Mint Ring · Handmade 1960s-70s Crochet Baby Cardigan
fine acrylic/wool blend · handmade crochet · plastic buttons · 1960s-70s · 29cm length flat · approx. newborn-3 months · excellent condition
Three small ring-shaped buttons close the front of this mint green cardigan, plain white plastic against candy-bright yarn, the kind of understated choice that lets the colour do the talking.
No label survives, typical of a piece made at home rather than bought. The open shell-stitch crochet, ring buttons, and generous flare through the body all echo other unsigned crochet baby pieces from the 1960s and 70s, when this kind of quick, practical baby knitwear was made.
The body flares out considerably from a narrow chest to a wide hem, cut generously to move easily over a nappy rather than sit close to the body. Short set-in sleeves, a shallow round neckline, and a soft scalloped edge finishing the hem.
Material
Feels like a fine acrylic/wool-blend yarn. Plastic ring buttons.
Care
Hand wash in cool water and dry flat, out of direct sun to keep the colour bright. Cool iron only if needed, avoiding the buttons.
More on looking after vintage pieces in our care guide.
Size
Measured flat: 29cm length, 23cm across the bust laid flat, flaring to 28cm at the waist and 32cm at the hem so it moves easily over a nappy. Sleeves are 22cm long with a 7cm cuff, and the neckline sits a shallow 2cm deep. Reads as roughly newborn to 3 months.
Our size guide explains how vintage sizing is read here.
Condition
Excellent. The mint is bright and even with no fading, no holes, no pilling, and all three buttons are present and secure.
Our condition lexicon explains the grades we use.
Before it reaches you
Someone loved this before you did, and I try to honour that properly. Each piece is hand washed, or cleaned in the way that the fabric permits, then steamed until it softens and straightens and feels newly attended to. Wherever a button was missing, it has been replaced with a vintage one from my long-kept collection. Wherever a hem had given way, I fix it by hand. By the time it leaves this room it is genuinely clean, pressed, whole, and looked over one final time before I let myself believe it is ready. Not restored. Not made new. Just returned to a state where it can be loved again, by someone who was not there the first time.
A small, cheerful piece of work, the sort of thing made quickly and without fuss for a baby who would outgrow it in a season. The flare through the body was a practical decision dressed up as a design one, room to move, room for a nappy, room to be a baby in.