My friend from the States (featured here and here) is a crafter, but in a very different way than me.  She loves pretty things and is an ace with a crochet hook (whereas I prefer to stab at things, have never crocheted or made anything remotely wearable, and sometimes I like ugly things). When she visited Tokyo, we found this book:

I begged my friend to buy it — not because I like doilies (actually, I sort of hate doilies), but because 1. it’s a beautiful example of a Japanese craft book and I wanted to share it with you, and 2. if you could bundle my friend’s personality into a book, it might be this book, all flowers and peachy-pink and cashmere yarn. It was meant to be.

My initial unlove for doilies was because they didn’t fulfill my first rule of craft: the things you make should be useful or contribute to the beauty of a useful item. Because seriously, what do you do with a doily?

Apparently you can do a lot of things:

I love that book cover. Psst — hey friend, hint hint. I love that book cover.

I challenged her to finish a doily before she left. She put my challenge to shame and made two. Show off.

She offered to make me one, so I chose the triangle doily. And I love it.

It turns out my new doily is lazy. It lounged on the couch for a week after my friend left. It was being a total couch potato doily. Maybe it was sad to see my friend leave. Or maybe it’s an inanimate object and I need to get some fresh air.

After finding this image,  I’m thinking the doily found a new home. Doily, your purpose in life is clear. You are welcome to stay, as I bind you in chain stitch to my couch.

Image from Apartment Therapy