"After 43 Years, I'm Putting Down My Needles" — Ruby (66) Knits the Last of Her Icelandic Cardigans
Ruby Whitlock, 66, is casting off for the last time — letting go of the hand-knitted Icelandic cardigans she's made beside Jarah's South Yarra shop for over four decades. As the shop closes after 43 years, every cardigan sold helps, and 10% goes to the Royal Flying Doctor Service.
South Yarra, Melbourne. The little back room behind the shop smells of lanolin and eucalyptus, and of the tea that's always going cold on the windowsill. On the wall, a faded photograph from 1971: a young woman on the deck of a ship, wrapped in a heavy patterned jumper, grinning into a cold northern wind. That was Ruby, twenty-four, on her way home from a year in Iceland. "A woman named Sigrún taught me the yoke — that ring of colour around the shoulders," Ruby says, running a thumb over a finished collar. "I've been knitting it ever since. Fifty years, near enough."
How It All Began
When Jarah opened her doors on Chapel Street in 1983, Ruby was one of her first regulars — and before long, one of her quietest secrets. In the back room, between customers, Ruby kept knitting: a small run of hand-made Icelandic cardigans, sold only to the women who asked. "It was never really a business," she laughs. "It was just something my hands wouldn't stop doing." Each design she named after a woman she knew — Vera, Ella, Ava, and, yes, one after herself.
Forty-Three Years at the Needles
What makes an Icelandic cardigan is the yoke — the band of colour-work knitted round the shoulders, one loop at a time, never by machine. Ruby learned to knit hers so the little diamonds and flowers sit even all the way round, so the wool holds its warmth without weight. "People think it's the pattern," she says. "It's not. It's the tension in your hands. That takes years."
What Makes These Cardigans So Special
- Hand-knitted, never machine-made: Every cardigan is knitted by hand, stitch by stitch — no two are ever quite identical.
- The real Icelandic yoke: The colour-work band around the shoulders is knitted in the traditional lopapeysa way, in soft, warm wool.
- Warm without the weight: Knitted to hold heat the way only real wool can, light enough to wear all day.
- Made to be handed down: Buttoned, reinforced and finished by hand so it lasts for decades, not seasons.
- Only 20 designs remaining: Nine of Ruby's designs have already sold out. Once the last 20 are gone, they're gone for good.
The Women Who Kept Coming Back
Ruby keeps a tin of letters on the workroom shelf — notes and photographs from women who've worn her cardigans for years. She pulls out a card, postmarked 2018 from a customer in Ballarat:
"That's the whole reason I kept going," Ruby says. "Not the selling. The letters."
Why Now, After 43 Years
"My hands aren't what they were," Ruby says, setting down a half-finished sleeve. "Arthritis. I can manage an hour of the fine yoke-work now, maybe two on a good day — it used to be a whole afternoon." The eyes have gone the same way; the little diamonds are hard to hold in focus under the lamp.
And the shop itself is closing. After 43 years, the lease on Chapel Street is up, and Jarah has decided it's time. There's no drama in it — no scandal, no fire sale gone wrong — just the quiet end of a long chapter. Clearing out the last of Ruby's cardigans is one small, personal way to close it well.
The Last of Ruby's Designs
★★★★★Each one named after a woman Ruby knew — nine already sold out, twenty left to find a home
★★★★★Join 2,300+ women across Australia who've already brought one of Ruby's cardigans home
What Customers Are Saying
"It's the warmest thing I own and the only cardigan anyone ever asks me about. I feel like I'm wearing something real."
Margaret D., 61 — Geelong, VIC"I've had mine three winters now. Washed it a hundred times, still holds its shape. You can tell it's made by hand."
Christine W., 58 — Bendigo, VIC"Bought the green one for my 60th. Silly to say a cardigan makes you happy, but here we are. My sister wants one too."
Robyn T., 60 — Adelaide, SA
Where to Find Ruby's Cardigans
Ruby's Icelandic cardigans are only available through Jarah Melbourne, from the same shop the two of them have shared for 43 years. Once the last twenty are gone, this collection won't be knitted again.
To be upfront: these aren't the cheapest cardigans you'll find. A machine-made acrylic one from a chain store will always cost less — and if that's all you're after, that's a perfectly fair choice. This one is for people who want something actually made by hand, small imperfections and all, and don't mind paying a little more for it. If that's not you, no hard feelings.
Ruby's Personal Guarantee
30-Day Money-Back Guarantee. "I only want these going to women who'll actually love them," Ruby says. Wear it for 30 days — if it isn't right, send it back for a full refund, no questions asked.
Up to 70% off — and the more you take home, the more you save
Every cardigan is now $59.99, down from as much as $200.95. Take more than one and the bundle discount comes off automatically at checkout — one for you, one already wrapped for someone you love.
Save up to 70% · 10% of every sale to the RFDS · 20 designs left
The Internet Loves Ruby's Cardigans
"Popped into the shop on Chapel Street before it closes — the little back room is like another era, wool everywhere. Bought two on the spot."
Helen M., 64 — Melbourne, VIC"My mum saw mine on a video call and ordered hers within the hour. Now I understand why."
Susan K., 55 — Hobart, TAS"Knowing 10% goes to the Flying Doctors made it an easy yes. And it's genuinely the nicest knit I own."
Denise P., 62 — Toowoomba, QLDOnly This Season — Then It's Over
Ruby expects to close up the workroom for good within the next few weeks. There's no next batch coming, no restock in six months — once the last twenty cardigans sell, this collection is done. Between the closing-sale price and the last of the winter interest, what's left is expected to go well before then.
Closing Thought
It's the kind of cardigan you don't just fold away in a drawer. Every one carries a bit of a cold Icelandic winter, a bit of a back room off Chapel Street, and forty-three years of two women who kept something handmade alive a little longer than anyone expected.
— Claire Donnelly, for The Wool Room Journal 🧶