Mr. Garter has long had a Favorite Sock. It was given to him roughly five years ago, and he pronounced it the finest sock in the land and measured all other socks against it. Meanwhile, he rejected offers of handknit socks from his fiancée-wife. Notice I speak of the übersock in the singular: it lost its mate after only a few wearings, but could never been thrown out because of its peerlessness. It moved with us from one apartment to another in Manhattan and then to Portland. I think it was before that last move, when we were admitting to each other the stupidity of carting around a seven-quart stock pot’s worth of single socks (although they’re useful in packing: you can stuff box corners with them or even dress your drinking glasses in them), that I finally took a careful look at the übersock and realized that I could knit it a mate. It was machine knit, but I had to turn it inside out and find a sewn seam at the toe to tell. It has a nice tubular cast on and short-row heels and toes, but it’s a pretty basic ribbed wool sock. So we kept it.

Fast forward to the fall of 2007. I finally stumbled across a tweed sock yarn that was a decent match (I hadn’t been looking all that hard): Regia Tweed 4-Ply. I bought some in a creamy white and a horsey brown, counted stitches on the original and made a guess at the needle size, and was off and knitting in plenty of time to finish my reproduction sock for Mr. G’s birthday at the end of November. I gave it to him, but hadn’t woven in the ends because I wanted to make sure it fit comfortably. It did. He was delighted.

So this week I wove in the ends.

Ãœbersock at left, reproduction at right. Look, it’s got cat hair on it already.

Mr. G can walk like an Egyptian…

… and can almost still twist himself into a reasonable first position. Remind me to tell you sometime about how he took ballet with eight-year-old girls when we were in college. (I guess I just did.) I love a sense of adventure in a man, don’t you?

He’s already worn them three times.

* The kind of reproduction that doesn’t involve making babies. I didn’t even think of that sense of the word until I’d already posted this, dudes.