Every essay — page 6
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After the loom
The cloth that comes off the loom is not the cloth anybody buys. Shrinkage as the crimp coming back, the yarn flattened and swollen, the floats raised into a nap, and the fibres entangled until the weave is no longer the only thing holding the fabric together.
A cloth shrinks most the first time
A laundering test reports five numbers and they fall away like a geometric series. Nothing in a wash is slow — a cloth is agitated tens of thousands of times in half an hour — so a second wash that shrinks it again is direct evidence that its frictional barriers are spread, and the ratio between successive washes measures how far.
A crease is a fold the crimp cannot supply
A fold needs its outer face longer than its inner, and a woven cloth's way of supplying a length is to move crimp. That runs out at a radius of millimetres, and a pressed crease is tenths of one — so the fold is handed to the fibres. How hard it strains them turns on a question this collection has been unable to settle for two fields, and a crease settles it by refusing.
Which fibres crease, and why there are two answers
Run the sharpest fold a yarn can make against every fibre's breaking extension and its recovery, and the ranking that falls out is the trade's own — linen worst, cotton next, wool and the melt-spun filaments best. It falls out of two columns rather than one, because two fibres in the bottom three get there by different mechanisms, and a treatment that fixes one does nothing for the other.
The pore that wicks is the pore that leaks
A cloth's water resistance and a cloth's wicking are one expression, read at the two ends of a contact angle. The geometry cannot be chosen to give both, because it is the same geometry; the only thing that decides which a fabric does is a finish. And the two questions do not even read the same pore — a rise is set by the finest and a leak by the coarsest, so the same cloth lifts water three metres and holds it back at fifty-six millimetres.
A finish spends a spread before it spends a mean
Every operation on a cloth multiplies the variation it inherits by its own log-slope, so an operation with an exponent below one makes the cloth more even and one above it makes the cloth less even. Calendering, which is bought for evenness, has an exponent of 1.4.
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.
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 coating fills the crowns before it bridges the holes
A film does not sit on a cloth, it fills it — and the volume it has to supply to reach a level is the integral of one minus the bearing area. Burying an ordinary sheeting's crowns takes 185 grams a square metre, which is more than the cloth weighs, and the whole of the weave's influence is spent in the first ten of them.
Friction is two surfaces, not one
A gap between two rough bodies is the sum of two depths, so two cloths face to face touch on the convolution of their height distributions rather than on either of them. At the approach a light touch produces that is twenty times less contact than the same cloth against a plate — which is why a fabric's friction against a plate and against another fabric are two different measurements.
A hair layer is a balance, not a stock
Singeing takes under one per cent of a cloth's mass and changes its lustre, its friction, its printability and its pilling. It also does not stay done, because rubbing frees fibre ends as fast as it breaks them off, and a flame changes the stock while leaving the balance exactly where it was.
A print is as sharp as the hairs are long
Singeing comes before printing in every finishing route ever written down and the reason given is that the cloth must be smooth. The reason is sharper than that: ink carried on a fibre end reaches as far as the fibre is long, so the feather on a printed edge is a quantile of a hair population and nothing else.
A loop is set and not sprung
The way out of a model that predicts a jersey should spread is to stop treating its yarn as a straight rod bent into a loop. A yarn that has been wetted, heated and dried has taken the loop as its own natural shape — and once the natural shape is the loop, every force downstream becomes computable with the relaxed fabric as the origin.
Two knits with one tightness factor are one knit
The loop model has exactly one dimensionless group in it — the yarn's diameter over the loop length — so two fabrics that share it have the same loop, to fifteen figures, whatever they are made of. That group is the knitter's own tightness factor, and it explains why an index quoted as empirical works as well as it does.
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.
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.
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 rib's relaxation is not its bending either
A jersey does not settle where its bending energy is least, and this collection has said so for several rungs. A rib does not either, and the model now says how far from least it would have to go: sixteen yarn diameters of bed gap before the yarn runs out, against the two or three a machine is set to.
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.
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.
A wet knit's yarn is flatter
A knitted fabric's own geometry demands a flattened yarn, and how flat depends on how much room the fabric leaves. A wet cotton yarn is a tenth thicker than a dry one at the same length, so a wet fabric leaves less room — and asks its yarn to be flatter by an amount the geometry gives.
What wetting does to the bending limit
A rod cannot be bent to a radius below its own. A relaxed knitted loop sits at twice that limit, and a wet yarn is a tenth thicker in the same loop — so wetting moves a fabric a tenth of the way towards a bend it cannot physically take.
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.
A wrinkle cannot settle what a crease settles
The first rung of this ladder found that a pressed crease decides a question this collection had been unable to settle for two fields — whether a bent yarn's fibres slide or bend as one body — and it decides it by refusing: the coherent branch would strain the fibres by eighty-four per cent and cotton breaks at six. A wrinkle is the same fold at twenty times the radius, and there both branches are survivable. So the bracket that a crease collapses stays fourteen times wide at every radius anybody actually creases a cloth at accidentally.
A crease cannot cross a seam
The outer layer of a folded stack has further to go than the inner, by the fold's angle times the stack's own thickness. A four-layer seam of quarter-millimetre cloth taken through a half turn needs its outer layer to be 2.45 millimetres longer than its inner — and a stitch line every three millimetres has pinned them. So the fold opens out where it crosses the seam, which is what a trouser crease visibly does, and the arithmetic gives the radius it opens to.