Latvia #1!

My wife, the master yarn crafter, was watching a video online about Latvian mitten knitting by a woman who had studied the art. 

It would appear that Latvia is especially renowned for its mittens. Who knew?

Well, a lot of people, I guess. Ravelry has a ton of pages devoted to it, and don't even ask about Etsy. And of course there are books, like Lizbeth Upitis's Latvian Mittens: Traditional Designs & Techniques.

As the kiddies would say, It's a THING!

Here are some now!

Of course, that begs the questions: Why mittens? Why Latvia? Why now? 

Flag of Latvia

The CIA World Factbook says that the former Soviet Union republic only has mild winters, and indeed the nation's Environment, Geology and Meteorology Centre confesses to an average winter temperature of about 24 degrees Fahrenheit -- not exactly the Arctic freeze one would associate with the need for the world's finest knit mitts. So it's not a matter of cold-weather survival that has made Latvia #1 in mittens. 

Latvian version of the
foam #1 finger
(artist interpretation)

According to Latvians.com, a site dedicated to Latvians and their culture:

Latvia is famous for the fact that the oldest mittens have been found here by archaeologists. They are estimated to be approximately ten centuries old. The tradition of knitting mittens stems from the cold weather of Northern Europe; although it is worth mentioning that centuries ago mittens played a decorative role as well. By fastening them behind the waistband, they were worn in summer as a bijouterie and adornment. For several centuries they were the main form of gift and endowed with magical significance.

Nowadays Latvian mittens, so diverse in their colours and patterns are still an essential part of our winter clothing. Although there is always the possibility to wear synthetic gloves, the originality, tradition, warmth and sense of Latvia that is knitted into a mitten will be always worth a compliment.

But it isn't just the craftsmanship, even the one-upmanship, that might come from knowing your mittens are better than someone else's that make mittens so important in Latvia. There is also a tradition connected to weddings, according to this Latvian site: 

An ancient Latvian wedding tradition says that unmarried girls have to fill up their hope chests before entering the marriage. It’s an old tradition, that was respected by their mothers and grandmothers, so from early childhood girls were taught to knit, embroider, crochet and sew to be able to fulfill their chests with knits and other handicrafts. Knitted mittens were one of the most important things of the chest and also an indicator of girl’s skills. They represented patience and imagination, because every mitten had to be knitted in a different design using different patterns, otherwise the brides were laughed at. The most lavish chests contained several hundred pairs of hand-knitted mittens. This could not have been done if not the rich and diverse Latvian ethnographic culture. Each pair of mittens has its own story, his own unique pattern and what is most important – each pair of mittens holds his own meaning and comes with it its own wish.

As these mittens were given as a gifts, every girl was trying to do their best and was competing among themselves to create as many as possible creative patterns, color compositions and shades.

That seems to have created an atmosphere as brutal and bloody as one of our more crushing competitive events, like the Super Bowl or the Scripps National Spelling Bee. Can you imagine being a bride and getting laughed at on your wedding day because your mittens suck? 

"Ha! Ha! What is on those mittens, Hello Kitty? Are they from the ostruble store?" 

"You should never know the kiss of true love with mittens like that!"

"We laugh at you, bride! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Think of the pressure! As someone who has the manual dexterity of a left-handed ox, I'm glad I was not born a Latvian girl. My wedding would have gotten more laughs than the Depp-Heard trial. 

So it seems that this is just one of those things. It started out to keep warm, and turned somehow into an important cultural statement, like the shtreimel. I've seen ultraorthodox Jewish men wearing those fur hats in the summer on the Sabbath, and if you ask me, when July rolls around, I'd rather have mittens fastened to my waistband than a fur hat on my head.