Specification — where it appears
Named by 87 essays across 8 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
A fabric to fill and a fabric to load
A reinforcement has to hold as much fibre as possible and still let a resin through it, and the two demands are the same decision pulling opposite ways. Both bounds are computable, the interval between them narrows as the square of the part, and past a certain size it is empty — which is the most useful thing the arithmetic says.
The third index is not a repeat
The fancy weaves left three-dimensional weaving open as a possible fifth escape from the binary matrix. It is not one. The criterion that decides whether a plain weave is one cloth decides a five-layer preform unchanged — and what a third dimension actually takes away is periodicity, because a thickness has a top and a bottom and a repeat does not.
The hole between four threads
A woven cloth's holes are all the same size. That is not an approximation — it is what a repeat means — and it is the whole reason a woven filter is specified by one number while a nonwoven needs a curve. The number is the spacing less the diameter, which this site has been computing since its first questions about setting.
A filter cloth has two jobs
Hold the soil back and pass the water. The first wants a close sett and the second wants an open one, so a filter cloth is not a fabric but an interval — one that is sometimes a single sett wide, and for a fine enough soil is empty. The empty case is the useful one, because it says the answer is not a woven cloth at all.
An inflated cylinder wants an unbalanced cloth
Balance is a virtue in almost every other cloth. Under pressure it is a defect with a size — a closed cylinder carries exactly twice the stress around its circumference as along its axis, so a balanced fabric reaches its limit in one direction with a quarter of its fibre doing nothing at all.
A membrane is cut smaller than it is
A tensioned fabric roof is cut to a pattern smaller than the shape it will take, because stressing it makes it grow. At a fixed cloth thickness a prestress can only interchange crimp — one direction grows and the other shrinks — so everything that makes both directions grow is the crossings flattening, which is the one quantity here this site cannot compute.
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.
The bias cut and the selvedge
A bias-cut square costs exactly twice its own area, and every other shape costs more. That is an exact result about one panel — and it is not where a cutting room's waste comes from, because identical panels at one angle tile the plane. The loss is at the two selvedges, so it falls as the cloth gets wider, which no account in terms of the diagonal can explain.
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.
What a fabric weighs
Every fabric is sold by its weight in grams per square metre, and the number is a sum of four products in which no term appears alone. One equation, four unknowns: a hundred and fifty grams describes an open coarse cloth and a close fine one, and the cover factors differ by a factor of nearly three.
The sett decides how much, not how high
Every rung of this ladder so far has found the sett deciding something. This one finds it deciding nothing at all: a cloth's maximum rise is 6.37 m at eight threads per centimetre and 6.37 m at thirty-four, because the sett cannot reach inside a yarn.
The stitch that weakens the seam
More stitches per centimetre put more sewing thread across a seam and more holes through the cloth beside it, so seam strength rises, crosses and falls. Whether the fabric line falls at all is decided by the clear gap between two threads against the width of the needle — the same arithmetic a filter cloth is specified by, doing a different job.
A cloth does not mind a hole
A hole in a film costs it two thirds of its strength whatever the hole's size, because a continuum concentrates stress at an edge. A cloth's threads carry their own load and hand almost nothing to their neighbours, so a hole costs exactly the threads it removes — a loss that is linear in the hole, independent of the sett, and zero for a slit along the load.
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.
A yarn's stiffness is a bracket, not a number
Two calculations are available for how stiff a thread is in bending, and both are exact. One treats the fibres as free to slide and gives the sum of their stiffnesses; the other treats them as locked and gives a solid rod. They differ by the fibre count, which for an ordinary cotton yarn is a factor of five hundred — and no measurement of the fibre narrows it by anything at all.
The constants do not compose
The yarn in a knitted structure is a sum of what each element takes, exactly, over structures nobody has measured. The size the structure relaxes to is not a sum of anything — and the whole gap between the two is one number per structure, which would cost forty-five fabrics each to obtain.
The crimp ratio is not a measurement
Peirce's geometry is two thread systems, four unknowns and three equations. It cannot say how the crimp divides between warp and weft, so every cloth solved so far has been drawn at a ratio somebody chose. Give the threads a stiffness and the missing equation arrives — and for six of the eight cloths in the table it arrives with no material constant in it at all.
What the shed costs, in newtons
The shed's strain has been computed here and could not be priced: a strain is a length over a length and says nothing about how hard a thread is being pulled. A modulus turns it into a tension — and the back shaft of a twenty-four-shaft harness turns out to hold its ends at half their breaking load, all day, from the geometry alone.
The blow that sets the pick
The take-up gear decides how far the cloth moves between picks and says nothing about the blow that puts each pick where it goes. That blow is a force, and a virtual-work argument gives it in one line — with the length of the beat-up zone cancelling out of the answer exactly, which is the part worth having.
The locus gets a force
This site has drawn the set of states a cloth can reach without stretching any yarn, and has never been able to say which of them it is in or what it would cost to move. Both questions are one derivative of a bending energy — and the answer explains the flat start every fabric's load–extension curve has, which is not slack yarn but a symmetry.
A cloth relaxes until its threads stop pushing
The finishing field treats the relaxed state as a place a cloth arrives at. With an energy along its own locus and a friction at its crossings it is not a place but a band — and which point of the band a piece of cloth stops at depends on which side it came from, which is why washing it twice gives two answers.
A pick density is a force budget
The take-up ladder counted what a change-wheel take-up can select: 4,825 distinct pick densities between eight and forty threads per centimetre, against forty-nine warp setts a reed catalogue offers over the same range. That count assumed every setting is available. A beat-up force says otherwise, and cuts the top off the range without touching the fineness of the choice.
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.
A seam slips before it breaks
A sewn seam fails in one of two ways and the trade names them separately: the threads pull out of the cloth beside the stitching, or something breaks. Which one a given cloth does is decided by whether its seam allowance clears the length at which grip beats strength — and at the ordinary ten millimetres, the table divides four against four.
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.
The stiffness with no lower bound
A yarn's bending rigidity lies between two derivable ends and the ratio is the fibre count — wide, but closed. Its resistance to being squashed out of round has an upper bound of the same kind and a lower bound of exactly nothing, because fibres free to slide resist a change of shape with nothing at all. That is why nobody could ever compute the aspect ratio of a flattened thread.
A calender spends the compression for good
Calendering was described on this site as moving a cloth from one thread-section model to another, which was right and had no number in it because the amount of the move was a free parameter. It is a pressure now — and the same nip setting turns out to give two cloths quite different treatments, because the force at a crossing is the pressure times the area a crossing owns.
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 cloth that was called impossible
This site's own table of fabrics carries a note saying a real 44-end poplin has no solution in its geometry at all, and that the poplin row was therefore set at 32 ends. The cloth solves. What had no solution was the search — a bisection that treated a state it could not reach as evidence of having gone too far, and walked away from the answer every time.
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.
The spread was never free
This collection has taken a yarn's irregularity off a delivery note and used it as an input. It is not an input. Counting the fibres in a cross-section puts a floor under it that no spinner can beat, and the floor is one over the square root of the count.
The hairs are what touch
The pressure inside a twisted yarn falls to exactly zero at its surface, so the outermost fibres are held by nothing and some of them stand off. A yarn therefore has two diameters — the one its mass gives and the one a neighbour meets — and only the first is in the arithmetic.
A cloth cannot be more even than its yarn
It can be very much more even than its yarn, and by exactly the square root of the threads in view. Which raises a question the fineness argument left open — and the answer is that at a fixed cloth weight the count cancels out entirely.
Why a knit shows a thick place
A woven cloth has hundreds of separate warp ends and averages a yarn's faults among them. A knit has one thread and a machine that repeats — so a difference between two packages becomes a stripe, and the machine chooses its period.
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.
A thickness gauge reads the draft
A presser foot does not stop at the top of a cloth. It sinks until the area it is touching can carry the load, and how far that is depends on the shape of the bearing curve near the top — which is a property of the weave. So there is a weave term inside a measurement nobody thinks of as a weave measurement, and it is worth about one per cent.
A thickness is a maximum, not a mean
A presser foot rests on whatever is highest beneath it, so the thickness of a fabric is an extreme value — and an extreme grows with how much cloth is asked. The standard specifies the foot's area because the foot's area is in the answer.
Half the air goes through a tenth of the holes
A permeability computed from the average hole says nothing about which holes the air uses. Once the threads have a spread, the answer is: not many of them — and in a close cloth, half the flow leaves through less than a tenth of the openings.
A bundle is weaker than its threads
Threads pulled together do not break together. The weakest goes first and hands its load to the rest, so a bundle carries its maximum well before every thread is at its own limit — and the shortfall is a quarter, decided by the spread and by nothing else.
A missing end is a fault the length of the piece
A broken end and a mispick are the same size of accident — one thread — and they condemn areas that differ by a factor of thirty. The ratio is the aspect ratio of the piece and nothing else, which makes it a fact about how cloth is made rather than about what went wrong.
Singeing is the cheapest change to a surface
Pass a cloth through a flame fast enough and it loses under one per cent of its mass. What it loses is the part of itself that was doing most of the touching, and lustre, friction, printability, pilling and measured cover all move at once.
A sewing thread is a different animal
It is folded, balanced, lubricated and finished, and every one of those is an answer to a requirement no weaving yarn has. The lubricant is the interesting one: it makes the thread sewable by lowering the friction that was holding its own fibres together.
How far a knit could go if its yarn were the limit
The yarn in a stitch allows three hundred and twenty per cent course-wise extension before the straight line between two interlacings reaches the thread spanning it. A jersey jams at about a hundred. The factor of three is the finding: what stops a knit stretching is not the loop running out of yarn.
A rib pulls back on a force the loop supplies
A cuff has to give a great deal at almost no load and come back reliably, and no ordinary material does both. A rib gets its extension from folding, which is geometry, and its return from the loop reconfiguring, which is now a computable force — under four newtons a metre over the whole range a cuff works across.
What a thickness gauge reads on a knit
The structure says two yarn diameters and the gauge says more, and the gap is not an error in either. A gauge lands on the highest crowns, through a canopy of protruding fibre, under a load that has already begun to compress both — and it does that on a surface that is nothing but crowns.
A two-fold yarn is not twice a single
Folding halves nothing. It improves a yarn's evenness by exactly √2 and lowers the floor that evenness is measured against by exactly √2, so the index of irregularity comes out identical — folding does not make a better yarn, it makes a bigger one.
A designed thin place is kinder than an accidental one
A slub yarn and a badly spun one can carry exactly the same coefficient of variation, and the number tells a mill nothing about which it has. The designed variation has a floor — its base count, and it never goes below it — while the accidental one has a tail that falls further the more yarn is tested. At 36% CV the slub bottoms at 89% of its mean and the random yarn reaches 24%, and the gap widens from 1.6 to 3.7 times as the test grows from ten gauge lengths to ten thousand.
A fancy yarn has its crimp in the wrong thread
A bouclé is made by feeding an effect thread eighty per cent faster than the core it wraps, so the yarn contains more thread than it is long — which is crimp by this collection's own definition. A cloth's crimp is in the thread that carries the load, so removing it is the cloth's first extension. A bouclé's surplus is in a thread that carries nothing, so pulling the yarn stretches the core at once and the loops never straighten. Thirty-nine per cent of the yarn's mass is on the load path, and the other sixty-one is decoration.
What holds a nap in a knit
A fibre buried in a woven cloth breaks rather than slides once about thirty-four millimetres of it is held, and a cotton staple buries about fourteen. In a knit the same figure is over a metre — seventy-five times the burial available — so nothing is ever close, and a raised knit sheds for the whole of its life.
The knitted pilling criterion gets its number
Knitwear pills and shirting does not, and the standing explanation here has been that a knit presents more exposed yarn under less pressure between its threads. The second half had no number. It has one now, and it is bigger than the argument needed: the grip on a buried fibre is thirty times weaker in a knit than in a woven cloth of the same yarn.
A state is a thickness too
This collection's rule is that a fabric dimension quoted without its relaxation state is not a measurement. A knitted fabric has three dimensions and only two of them obey the rule: its thickness is the same in every state, because the interlacing that sets it does not relax.
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.
A woven thread has no room to bend
Set an elastica solver on an ordinary shirting and it refuses the problem. The refusal is the finding: a woven thread's whole crimp is spent going round the thread it crosses, between a fourteenth and a half of its length lies inside that wrap, and what is left has no slack to take a shape with.
A run is a race between two energies
A dropped stitch travels when a loop can be pulled out of the loop below it, and there are two candidate drivers: the energy the loop releases by unravelling, and the load the garment is under. One of them turns out to be negligible, and knowing which changes what a knitter can do about it.
The constants say nothing about thickness
Munden's two constants give a knitted fabric's wale and course spacings from its loop length alone, and the tightness factor collapses every fabric's shape onto one curve. Neither reaches the third dimension: two knits that are one knit in plan are two different thicknesses.
A seam must give what the knit gives
A knitted seam fails because it is too short, not because it is too weak: the thread in it is nearly two thousand times stronger than the load it carries. What decides whether it survives is one line of geometry — the extension a seam can reach is twice the fabric's thickness times the stitches per unit length.
How dense a knitted fabric is
A fabric's areal weight is what the trade specifies and it says nothing about bulk. Divide it by a thickness and the answer is a density — 0.40 grams a cubic centimetre for a jersey, a quarter of the fibre it is made of — and that quarter, the share of the volume that is not air, is the number every other property follows.
A repeat has to fit the panel, and the panel is cut
The warp's width is fixed at warping and a piece's length is not, so the fitting problem in the two directions is not the same problem. Along the length a repeat has to fit a *panel*, because every panel of a patterned cloth must start at the same phase or the pattern breaks at the seams — and the allowance is a whole repeat per panel. A ten-centimetre repeat costs a seventy-centimetre panel twelve and a half per cent and a sixty-four-centimetre repeat costs it forty-eight.
What a loop model still cannot say
A planar rod with a natural curvature and point contacts gets a knit's forces, its modulus and its extension. It does not get torsion, it does not get the third dimension the interlacing actually needs, and it does not stop adjacent courses passing through one another — which is why its extension ceiling sits three times beyond any jersey.
A yarn that has been set has no torque
Every torque on the torsion ladder assumes a yarn is elastic in twist for ever. It is not: a steamed yarn's residual torque is gone, its twist is unchanged, and the process that removes one without the other is the trade's whole answer to liveliness.
A bouclé is set by its loops and weighed by its count
A bouclé yarn has two diameters: the one its count implies, a third of a millimetre, and the one its loops occupy, over four millimetres. A cloth jams where its yarns touch, and a bouclé's yarns can touch at either — so its jamming sett is a bracket twelve and a half times wide, from 1.1 to 14 ends a centimetre. The weight follows the count wherever in that bracket the cloth is set, which puts the open end at a twelfth of the close end's weight with four per cent of its area covered by yarn.
The modulus a knit has instead of one
A fabric's stiffness in extension is usually its yarn's modulus with the geometry taken out. A knit's is not: dimensionally it can only be a bending rigidity over a length cubed, and the same yarn laid straight and parallel is thirty thousand times stiffer than the fabric made of it.
The twist a fabric gives back
A T-shirt that hung straight in the shop has its side seam round the front after three washes. The torque was there all along, the setting had hidden it, and the water gave it back — which makes spirality a finishing failure rather than a knitting one.
What a cuff presses with
A rib cuff holds a sleeve on a wrist, so it must be pressing. Divide its own recovery force by the radius it is wrapped round and the pressure comes out at eight tenths of a millimetre of mercury — a fiftieth of the lightest medical compression, and two orders below what the same fabric resists being squashed with.
A knit bends more easily along its courses
A jersey is not a soft fabric to bend. Computed the same way as this collection's woven cloths it lands inside their band, at the limp end — and the useful number is not the magnitude but the direction: two point two to one between its two axes, with the soft one being the axis it rolls about.
The flattening nobody fitted
A yarn in cloth is not round, everybody knows it, and nothing has ever predicted how flat. This collection's own knitted geometry turns out to require a flattening of four fifths — from a solve that knew nothing about flattening, made no allowance for it, and would have been written the same way if the idea had never occurred to anybody.
Two lots of one cloth drift apart down a drop
A pattern repeat is a count of picks, and its length in the finished cloth is whatever that count's loom length became after the cloth gave back its crimp. Two lots woven with the warp held a tenth harder give back 1.13 points more of their length — so matched at the top, two lengths from the two lots are thirty millimetres apart at a 250 cm hem, and visibly apart a quarter of a metre down. The size of the repeat does not enter, and no cutting allowance can take it out.
What friction has to hold in a relaxed knit
A knit's bending energy slopes away from the fabric everybody measures, so something is holding it there. Along its courses friction holds comfortably. Along its wales the driving force is exactly the contact force, so the whole balance collapses to one condition — the friction coefficient must exceed a half — and no yarn in this collection reaches it.
A flattening that follows the tightness factor
Eighteen solved fabrics — five loop lengths, three relaxation states, three counts — and the flattening each one's geometry demands falls on a single curve against one dimensionless group. Nothing about the fibre or the count survives except through that group, which is what turns an arithmetical result into a structural requirement.
A skew steps at every seam and a bow at none
A finished cloth's weft rows are seldom square to its selvedges, and on a patterned cloth the weft rows are the pattern rows. A skew — rows straight but slanting — puts its whole rise across every seam where two widths meet: two per cent on a 140 cm width is a 28 mm step, and matching the steps out tips the whole hanging instead, 112 mm across four widths. A bow — rows curving between level selvedges — matches perfectly at every seam and scallops each width in between. A three-millimetre match needs a skew under a quarter of a per cent, and down the seam a lot difference overtakes it.
A loop bends at twice its own radius
A rod of radius r cannot be bent to a centre-line radius below r without occupying its own space. A knitted loop's tightest bend is at 2.04 yarn radii — twice the hard limit, and falling as the fabric tightens. That is a ceiling on how tight a knit can be, from contact alone.
The diameter that does need a state
A fabric dimension quoted without its relaxation state is not a measurement. The rule was applied to the two plan dimensions and then to the thickness, and it was never applied to the one dimension that is not the fabric's at all — the yarn's.
What a balanced yarn is balanced about
A specification that says a yarn is balanced does not say which of two conditions it means, and the two have different numbers, different dependences and different consequences. One of them is what folding achieves and the other is what folding is said to achieve.
Which yarns knot well
A knot's efficiency depends on three things and only one of them is the knot. The other two are the fibre's fineness and its breaking strain, and across this collection's own table those give efficiencies from six per cent to eighty-three at exactly the same bend.
A tube of one size presses the calf harder than the ankle
A band presses a limb with its tension over the limb's radius, so it is easy to conclude that a band grips hardest where the limb is thinnest. That is true of a band held at one tension, and no knitted tube is. A tube knitted to one size is stretched further wherever the leg is thicker, and its tension rises faster than the radius does: an elastic tube pressing an ankle at twenty millimetres of mercury presses the calf at thirty-nine, and a cotton jersey tube presses its calf three and a half times as hard as its ankle. A stocking graduated the other way has to pull hardest where it presses less.
A jersey has no float for a wire to catch
Only a float can be raised, and the four-by-four census answers which woven cloths qualify: two. Asked of a knit the same question needs this collection's knitted float rather than a draft's, and the answer is that a plain jersey has no float at all — not a short one, none — while the ribs and cardigans have none either and the interlocks and milanos have floats every one of which is interior. Of 1,135 two-bed structures a machine could make, twenty present a float a wire could hook, and not one of them presents it on both faces.
An inflated beam wrinkles at a moment with no cloth in it
An air-filled tube can be used as a beam because the pressure pulls its cloth taut along its length, and a cloth that cannot carry a push can carry a bending moment for exactly as long as that pull outweighs it. The inside of the bend goes slack at πpr³/2 and the tube folds at πpr³ — seventy-nine and a hundred and fifty-seven newton metres for a tube a fifth of a metre across at half a bar — and there is no property of the cloth in either. The cloth decides how far the beam bends on the way, and how much pressure it can be pumped to.
A nap is paid for by the taper of the pattern
A raised cloth's fibres lean, so a panel turned end for end shows a different amount of fibre and every piece of a garment has to lie the same way along the bolt. What that costs is not a property of the cloth. A rectangle costs nothing laid one way; a tapered panel costs (1 − r)/(1 + r) of extra cloth in lanes, where r is its narrow width over its wide one; and the best any one-way lay can do is exactly half of that, because a trapezoid's difference body is a hexagon and hexagons tile. On a real width it arrives in whole panel lengths: six skirt gores take 75 centimetres two ways and 150 one way.
A grade charges by the length and a cutter pays by the panel
The four-point system scores a fault by how far it runs — one point to three inches, four beyond nine — and caps a linear metre at four points however many faults it holds. A cutting room pays by how many panels the fault lands in. Below a panel's length every fault costs exactly one panel while its score runs from one to four; above it the panels grow without bound and the score does not move at all. Two fifty-metre pieces built to the same 267 points a hundred square metres lose 33 per cent of their panels and 92.
The count that decides how flat
A knitted fabric's demanded flattening is a function of its tightness factor, and a tightness factor is the square root of a count over a loop length. So a coarser yarn at the same loop is flatter — which is a prediction about a spinner's choice that nobody has framed as one.
A fault map is worth most where the grade is worst
A cutter who knows where the faults are can slide the marker or break it, and only one of those is worth anything: sliding a rigid tiling to its best offset recovers two panels of fifty-five, and letting the tiling break recovers twelve — two panels in five more cloth from the same roll. The gain has a maximum in the middle of the range, because there is nothing to recover on a clean bolt and nothing to be done on a ruined one. And the prediction the grading essay made, that a map is worth most on a bolt whose faults are bunched, is false: bunching leaves clear runs for the blind cutter too.
The one fibre whose answer is known
A table of measured constants is worth what its worst row is worth, and nobody can tell which row that is. This one has a member whose answer was known before anybody measured it, and the ordering of the other nine turns out to say something about how fibres are made.
A weight fixes the fibre and not the drape
Every plain cotton cloth of 150 grams a square metre contains the same fibre, and the count decides only how it is arranged. Across the counts that can make that weight, thickness rises threefold and cover falls in step, so their product holds still. The bending length does something stranger: at the bound a woven yarn actually sits near, it depends on neither the count nor the weight, only on the fibre.
Flattening is free and impossible
The fabric demands a flattening and the yarn has to supply it. At one end of this collection's oldest bracket the deformation costs exactly nothing; at the other it costs thirty-six times the whole bending energy of a stitch. The fabric flattens — which is the fourth everyday observation in one phase to land at the same end.
What a contact model would have to do
This ladder has measured a fabric that does not fit and priced nothing. The repair is a different class of problem from the one this collection solves, it costs fifteen per cent of the yarn in a stitch, and it buys back four results — which is an unusually good return for a piece of modelling.
A fabric reads its own bracket four ways
A yarn's stiffness is unknown to a factor of three hundred, and no laboratory measurement has closed it. Four unrelated everyday observations — a snarl, a knot, a flattened yarn and a cloth's own thickness — all say the same thing about which end of it a yarn sits at.
Where this collection's thread model now stands
A thread has two stiffnesses and a thickness, and this collection's model has had one stiffness and no thickness. Both were added in one phase, neither reached the question it was built for, and the accounting is worth more than either.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
FrictionJammingLoop lengthContact forceSettCloth thicknessYarn diameterBending rigidityElasticaMeasurementCrimpPacking factor