Float length — where it appears
Named by 22 essays across 7 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The crimp is the price of being cloth
A woven reinforcement is bought for stiffness along its fibres, and the usual explanation of what it gives up — fibre content, lost to the crimp — has the sign wrong. At a given thickness a woven fabric holds slightly more fibre than two flat plies of the same tows. What the crimp costs is stiffness, and the float length is the knob.
Broken and herringbone twills
Reversing a twill is the cheapest way to turn a rule into a figure, and there are two ways to do it that look identical on paper. One of them leaves two adjacent ends doing exactly the same thing.
The float in a knit
Five rungs of this anchor have taken the float to be a length of thread on the surface with nothing holding it down. A knit has one too, and it behaves the same way in the light and the opposite way in the hand — because a woven float lengthens its thread and a knitted one shortens its fabric.
A honeycomb gets its cells in the wash
The obvious mechanism is take-up on the loom, and the arithmetic says it is wrong: every end of a diamond passes through the long floats and the tight ones alike. What is left is finishing, and a cell is a region that wanted to shrink less than the cloth around it.
A crepe cannot be structureless
A crepe weave is designed to have no line in it anywhere. The correlations of a draft with itself sum to a number fixed by the repeat alone, so structure can be spread and never removed — and on eight ends the floor turns out to be half the repeat, set by a fact about binary words with nothing textile in it.
A hole with nothing crossing
A real leno holds its holes open by crossing one thread over another, which is a topological arrangement and cannot come undone. A mock leno makes the same holes by grouping threads that nothing separates, and everything about it is friction.
A cloth has an outside
Every quantity in this collection is a property of the inside of a fabric — a crimp, a cover, a hole, a fibre count. None of them says where the cloth stops. The outside is a height field the draft computes, its crowns stand at two different levels, and which of the two is higher decides what the cloth touches the world with.
The curve that says what a cloth touches with
Take a cloth's surface and ask what fraction of the plan lies within a given depth of its highest point. The answer is one curve, it answers every question of the form what does this touch, and its behaviour at the top is decided by a single bit of the draft — whether the longest float is one crossing or more than one.
Two drafts of twenty-two thousand
Every four-by-four draft there is, measured by how much horizontal crown line its surface carries. Two of them carry none — the plain weave and its translation, and nothing else in the catalogue — and the quantity turns out to be smallest for the most balanced cloths and largest for the most one-sided, which is the opposite of what a float count suggests.
Only a plain weave has one size of hole
A weave's holes come in kinds, and the kinds are read off the matrix. Asking which weaves have only one kind looks like a question with an obvious answer and a one-line proof. Every draft at four by four was built and asked instead, and the count came back fourteen — of which twelve turn out to be telling the truth about the sett rather than about the weave.
A satin's hole is a slot
Two cloths at the same cover have the same open area, exactly, and do not pass the same air. A float lays parallel threads side by side and the hole beside them is long rather than square, and drawing a hole out at constant area cuts what it passes to two fifths — because the hydraulic diameter falls and the shape factor climbs, and both of them move the same way.
What a missing end does to the weave
Every four-by-four draft there is, with each of its four ends taken away in turn: ninety-one thousand cloths, and not one of them falls into layers. What happens instead is worse, and the criterion has never had to report it before.
A mispick is one row in the wrong place
Every four-by-four draft, with each of its picks replaced by every shed the loom could have made instead: a million and a third substitutions. Two thirds leave a cloth that still hangs together, a third leave a thread held by nothing, and the same wrong shed is harmless in one draft and fatal in another.
Which weave hides a fault
The trade says a busy weave hides a mistake. Every four-by-four draft there is was laid out as cloth and given every wrong lift it could have, and ninety-nine in a hundred hand that single mistake a float of seven — because a reversal does not lengthen a float, it joins two.
Raising moves the surface onto the hairs
A raising machine pulls fibre ends up out of the floats, and what a finger or a light then meets is not the cloth's surface at all but a layer of loose fibre standing above it. The criterion for which cloths can be raised is the same criterion, exactly, that decides which cloths have crown line — so raising spends the surface that would have made the fabric shine.
A float reflects into a line
A cylinder cannot return a beam to a point. Its normals sweep the whole half-turn across it and nothing at all along it, so a straight thread throws light into a fan — seen as a highlight lying along the thread, exactly as long as the length of thread that is straight. The lobe of a satin is twice as narrow along the thread as across it; the lobe of a plain weave is exactly round.
Lustre is a length times a width
The specular area of a cloth factors exactly: a length of crown line, which the draft supplies, times a width of section within the tolerance, which the yarn and the finish supply. Neither factor knows anything about the other, and over the four-by-four catalogue the first alone spans a factor of sixty.
A damask's edge floats further than its figure
Figure and ground in a damask carry the same longest float, which is true of both areas and false along the line between them. A float can cross the edge where two tones meet, and when one tone's marks lie inside the other's it can never be longer than a float either tone already has. A damask built as an exact complement is the one place in n that its ground can start which breaks this, and it floats n picks at its edge against n − 1 inside.
A six-end shading can be even or have a plain centre, not both
A six-end repeat can be split into the parts a shading is built from in 1,128,960 ways, and every one of them has now been walked. Only 2,816 — sixty-four distinct shadings — hold every tone between the extremes to a float of two, and seven in ten cannot do better than four. Five hundred and seventy-six can put a plain weave at the midtone, and not one of those can keep twos beside it: taking a part out of a plain weave, or adding one, always leaves a float of three.
A damask is the only figure that costs its beam nothing
Figure and ground consume warp at different rates, and the difference accumulates down the length of the figure. An eight-end satin figure on a plain ground puts its two regions fourteen per cent apart, which on a loom absorbing a millimetre of slack bounds the figure at eight and a half millimetres. A damask's two regions are the same satin used two ways, so complementation leaves both float lengths where they were — and their crimps are identical rather than close, to the last bit of a double.
An even shading cannot keep its surface level
Sixty-four six-end shadings hold every middle tone to a float of two, and the question left over was whether any of them keeps a tone ramp's surface level the way a twill read in order does. None does, and all of them sink by exactly the same depth — 43.3 micrometres on a sheeting, a sixth of the cloth. The reason is a counting argument a recording engineer would recognise: a limit on how long a thread may float is a limit on run length, and a run-length limit forces a floor on how often the thread changes face. A level ramp needs every tone at the extremes' rate, which needs a float of half the repeat at the midtone and more beside it — exactly the floats the twill in order has.
A float limit leaves one row-free satin
A satin is chosen so that no diagonal forms, and an earlier essay found that most of them fail: the interlacings lie on a lattice, every lattice has a shortest step, and the marks line up along it unless two steps tie — which happens at twelve of the thirty-five orders from five to forty. The other constraint was named and not applied. An n-end satin floats over n − 1, so a yarn that will not carry a float longer than eight admits four orders in all, and exactly one of them is row-free: the five-end satin, which is the one everybody already weaves.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
CensusCrown lineEnumerationPlateauWeave matrixSurface heightBearing curveCatalogueCloth thicknessCrimpCrown heightFault