Yarn count — where it appears
Named by 22 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Thread count is not quality
It counts threads. It says nothing about how much of the cloth they cover, it can be inflated by counting plies, and it ranks fabrics in nearly the wrong order. The quantity it is mistaken for is cover factor, and that one is computable.
The yarn count systems, and why there are several
Half the ways of saying how fine a yarn is get bigger as it gets finer and half get smaller. That is not carelessness — and one of the constants buried in the oldest rule of thumb turns out to be a measurement nobody wrote down.
Where the cover factor comes from
A cotton cover factor is threads per inch over the root of the count, and the scale says twenty-eight means a covered surface. The twenty-eight is not a convention: it is the reciprocal of Peirce's yarn diameter, and the trade's practical ceilings of fourteen and twenty-two fall straight out of it.
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 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.
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.
How many fibres make a thread
Every number in this collection began with a diameter, and a diameter is not a measurement — it is a count of fibres, divided. Once the division is written down, three quantities that had nothing to do with each other turn out to be the same number.
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.
Hairiness goes as the root of the count
A coarse yarn is hairier than a fine one and everybody knows it. What nobody has said is that its hairs are no longer — the count and the length obey different laws, one rises as a square root and the other does not move at all, and the identity behind both was asserted on this site for an entirely unrelated reason.
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.
How much yarn has to hang
The tension a thread needs to stay straight, converted into the only unit anybody has an intuition for: the length of the yarn's own weight. One bound says two metres and the other says six hundred, and everybody who has handled thread already knows which.
A cabled yarn is a fold of folds
The rule that sets a fold's twist is one over the square root of the number of components. Apply it twice and a cabled yarn's three twist levels are fixed by two integers — which is a prediction with no free constants, about a class of yarn the trade quotes no rule for at all.
The second binder buys half of everything
A bouclé's loops are held by their binder, and a snag drags thread from one loop to the next until the thread breaks. The essay before it left that reach at seven binder points on one binder and said a second would square the grip. It does — and because the grip is exponential in the wrap and the reach is a logarithm of it, the reach is exactly inverse in the binder count: 7.43 points, then 3.72, then 2.48. Half of everything any number of binders can buy is bought by the second one, which is how many the trade uses.
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.
Two layers are warmer than they are thick
Six essays have taken a double cloth apart from the draft's side. None has asked what the reader gets. Divide one cloth's yarn into two layers and the fabric is 41 per cent thicker — √2, which is the account's own law — and about 70 per cent warmer, because dividing the yarn also divides the fibre fraction and the mixture conducts less. The gap widens with every further layer and never closes, and a shaft loom stops at two.
A dip dyes a depth, not a share
A yarn dyed after spinning is a cylinder the dye has to diffuse into through the liquor between its fibres, and the fibres slow it by taking dye out of the liquor as it passes. A twenty-second dip therefore dyes to a depth, some tens of micrometres, and that depth is almost the same in a fine yarn and a coarse one. So the same dip that colours two fifths of a shirting yarn's section colours a fifth of a denim warp's; eight dips deepen the shade eightfold and leave the ring where it was; and a tighter yarn rings more thinly, because packing closes the pores faster than it narrows the yarn.
A knit's weight nearly names its yarn
A woven cloth's weight is one equation in four unknowns, and a hundred and fifty grams can be woven from anything between twenty tex and two hundred. A plain jersey's weight has the loop in it and nothing else to spare, and the loop is bounded by the yarn it is knitted from. Put the two together and the loop cancels: the weight is a constant times the tightness times the root of the count, so at one weight the count is fixed to within half again — and in each relaxed state it is fixed to a different half.
Two thirds is where a fold weighs its singles
A folded yarn's count is written as its singles' count divided by the number folded, as though folding changed no length. It changes two. The fold's helix wraps each single round the yarn's axis, which puts more single into every metre, and the untwisting straightens each single's fibres, which puts less fibre into every metre of single. Each is three to seven per cent at a weaving twist. They cancel at a folding ratio that is exactly two thirds in the small-angle limit — the folder's own number — and six elevenths for three singles and two fifths for four.
A cable weighs its singles at the twists the finished thread keeps
Cabling untwists every fold and hands that twist back to the singles inside it, so beneath its own helix a cable is a fold folded at the difference of two twists — and the cable's helix is a length nothing below it can pay for. Twisted where the cabling rule is quoted, a two-by-two weighs three and a half per cent over its notation. Read in the finished thread, with every level's surface at one angle, the same rule sets the folding frame exactly where a plain fold's is and the cable at 0.293, and the cable comes back to within half a per cent.
The singles pay once and every level adds a helix
A cable twisted so that every level's surface sits at one angle weighs its notation, and it is tempting to read that as a law: equal angles, honest count. It is not one. With every surface at one angle the singles keep the same twist however many levels sit above them, so their saving is paid once, while every level adds a helix of the same length. A two-fold comes out light, a cable on its notation, and a cord of two such cables two per cent heavy — the cable's agreement is the walk passing through zero. For a cord to weigh its notation, everything above its singles has to sit at about half their angle.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
SpecificationPacking factorPlyFibre countTwist factorYarn diameterCoefficient of variationFancy yarnHelix angleSettCover factorFibre fineness