Twist Collective is a knitting magazine, and one unlike just about any other magazine in print. For one thing, you can't really call its genre "print," since the magazine is entirely online. The articles are free, but the patterns are sold by piece, allowing the designers to be paid "royalties" instead of by magazines sold, and the most popular designers and patterns are rewarded more than those less attractive to their audience, the knitters. It's a bit like American Idol; the better a designer's patterns sell, the more likely they are to be in the next issue as well.

This picture is the front page of the most recent issue, and its purpose is the same as any other magazine—to entice the reader to open it. But of course you can’t just have a delightful cover unrelated to anything in the magazine; it must be a reference to something inside. Twist Collective groups their patterns by theme, uses the same setting and model for all the photographs of the one theme, and calls each group a “story,” and the pattern belonging to the cover image occurs in the story “Anastasia in Repose.” The “repose” part of the title is easy—it’s why “Anastasia” is reclining on a chaise lounge instead of, say, sitting on a sofa chatting with friends. But Anastasia has a number of connotations beyond being simply a girl’s name—when I hear it, I think about Russia, and in particular one of the daughters of the last Czar, Nicholas II, and the incredible opulence in which the royal family lived. What do you think when you hear Anastasia? Whatever you personally think, it likely evokes an exotic air—far more so than the more common English derivative of Stacy.

Knitters who are obsessed enough to know about the Twist Collective probably do not need tricks to focus their attention on the sweater (some knitters may spend the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics watching for cool sweaters and hats and consider going to a movie just because the main character wears a really cool knitted vest—the ninja denies all allegations of this behavior), but the composition is directly and masterfully composed to draw attention to it anyway. The sweater is in the right third of the photo, using the rule of thirds, and the model is arranged on the diagonal across the photo. As a matter of fact, the stylist/photographer used the diagonals to reinforce the languor and luxurious feeling of the whole piece. And despite the rich fabrics and colors used as backdrop, they are all dark blue, deep red and golden brown—all colors that harmonize beautifully with the vibrant purple sweater, but that also do not at all compete visually.

It all adds up to a classic “lifestyle sell”—that is, if you buy this yarn, this pattern, and knit this sweater, you too will have a life of leisure, where you lounge on couches and stare off into space. Furthermore, you will have a perfect figure, looking elegant in your fabulous skirt and sweater that suits your perfect figure perfectly. An element of selling the lifestyle is the tendency of people to place themselves absolutely into what they see—so, for example, if a garment is pictured in a color they don’t like, they will never even consider buying the pattern, much less knitting it, and a similar rule holds in buying clothes from a catalog.

I have to admit, in my first reaction, I fell and hard for the lifestyle sell. My first unconscious thought was, I want to be her. My second, because I am cynical, was, that’s a beautiful advertisement—it does exactly what it intends. There was no way, after seeing that photo, even after recognizing the hook, that I was not going to click the button to see the next page, and I frankly skimmed, looking for the story and the pattern from the cover.

It is easy for me to identify with the model in the photo, but there are subtle discordances between the picture and my image of myself. Obviously, since the sweater is designed for a female anatomy, I am either female or a cross-dresser. (I am a ninja—I do not admit which is the actual case.) I typically wear jeans—I love skirts, but they aren’t practical most of the time since my bike is my transportation on campus and around town; I rarely even wear slacks, because wide-legged pants can catch on the gearwheel spikes, and I have had some embarrassing incidents in which I caught the leg of boot cut jeans on my bike seat. Further details are omitted to preserve the dignity of the ninja. In any case, even if I could figure out a way to ride my bike while wearing a skirt, silver would be the last color I would pick for winter riding, since winter in the Midwestern US means wet—before you could say, “Yeehaw,” I would have mud on the hem, and if I was forced to ride through large puddles (and let’s be honest, here—roads around Ninja Central, USA basically turn into canals when it’s rainy) my skirt’s, erm, posterior area would soon be smirched with the very luxurious grayish brown of muddy road-grime.

I also, curiously enough, don’t identify with the style portrayed in the photo, even though it is profoundly attractive to me. My decorating style, when you can actually see enough of my desk to identify such a thing, is very minimalist. Okay, it’s minimalist once you’ve moved the papers and books and knitting. And pens. And maybe my style is more “cluttered,” but in an ideal world, I love minimalism. I don’t do black, gray and silver minimalism, though—I am all about color! Even though I’m a ninja. I’m more of a wear-green-and-pink ninja than a wear-solid-black one.

Anyway, this photo really appeals to my inner diva and never-met-a-color-I-didn’t-like sense, with its opulent colors, velvets, satins and raw silks, while the sweater itself appeals to my inner minimalist, with its elegant, thin lines of ropy cables. It’s an interesting contrast, no?