Capstan — where it appears
Named by 28 essays across 6 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
How a tuft is held
A V-fastened tuft and a W-fastened tuft are both attached, and the integrity criterion returns the same verdict for both. One of them is specified for hotel corridors and the other sheds. What separates them is not a topological property at all — it is an angle, and it needs a coefficient somebody has to measure.
The ratchet that makes wool felt
A wool fibre is covered in scales pointing one way, so it slides more easily root-first than tip-first. Agitate it and the motion is symmetric while the result is not — every cycle nets a displacement in one direction, and no amount of further agitation undoes it.
Every crossing is a force
A thread arrives at a crossing at an angle and leaves at its negative, so the two pulls have transverse parts that add. The force pressing one thread onto another is twice the tension times the sine of the weave angle — and for an ordinary sheeting that is more than the tension in the thread itself.
A thread is held one crossing at a time
Grip a thread over a length of cloth and its resistance to being pulled out rises with that length, because it is held at every crossing it makes. Its own breaking load does not rise at all. The two curves cross, and the length at which they cross turns out to be a seam allowance, a frayed edge and a tuft's anchorage — three rules of thumb with one number under them.
A thread is gripped where it turns
The arithmetic this site has used for fraying, seam slippage and tuft anchorage counts every crossing a thread makes as a grip and adds them up. A thread lying flat on the surface of a satin presses on nothing at all, and a thread that is gripped is gripped by a friction that compounds along its length rather than adding. Both corrections were recorded as missing and both are here.
What holds a pick in
A plain weave grips its weft by the crimp, and the crimp's wrap angle falls towards nothing as the cloth opens out. A leno crossing is half a turn whatever the sett. So the comparison has an exact answer that does not depend on the friction coefficient at all — and no plain weave can ever reach a leno's grip.
What holds a thread in a seam
A seam fails in two quite different ways, and the one the trade worries about is not the stitches breaking. It is the cloth's own threads sliding out of the weave beside the seam — and what resists that is friction at the crossings, accumulating multiplicatively, so a satin gives a seam a thousandth of the grip a plain weave gives it.
The criterion cannot see friction
This site's central check is exact, decidable in linear time, and structurally incapable of distinguishing a carpet from a fabric that sheds. That is not a defect to be repaired — a separation exists or it does not, and there is no margin in it — and the fancy weaves are precisely the constructions that live in the gap.
A tear stops where the grip is
This collection asked whether a loose weave tears better and had to answer that the geometry could not say — it supplies a grip count and a slack, and neither is a force. The fancy weaves brought a friction. With it the question has an answer — a cloth's threads slide up to a computable sett and break above it — and a ripstop grid has a bound with no free parameter in it.
What holds a tuft in, in newtons
The pile ladder computed a tuft's anchorage as a capstan ratio and said, correctly, that a ratio was all it could offer. A ratio multiplies a tension and there was no tension anywhere on this site. There is one now — and the answer, put beside what a carpet is actually specified at, falls short by a factor of three.
The criterion gets a force
This site's integrity criterion decides exactly whether a draft describes one cloth, and has one standing limitation: it says a tuft bound under one pick and a tuft bound under three are both attached, and it is right, and one of those is a carpet while the other sheds. What separates them needs a normal force in a fabric that is not under tension — the number the rung that computed it recorded as unavailable, and the one a thickness gauge now supplies.
How far a cut edge frays
A seam allowance, a fray width and a tuft's bound length are the same number wearing three hats, and the earlier estimate of it was four times too long. Correcting it moves the whole table across the boundary an ordinary allowance sits on — from four cloths holding and four slipping, to all eight holding — and turns a specification argument into a different one.
The relaxed cloth's contact force
How hard two threads press on each other in a cloth that is not being pulled is the number this site's own integrity criterion has needed since its first essays, and the route to it was an elastica nobody had. A thickness gauge supplies it instead — because a cloth's thickness is a record of how flat its threads are, and how flat they are is a record of how hard they are pressed.
A float presses on nothing
The rung below expected the float correction to change how a satin's hold compares with a plain weave's, by something like the ratio of their interlacing rates. It does not change the comparison at all — the interlacing rate leaves the answer outside the logarithm and divides straight out of any ratio. What it changes is the absolute answer, by a factor of four, for every weave alike.
A chenille is a yarn that is already a fabric
A chenille yarn is a woven gauze cut into strips. Every structural question this collection asks about cloth can be asked about it — does it hang together, how many systems has it, what holds the pile in — and the answers are the same answers one level down.
What grips the end of a fibre
A twisted yarn squeezes itself, and the squeeze holds the fibre ends in. Write the slip and the break out side by side and the fibre's own strength cancels — and so does the load on the yarn — leaving a gripped length that depends on fineness, friction and the twist and on nothing else.
Why a knit runs and a weave frays
The two fabrics fail in two ways and everybody knows which is which. This collection has described both accurately for eighteen phases without being able to say what causes them, and the cause turns out to be one integer each: nought for a cloth, one per wale for a knit.
A fabric is a population of contacts
Only a fifth of a knitted fabric's yarn is inside a diameter of its neighbour. So a fabric's friction lives in a fifth of its length, and every calculation this collection makes about withdrawal, slippage and fraying has assumed it lives everywhere.
A jacquard harness needs three half-spans of height
A jacquard has no front shaft and no back one, so every end takes the same shed — as long as every cord hangs straight. Across the width they cannot: the hooks sit in a machine a few tens of centimetres wide and the comber board is as wide as the cloth, so an edge cord leans and its mail rises by the difference of two hypotenuses rather than by the hook's lift. Holding the edge shed within five per cent of the centre's takes a fall of about three times the edge cord's sideways reach, and that is a height a room has to have.
A force is what an energy does when a crossing moves
The force a thread presses its neighbour with is the rate its bending energy changes as the crossing is displaced. Solved as a constrained minimisation, that number arrives with the shape rather than after it — and the same force, recovered a second time from the curve's own equilibrium, agrees to a tenth of a per cent.
The doup end pays for the crossing
A leno holds its picks because its doup end crosses under its partner and comes up on the other side — half a turn at every crossing, whatever the sett. That half turn is also a length. When 0.25 mm ends cross every millimetre, the doup end travels 22.5 per cent further than its partner: twenty-two metres of extra warp over a hundred-metre piece, and a shared beam a pick short within four and a half millimetres of cloth. The extra falls with the square of the crossing interval, which is why a leno is woven from two beams and its crossings are spaced as far apart as the cloth allows.
An easer gives back the kink the crossed shed puts in
A leno loom gives its crossing ends slack at every crossed shed, and the obvious reason — the doup carrying its end sideways — is worth a hundredth of an ordinary shed. The length is one heddle further back. In the crossed shed the doup lifts the end on the far side of its partner while the end's own back heddle, a few shafts behind, holds it down, and between those two eyes the end climbs eleven centimetres in six and a half. On a loom that stretches an ordinary end 0.46 per cent, that is 5.85 per cent — nearly thirteen times as much — and no position of the back heddle takes it below four.
What nothing separates comes out together
The doubled family's interlacing rate has a closed form — half the sum of the two groupings' reciprocals — so a seam's grip on its own threads is the exponential of a harmonic mean, and it saturates in each grouping separately. At a ten-millimetre allowance a 2/2 hopsack holds a thread at seventy-four times the applied tension and a 1/4 warp rib at two hundred and eighteen, on cloths whose firmness differs by an eighth.
A knot is nothing but contact
A knot has no fastening in it. Nothing is glued, hooked, sewn or threaded through a hole: a thread is bent round itself until the friction where it presses on itself is more than the load. That makes a knot the purest contact problem in the subject, and the place to look first for what contact does.
Where a knot breaks
It breaks at the entry, before the knot has done any gripping at all. Two quantities run along a knot's path and only one of them rises; the other falls from the first millimetre; and their sum is largest where the thread arrives.
A cloth slips at its least-interlaced thread
A weave's firmness is quoted as one number, the interlacings per crossing averaged over the whole repeat. A cloth does not fail on average. A thread pulled through a seam or out of a cut edge is held by its own crossings, the grip is exponential in them, and the thread with fewest goes first. In every four-by-four draft but plain weave some thread interlaces twice a repeat — the fewest possible — whatever the average says, and a satin stripe on a plain ground averages 0.87 while its satin ends grip at a seventh of the average thread.
A bouclé wears from the loops down
A cloth loses its strength before its mass, because a woven cloth's crowns are the very threads that carry the tension. A bouclé inverts it exactly. Its surface is its loops, its loops hang off a core that carries everything, and 61 per cent of its yarn is on no load path at all — so a rub takes three tenths of a millimetre of thread that does nothing before it reaches anything that does, and the cloth is ruined to look at while it is still as strong as it was woven.
A heddle eye lets the kink through
A leno's crossing end is pulled up at its doup and held down at its back standard, and the length that costs was priced as if both heddle eyes were frictionless. They grip, and gripping ought to trap the kink between them at nearly a hundred per cent strain. It does not come close. A capstan bounds a ratio of tensions, not a difference, and the spans either side are already stretched, so at a coefficient of 0.3 the span between the eyes takes 9.48 newtons against 7.08 with no friction at all — a third more, not fifteen times more — and an easer has to give back 67.9 millimetres rather than 64.4. What friction changes more is when the length is wanted.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
FrictionContact forceSpecificationCloth integrityFrayingInterlacingSeam slippageFloatLenoPilePull-outSett