I am wearing a jumper that is unravelling. Knitted with black chenille yarn, it is soft, light and completely synthetic; it comforts me.
It is also looking untidy, as loops of the yarn become snagged on various things in the house. Perhaps I will use a crochet hook to weave the loops to the inside, so I don’t look like a wild woman who doesn’t care for her clothes. Perhaps.
A few decades ago, I knitted a cardigan with chenille yarn. While it was soft, it did not stretch. Knitting with it was hard work. My fingers were so sore from that knitting. Finishing the project was a triumph of my perseverance and I was soothed by the feeling of the softness wrapped around me. I swore, though, I would never knit with chenille again. I wonder what happened to that cardigan?