We made it to our 50th episode, so what keeps us going? In a word, YOU. From our listeners to invited guests, to family members who helped with tech and made suggestions--to everyone who graced us with their time, support and expertise, we want to say THANK YOU. And that's why we are offering a great giveaway--two of Debie Frable's Skellie Kits will be awarded to two randomly selected subscribers to our newsletter--if you don't subscribe, it's easy to sign up through our website bootieandbossy.com. Please subscribe by October 7th, 2025 to be entered into the drawing. Thank you, Debie, for providing the fabulous Skellie kits!

"What is the meaning of life? That was all--a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one."

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

When we first embarked on this great podcast adventure, we had no idea how meaningful it would become, offering us a series of "little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck in the dark," as Virginia Woolf wrote in her novel, To the Lighthouse. Woolf herself was an avid knitter and wrote to her husband in 1912 that "Knitting is the saving of life." Her sister Vanessa Bell even painted a portrait of her knitting quietly in a chair. The opportunity to connect with others, hear their stories and learn tidbits of history (like the whereabouts of Napoleon's penis . . . ) and share our mistakes and missteps as well as those little daily miracles, has propelled us through 50 episodes. Along the way listeners in 44 of the 50 states (time to step up, you knitters in Utah, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Wyoming, Montana and North Dakota!) and in 17 countries abroad have joined us.

And a good drink has helped too--try our celebratory Kir Royal--a nice glass of sparkling white wine with a splash of liquor. And then grab your pointed sticks and tune in to hear us reminisce because, well, like Mom setting off to marry Dad, we "thought that would be fun," and frankly, that's as good a reason as any to do anything.

Bare Female Shoulders, Oh My! Flapping through the 1920s in Bootie and Bossy's Episode 49!

Why, why, why do men care so much about what women wear? Oh right, because they want to control women, but Irene Castle did not let the condemnation of Pope Pius and other religious leaders stop her from bobbing her hair and baring her shoulders. As a result, Castle was blamed for everything from broken engagements to wrecked homes, according to Anne Macdonald in No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting. But this was the roaring 20s, the era of the Flappers, when women emerged from World War I empowered by new economic opportunity, and they said hello to voting and goodbye to old fashion, especially the corset. Now women were finally free to breath and move, or in Irene Castle's case, dance. Despite the liberation, Flapper fashion had some downsides--like constant dieting to get the boyish figure that looked good in the new, clingy tube knits. With rising hemlines and plunging necklines, it also ushered in the practice of women shaving their armpits and legs. That practice is still with us. Thanks.

Everyone was so tired of knitting socks for the war, many turned to more decorative needlework like embroidery, but wool companies fought hard to keep knitting on the national radar by sponsoring contests with top prizes running as high as $2000. And knitting was still known for calming the nerves, as First Lady Grace Coolidge explained while sailing on the Presidential yacht, the Mayflower:

"Many a time when I have to hold myself firmly, I have taken up my needle. It might be a sewing needle, knitting needles, or a crochet hook—whatever its form or purposes, it often proved to be the needle of the compass, keeping me to the course."

Grace Coolidge, quoted in Macdonald, No Idle Hands, p. 243.

It’s not only the knitting that centers us though—the wearing of a beautiful, hand-knit garment brings a special joy, as Bossy recently discovered when wearing the Goldwing sweater that Bootie gifted her after three months of repeated badgering. It was worth it—this is just the best thing, and look, no bare shoulders! Certain popes might even approve--oh wait, we don't care.

So join us for some good flapping about knitting then and now, and a great recipe for Vietnamese Chicken, compliments of Michele Lee Bernstein!

Let's set the scene: America at the beginning of the 20th Century, and despite their suffocating corsets that created the prized Gibson Girl physique, women are on the move, literally--they are fishing, biking, golfing, playing tennis and riding in those new automobiles. And there's a war raging between the Suffragists fighting for Women's rights, and the Anti-Suffragists who think it's enough that women are queens of the domestic sphere. What are their weapons? Pointed sticks--specifically knitting needles. According to Anne Macdonald's No Idle Hands: The Social History of Knitting, knitting for the Suffragists was exactly the kind of thing keeping women in chains, quiet, silent and occupied in the home. For Haryot Cahoon, a "forward woman" Suffragist, real women don't knit, and it's time to drop all those stitches and do something important:

"A vast amount of drudgery is sugar coated with economy . . . If you wish to knit lace because you have more time on your hands than you know what to do with, you are the very one the world needs, with your youth and your energy and your industrious spirit . . . [Don't] puzzle your brain over 'knit one, skip one, purl one, drop one.' Drop them all! That's best!"

Haryot Cahoon, quoted in Anne Macdonald's No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting, p. 181.

The "Antis" or Anti-Suffragists were quick to characterize their opponents as "a sisterhood of cranks who wear grey woolen underwear and number seven shoes and whose skirt and waist don't meet in the back" (Macdonald, p. 178). Knitting wasn't drudgery--it was magic for the Antis, "mysteriously 'feminine,' a bit of sorcery beyond the mere ken of males" (p. 182). The battle ended with a real war--World War I, where once again every woman, and yes, even man and child, picked up their pointed sticks to "Knit For Sammy" and save the world, or at least a lot of American feet. Even the "Rocky Mountain Knitter Boys" of Mapleton, Colorado stopped throwing spitballs for a while and declared "Knitting's the best thing ever to steady your nerves" (p. 235).

We are glad to say goodbye to corsets, but we are grateful to the Suffragists for our rights and to the Anti-Suffragists who kept the magic of knitting alive--we'll take our rights with our knitting, thank you. We want the freedom to do what we want--whether that's knitting or making Michele Lee Bernstein's fabulous Lemon Orzo Pasta Salad, or something else. We say, do what you want! That's best!