Subtly Subversive: Is Crochet Gen Z’s Answer to Punk?
My uni house is currently filled with wool. Strands littering the floors, balls unwinding on every surface; wool weaves its way into the living room carpet, the sofa cushions, the bath mat. I can’t escape it. I sat down to watch the telly the other day and heard a sickening crack – hiding beneath the tangle of blankets was a glittery, plastic crochet hook, now snapped clean in two. A few months ago my housemates came home from town, proudly showing off their new crochet magazines and balls of yarn, and as they say, the rest is history. Every evening I’m flanked on either side by my crocheting housemates. A jumper for a friend's cat, a scarf in a particularly bright shade of “Lemon Pie”; the list goes on. Lavender Frost, Razzleberry, Hedgehog Party – the shades become wackier with every delivery from Wool Warehouse (this is not an ad, but a warning; by this stage there is no going back).
My housemates are not alone. They're part of a much larger trend of young people getting into traditional handicrafts, in what WGSN are calling a “creative renaissance”. In fact, according to the Crafts Council UK, the demographic of crafters has significantly shifted since the pandemic, with under 35s now comprising the largest percentage of crafty consumers. Even my Instagram feed has cottoned on; a quick scroll offers How-Tos for “preppy gingham” crochet vests, #autumn-ankle-warmers, and patchwork coats sewn from vintage quilts. What was once the domain of grannies and ‘old dears’ is now one of the biggest crazes among young people, and the key ingredient to Gen Z’s fashion? Make it yourself.
So just what is it about these traditional handicrafts that are drawing us all back in?
While the crafting trend is certainly not new, the big boom can be traced back to the pandemic – in April 2020, Google searches for terms like “crochet” and “sewing” skyrocketed worldwide, as people turned to crafts to keep them busy during lockdown. According to Google Trends, the search term “sewing” saw over a 190% increase worldwide between March and April 2020, whilst in the UK “crochet” has been on a steady incline in the last five years. On TikTok alone, the #crochet tag has amassed 13.3 billion views. In a time of endless scrolling, stuck between four walls for months on end with not much else to do, young people were replacing the iPhone in their hands with yarn and a crochet hook. The following year, the crafting trend was once again placed under the world spotlight at the Tokyo Olympics, as Olympic diver Tom Daley was captured knitting a Team GB cardigan in the stands, a process he documented on his Instagram, @madewithlovebytomdaley.
A little closer to home, I resisted the urge to stage an intervention and instead sat down with my housemates to learn a little more about their crochet obsessions. Kami described to me the sense of achievement and “boost of serotonin” that comes with completing a project, and explained that the physical, repetitive process is a great form of stress relief (we don’t talk about the accompanying repetitive strain injury.) Sitting down for an hour to start on the next granny square becomes a form of meditation – a chance to step away from uni work and the worries of everyday life, and focus completely on the yarn. She laughs and tells me she’s beginning to feel like someone’s grandmother.
But while it might just seem like a wholesome, colourful form of self-expression, there’s a subtly subversive side to the crafting trend.
We live in an age of NFTs and AI generated art, a culture where trends are changing by the week and anything seems possible at the click of a button; from snapping and sharing a quick photograph, to ordering cheap clothes from a fast fashion brand. Perhaps what these traditional crafts offer us is not only a chance to slow down, but to subtly rebel against a destructive culture of overconsumption. When it takes weeks - if not months - to craft a new item, that item becomes much more valuable. Throwing away a jumper that you spent so many hours making is a lot harder than chucking out the one you bought for a tenner in an ASOS flash sale.
We’re all becoming more aware of the environmental and ethical issues of fast-fashion, and as such an increasing number of young people are turning to sustainable brands, charity shops and second-hand marketplace apps. Of course, following in the footsteps of previous generations, the DIY fashion movement opens up vast possibilities for both creative self-expression and political engagement. From the teddy boys of the 50s to the punks of the 70s, iconic fashion subcultures have often emerged in reaction to austerity, class conflict, and an alienating culture of consumerism. Punk fashion was characterised by a DIY approach; garments were deliberately torn, stained and painted, accessorised with bin bags, safety pins and bondage straps. A nihilistic aesthetic reflecting a nihilistic mindset, fashion became a form of resistance: the more outrageous the better. I’ll admit, knitted cardigans and pastel granny squares don’t seem to have a lot in common with the leathers and chains donned by the punks, but perhaps they’re more closely related than we think.
Indeed, the use of crafts for political commentary and activism – or Craftivism, a term coined by Betsy Greer in her 2008 book Knitting for Good – has a long history that can be traced back to the punks, the Suffragettes and beyond. Crafts, from knitting and crochet to sewing and embroidery, have traditionally been associated with domestic femininity. Watch any Victorian period drama and there’s bound to be a scene where the women sit in their enormous skirts doing their needlework - a lesser form of art more suitable for the “weaker” and “less intellectual” female mind. Needlework and crafting have become a recognized symbol of female oppression, and one that artists and activists have been reclaiming for years. From the textiles protest banners of the Suffragettes to the AIDS Memorial Quilt produced by Lesbian and Gay Rights activists in the 80s, the current craft renaissance builds on this wider context of Craftivism. One of the most recognizable examples of this in recent years has to be the bubble-gum pink “Pussyhats”, which became a symbol of the global Women’s Marches following Trump’s election in 2016. Anyone paying a shred of attention to the news at the time will have seen the sea of pink occupying streets all over the world, as people protested against misogyny and sexual harassment.
My housemates might not be looking to start a revolution with their crochet creations anytime soon, but there is certainly more to Gen Z’s handmade sweater-vests than first meets the eye – and who knows, maybe one of these days I’ll cave in and pick up a pair of knitting needles myself.