Over time, that kind of observation becomes second nature. Before starting a garment, we begin to sense what kind of fabric that yarn needs—denser, more contained, or more open and flexible.

It’s not a fixed rule. It’s judgment.

And that judgment doesn’t appear overnight. It’s built gradually, by observing how materials respond and how they interact with the act of knitting.

Because in the end, knitting is always a conversation between three things: the hand, the structure, and the fiber.

Gauge remains decisive. A more structured fabric holds the weight of the material better. A more open fabric allows the fiber to express itself more freely.

That’s why I insist so much on the swatch.

It’s not just a way to check how many stitches fit into ten centimeters. It’s a way to observe how the yarn behaves in your hands and how it changes after washing.

A swatch anticipates many things: how much the stitch opens up, how much the fabric gives—or not, because it can also shrink—and how the garment will drape once that initial tension is gone.

Sometimes, just holding it in your hands is enough to understand what will happen next.

Over time, this kind of observation becomes second nature. Before starting a garment, we begin to sense what kind of tension that yarn needs, how it should be worked, and which needle will give us the result we’re looking for.

Denser, more contained. Or more open, more flexible.

It’s not a fixed rule. It’s judgment.

And that judgment is built gradually, by observing how materials respond and how they interact with the way we knit.

Because in the end, knitting is always a conversation between the hand, the structure, and the fiber.