I saw this via a lengthy succession of links: knit graffiti. Katastrophes? Bascha? Kath? I’m lookin’ at y’all:

One night she went out with another Montrose mom and stitched a pink-and-purple cozy onto a boutique’s door handle. It was an act of artistic defiance, a soft, warm tag in a part of town dominated by aerosol arrogance. Other swaths began appearing on street signs, car antennae and park benches, and word soon got around there was a new crew of taggers in town.

Their noms d’artiste are AKrylik and PolyCotN, but you can call them Knitta.

Later in the article:

“It’s considerate to the victim,” says Poly, rifling through a bag of yarn. “If they don’t like it, they can just unbutton it.”

“It’s not vandalism,” adds AKrylik, fiddling with her baby blanket. “I almost wish there was a little more permanency to it, that it was a little harder to remove.”

On the coffee table is a morass of stockinette coasters and cozies. Each item has a paper tag attached to it, a calling card of sorts, with the message “knitta, please!” or “whaddup knitta?”

This is too brilliant. Too brilliant.