There are chunky knits, and then there are CHUNKY KNITS. Olie Designs’ Amy Stewart has just hoisted her knitting needles out of her bag, and rest assured, these are not the dainty little devices your Aunt Mildred used to pull out in front of the TV.

The giant, pointy white-plastic tubes look to be several inches in diameter—a bit larger than your average turkey baster. And no surprise: the wraps and scarves she’s creating with them don’t look like the delicate yellow-acrylic sweaters Grandma was crafting either.

“I love fashion, and I love bulky knits,” Stewart enthuses, surrounded by balls of yarn and sitting in the studio where she knits and pearls to the tunes on her iPod. While she admits she uses her grandmother’s old chair, the work she does could not be further from the styles of past generations.

“There’s a look of warmth to it—each piece is different and the yarn isn’t perfect. There’s this skinny-fat thing,” she says, fingering the naturally mismatched loops on a voluminous moss-green shawl.

This fall, when it comes to knitwear, bigger is definitely better. And two local, self-taught designers are leading a trend that’s appealing because of its charismatic imperfections and the cocooning feel of pieces that could only be handmade.

A few years ago, Olie’s Stewart was a child-and-youth worker when she first took up the craft as a hobby. “A friend taught me how to knit, and I made a scarf that grew into a big triangle,” she says. “It became a complete stress release. My job was so fun but so stressful. ”

By the fall of 2007, she had given up her work to launch her line. For inspiration, she looked back to her childhood growing up in a cozy cabin at 108 Mile House—an image that finds its way onto the illustration that emblazons her labels today.

“The name Olie is from a dog I had when I was a little girl; he was a big, fuzzy Norwegian elkhound,” she explains. “When I grew up I was always freezing. I always had cold hands and cold feet, and I always wanted to warm them up. So there was always the dog, the cabin, and the fireplace.”

As far as her designs, Stewart wanted big, simple pieces that people could put on without looking in the mirror. That idea gave rise to hefty wraps set off by handcrafted leather buttons (by studio mate and Bronsino purse designer Denise Wilson) that can fasten through the loose holes of the large weave.

Created from both alpaca and sheep’s wool, this season’s styles include tiny-yet-chunky scarves that fasten like chic asymmetrical collars; engulfing shawls made with and without a hood; toques with little bows made from reclaimed leather; and elbow-length wrist-warmers.

All come in Olie’s trademark rich hues, like chocolate, purple, and turquoise, as well as black and warm honey. (Prices range from $60 for the smallest scarves up to $160 for a hoodie shawl or $220 for a big alpaca shawl. Available at stores including Favourite [Lonsdale Quay], Dream [311 West Cordova Street], Twigg & Hottie [3671 Main Street], the Velvet Room [2248 West 41st Avenue], Bernstein & Gold [1168 Hamilton Street], and Gigi B. [1663 Duranleau Street, Granville Island, as well as the Portobello West market the last Sunday of the month at the Rocky Mountaineer Station.)

In Larry designer Terri Potratz’s case, when she couldn’t find a bulky, oversized scarf last fall, she decided to take up knitting and make one herself. She found herself at a knitting retreat in Pemberton, finishing her masterpiece. “It was me and a friend and, like, all these middle-aged women who were avid knitters,” she enthuses, sitting in a café downstairs from her Powell Street studio. “We were at a hotel and we just sat in the lobby knitting. It took about 12 hours in total to make.”

When she wore her 10-foot-long creation, people would stop her to ask where she bought it. “A lot of times it was just the sheer size of it: people would say, ‘Wow. I’ve never seen a scarf that big!’ ”

At the same time, Potratz had met a woman in the Cariboo who was raising alpacas. “Alpaca wool is much softer than sheep’s wool; it’s seven times warmer and it doesn’t contain lanolin, which is what affects most people with wool allergies,” Stewart explains. “I said, ‘If I’m going to start this business, I want to use someone I know—someone I can support here.’ ”

Each spring, a shearer comes to the ranch, removes the creatures’ fleece, and then puts it into bags labelled with each animal’s name—meaning Potratz can pass along the name of each beast to the buyer. She has the fleece specially milled at a small co-op on Salt Spring Island, using no dyes or harsh detergents. The properties of each bag of fleece dictates the way the mill spins the fibres, Potratz says. “It’s very organic, in a way. I can never really predict what they’ll look like,” she says. “It’s like Christmas every time a new box arrives.”

The animals also dictate the natural hues that characterize Larry designs: soft colours range from creams to grey, black, and nut browns. Her styles are known for giant, swingy tassles and ridgy weaves.

This fall’s creations include the long Ridge Shawl, a giant loop that can hang like a long cowl, spread chicly across the shoulders, or be pulled up as a hood; a shorter Amity Scarf with long tassles; a guys’ Elmer Scarf with a leather hook-toggle by local designer Ken Diamond; and a chunky Waldo Cowl that looks great as a neck warmer or a hood. (Prices range from about $60 to $65 for neck warmers up to $120 for cowls, $200 for scarves, and $600 for her 10-foot, made-to-order scarves. Available at Portobello markets all fall and the East Side Culture Crawl from November 21 to 23.)

As for knitting needles, like the sweater and scarf styles this season, bigger is better for Potratz, too. “The ones I use right now are 25 millimetres and I’m looking into having a friend’s husband who does woodwork custom-make me ones that are even larger,” she says.