often as I needed, and a pair of ChiaoGoo needles, which even newer knitters know to covet and I had longed to try. Best of all, the yarn was Rauma Finullgarn from Norway, a country very dear to my heart.

Until then I had never stopped to think about where my wool came from, or that I could wear a sweater grown in a place I love. That kit opened a door I didn't know was there.

When I finished that sweater, I was so proud (yes, me, actually proud) I considered framing it! A few months later, by sheer coincidence, I found myself working for The Woolly Thistle. I could hardly believe it.

Fun fact: once my Vanilla was off the needles, I did something slightly unhinged. I immediately bought two Into the Wild yarn sets, one for me and one for my husband, both in unspun Plötulopi. I'm fully aware of how that sounds, but I'm so glad my new confidence carried me straight past the point where I'd usually talk myself out of things. Seeing the Vanilla Sweater that my own two hands had made, I finally believed I could tackle more, and I could.

Wander Into the Wild (opens in new tab)

Something on the Horizon: How I Applied to Be a Test Knitter

I first came across Rebecca Clow, known as The Creabea, on TikTok, before I'd knit a single sweater. She's primarily a sweater designer, so I was watching her share the inner workings of her design process long before I'd dared to make one myself. What kept me coming back was how she spoke about inclusive sizing, and the fascinating peeks behind the scenes.

Then one of Rebecca's newsletters brought big news: a secret test knit was on the way, for her very first book, with Laine! I was thrilled for her, and more than a little curious.

I'd also done a handful of test knits by then, all of them smaller accessories. Those experiences gave me some faith that I could be genuinely useful to a designer. I do have one firm rule: I only apply for designs I'd actually want to wear, not just because the idea of testing appeals to me.

When the first round of book patterns arrived, I chose the one that sounded most like something I'd reach for and could realistically finish in the given time. I filled out the form and hit send before I could talk myself out of it. I wasn't chosen that first round, but I knew the pool of expert knitters she could choose from was probably enormous, so I wasn't surprised or disappointed. I applied again in the next round, and before long the acceptance email arrived!

Charting a Course

Once the excited squealing had died down, I took a closer look at the design I'd been chosen for, Morag. Its signature detail is a run of cable increases climbing the raglan lines. Given my history with cables, I was more than a little daunted. Still, I was willing to try, and I knew there would be a whole group of fellow testers to lean on if I got stuck.

Then it was time to go yarn shopping at The Woolly Thistle! My first priority was gauge. The original Morag was knit in Peace Fleece DK, a woolen-spun yarn grown and spun in the United States, though Rebecca had told us we were free to substitute. Working at TWT has made me endlessly curious about how different wools behave. I work remotely, so I can't wander into the warehouse and squish skeins whenever I like. Every new yarn I knit with is a chance to understand it, and to write about it better. I'd already spent time with Rauma and Lopi, so I went browsing through our DK-weight yarns for something new.

Pick Your Appledore Shade (opens in new tab)

My colleague Tina, The Woolly Thistle's amazing E-Commerce Coordinator, had shared her excitement about a sweater she'd made in John Arbon Appledore, and once I saw the Ellis Bitter colorway, the decision made itself. It's a heathered blend of purple, blue, and green, my three favorite colors in one skein. Appledore is a non-superwash mix of Devon Closewool, Romney, and Exmoor Blueface, all sourced from England's West Country. (Second fun fact: every shade is named for a local apple variety, and Ellis Bitter is a cider apple!)

Peace Fleece DK is woolen-spun making it light and airy. Appledore, by contrast, is worsted spun, so I knew the fabric might behave a little differently. Part of the fun was finding out how. Happily, I met gauge on my very first swatch, and after a soak, it bloomed into a soft, swingy fabric with an elegant drape, which deserved a small celebration of its own. 

Choppy Waters

Rebecca's instructions were extremely clear, and she had even included links to tutorials for the cable increases. Before casting on, I read the pattern from start to finish and highlighted everything that applied to my size, so I knew exactly what lay ahead.

The cables I'd been nervous about turned out not to be as tricky as I'd expected! That doesn't mean it was all smooth sailing, however. I made mistakes, ripped back more than once, and each time the old panic crept in. What steadied me was something Corinne, our founder, likes to say: "All knitting is good knitting." Even when you're unraveling, you're learning. Mindset matters too: think of redoing a section as getting to knit it again, and things look much less gloomy. It works!

One slipup happened at the front and center of the bust. Absolutely. Typical. By then I'd learned that I knit my worst when I panic. Test knitting for a project I admired so much felt like too much of a privilege to let nerves take the wheel. I remained calm, worked out a fix, and I think it's relatively invisible to the untrained eye. In the future I'd like to take notes on my mistakes rather than blocking the memory so that I can better remember how I overcame them, which is of course the most important part of making mistakes.

My most dramatic moment came at the very end, while weaving in ends.. I trimmed the wrong side of a tail, the side still attached to my knitting, and sat frozen in horror for a good while before scrounging up a rescue. I hardly drew a breath as I worked, but thankfully the stitch was saved.

Test knitting for a book did feel special. Someday soon, knitters I'll never meet will follow these instructions, and our notes will help make sure they're successful. That added some pressure, but mostly it felt like being trusted with something precious, and I wanted to honor that. Besides, a tester's job is to knit the pattern the way a real knitter would, slipups and all, and I was happy to be one of those knitters.

A Little More Length

Then came another first: lengthening a finished sweater. I'd suspected Morag would need more length on my body, but I was anxious to reach the end and see how blocking would change things, and I wanted to knit as closely to the written pattern as I could. My swatch had behaved nicely, though I wondered how the weight of a whole sweater might pull on the fabric.

As it turned out, Appledore bloomed beautifully in the bath, its halo puffing up to fill every gap, but it barely grew in length. Its grippy, springy fibers held their shape, and I didn’t want to stretch it into something it wasn’t. That was a real contrast to the Rauma Finullgarn in my Vanilla, which relaxed with a gentle tug.

After one more try-on, I knew I wouldn't enjoy wearing it quite so cropped with the clothes I actually own, so I undid the bind-off and rolled hem, knit more length, and finished it all over again. I was nervous, but by then I'd adopted a new motto: knitters do this all the time, so I can too.

All Hands on Deck

Rebecca was lovely to work with! She was steering 18 patterns toward publication at once, yet she looked into every question, clarified whenever needed, and stayed friendly, encouraging, and professional throughout. Hearing her talk about the collection's inspiration on TikTok only made me more invested.

Our test group became a cozy harbor of its own. Everyone shared their yarn choices and progress photos, and we cheered each other on through every stage.

About the Book

Shorelines is deeply personal to Rebecca. It draws on growing up on Scotland's east coast and sailing the west coast with her grandparents, who were avid sailors. She inherited their logbooks, which record decades of voyages across Europe, and scans of those pages appear in the book.

Rebecca added a touch of playfulness, too! Feolin invites you to knit in maritime flags of your choosing, and duplicate stitch charts let you personalize a sweater with charming images including a puffin, a seal, and a lighthouse. In all, the collection holds 12 garments and 6 accessories rooted in traditional ganseys and Scotland's long knitting heritage, made to stand up to sea breezes and coastal mist.

What strikes me most is how classic the designs are. These are true wardrobe staples, and I could happily knit my way through most of the book, which is now available for preorder!

Reserve Your Copy of Shorelines (opens in new tab)

Making Landfall

I love my Morag! The Appledore has a soft halo paired with a lustrous, almost a metallic glow in the right light. I had worried that the heathered yarn would detract from the cables or soften their appearance, but comparing them to Rebecca’s, I was really pleased to see they’re still distinct. The rolled cuffs, hem, and neckline were all new to me and my wardrobe, and they’ve become a favorite detail. More than anything, though, this sweater will always be special to me. It marks a milestone I never imagined reaching: knitting for a designer I’ve admired for years.

The first time I wore my Morag, I was standing on the rocky shore of Acadia National Park in Maine, salt in the air and waves lapping by my feet. It seemed the right place for a sweater born from a book about Scotland's coastline.

When the preorder launched and the patterns appeared on Ravelry, I finally learned the story behind my sweater’s name. Morag is a nod to Katie Morag, the mischievous heroine of Mairi Hedderwick’s beloved Scottish children’s books, who has a talent for getting into scrapes and wriggling back out. I love that my sweater carries a little of her spirit, and I hope Morag and I find many more shorelines to explore together.

The version of me that once hesitated over that first Vanilla would never have pictured herself knitting for a designer like Rebecca. In fact, I'd probably have said I was getting too big for my boots. What I feel now is less pride than gratitude. It was a privilege to play a small part in this book, and I'm wishing Rebecca every success as Shorelines sets sail.

Preorder Shorelines (opens in new tab)