I finally found my 'Knitted Garments For The Family' book. I knew I'd left it at my mum's, and every time I went round I'd scrabble furiously through the bookshleves looking for it. KGFTF cost me 50c at the Save the Children book sale last year. It is old enough not to have a publishing date, but I would hazard late 1940s (it doesn't look wartime, nor does it look like Dior's New Look has hit the silouhettes yet).
I love for a whole bunch of reasons. The little 'family' made of balls of yarn with needles stuck in for legs on the cover is only one reason.
The section on knitted homewares at the back (rugs are just like garments for your house. and isn't your house just like one of the family?)
It showcases many crazy stitch patterns otherwise lost in the vestiges of time and the middle of a Barbara Walker book. There are alternate stitch patterns (or necklines, or sleeves, or something) given for every garment so you can individualise. There are gorgeous classic cardigan aplenty.
Then, always good for a giggle, there's the false blouse front, to be worn under a jacket. It's like the front of a jumper, with a band to go round your neck and your waist to keep it on. It took motherly wisdom to explain the reason for the false blouse front was to give the appearance of clothing when one could not afford enough yarn to make a whole garment. Wouldn't want to have to take off your jacket though.
The editor seems to think it's totally reasonable that a woman would knit a long-sleeved, calf length dress entirely in three-ply yarn (that's finer than sock yarn...).
There's the shock and sense of relief that it's a different millenium one gets every time one looks at the 'neat and practical' men's cardigan knit in colours labelled as 'natural' and 'nigger' (no joke).
There's an entire section dedicated to knitted underwear. I can understand that a 'matron' may want a 'vest and pantees set' to keep her warm. But the 'French knickers' mystify me. French knickers sound brief and naughty (bearing in mind the 'sports briefs' cover anything between the the tops of your thighs and your waist). Yet the French knickers are not skimpy and delicious. They are scallop-edged, knitted shorts that go from the true waist to, well, the knee. I have no idea how clothes are supposed to go over the top of them. Not even the 'smart tailored dress for town or country wear' would prevent a terribly defined VPL (somewhere near your kneecaps).

I am queueing up for the opening of the save the children book sale this year in the hope of finding another gem like this.