Yes, there is an actual story with actual people who actually crochet.
I had the pleasure of being apart of this project and during the process I was met by many a crafter that gleefully exclaimed, “I knit, too!” “Well, actually, I crochet.”, was my flat response masked by a hesitant grin. It wasn’t their fault, but it was the fact I had to explain, re-explain, over and under and again, “No, I crochet, it’s different. Yes, it is different. Really.” The further shock came when I shared that I do not do it in addition to knitting, but I don’t know how to knit at all. My hesitant polite smile was mirrored.
I left a bit perturbed, yet still floating off the thrill of the craft and a sense of pride that I possessed a skill apparently only still in practice among octogenarians. So off to the interenet I search for tote, for shirt, for badge, for mug, for anything to outwardly tell the world, “Yes. I am a Hooker!” And alas, my dear crafty crusaders, I came up empty or at least with sad attempts that did not reflect my fervor.
Oh, but was there ever a knitting community bursting out of it’s belt like a muffin top at a buffet! There were bags and buttons, there were cool shirts with skulls and needles, there were groups, stores, knit grafitti, grandmothers, uncles, priests, dogs, and the entire city of Austin all knit. Knitting was badass. Crochet barely meowed.
Instead of usually eating and watching Arrested Development, Obey Crochet was born (while I ate and kept Arrested Development on in the background). I made my little iron on tote one night and have worn it proudly ever since. I am fueled by being a single hook out alone in the world and snarling at the bubbling social behavior of knittas.
I will advise you my pride may overfloweth, but this is no dis to Knittas (in theory). This is a shout out to all my antisocial hookas. We exist!
Hook on Hookas, hook on,
Hooky Crochet McHookface