Field

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.

The same thread, on the loom and off it. One warp end in section over eight picks, drawn twice at the same scale. The thread is the same length in both panels; in the lower one more of that length is in the bends, so the cloth it spans is shorter. Nothing has been lost — the length has moved into the crimp. The thread's thickness and the height of its bends are drawn larger than scale so the interlacing is legible; the two panels' spacings are not.

What comes off the loom is not the cloth

Every number on this site so far describes a fabric in one particular condition — held under tension, stretched to the reed width, never wetted — and none of them says so. That condition lasts until the cloth is taken off the machine, which is the first thing that happens to it.

Relaxation is the crimp coming back

A cloth that shrinks in the wash has not lost any thread. The thread is exactly as long as it was; more of its length is now spent going up and down rather than along, and the difference is the shrinkage, computable to the last figure from the woven geometry alone.

How much a cloth can give back. Relaxation shrinkage against how much of the warp crimp the loom took out, with the area shrinkage above it and the ceiling drawn across. The ceiling is the crimp itself, read as c/(1+c): it is all the length there is to give, and no tension reaches past it.

Why the warp shrinks more

A woven cloth almost always loses more length than width, and the reason is not in the cloth. It is in the machine — the warp is held under tension for the whole of weaving and the weft is held for a fraction of a second — so the two systems arrive at the finishing works with different amounts of crimp missing.

A cloth cannot shrink past its own crimp

However hard a loom held the warp, there is a limit to what relaxation can take back, and it is not a fitted constant or a measured one. It is the crimp itself, read as c over one plus c, and it is the only result in this field with nothing empirical in it at all.

What a pre-shrunk label promises. Three lengths of the same cloth: as woven, as it leaves the compressive-shrinkage machine, and where it will finally settle. The residual shrinkage quoted on a label is measured against the second of these and the total against the first, so the two numbers are not the same quantity and cannot be subtracted.

Pre-shrinking is a subtraction done in advance

A compressive-shrinkage machine takes four per cent out of a cloth before anybody buys it, and the label then quotes what is left. The two numbers are fractions of different lengths, so they cannot be subtracted — and the difference between doing that correctly and incorrectly is most of the number.

The cloth gains weight by losing size

Mass per unit area is the number a fabric is bought by, and it rises by eleven per cent when a cloth relaxes — with nothing added, nothing removed and no thread changed. The quantity is a ratio, and finishing moves its denominator.

The ratchet a wool fibre is. A fibre with its scales, and the two strokes of one cycle of agitation. The push is the same in both directions; the distance is not, because the scales resist tip-first motion more than root-first. Every cycle therefore nets a displacement in one direction, and no amount of further agitation undoes it.

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.

Milling, on the nonwoven's own scale. Migrated fibre accumulating with agitation, measured against the stick-percolation threshold this site uses for nonwovens. Above the line the fibre network holds on its own, which is why a milled cloth can be cut without fraying — the weave is no longer the only thing keeping it together.

Milling holds the cloth a second time

This site's integrity criterion returns exactly the same answer for a melton as for the loose twill it was woven as, and it is right both times. What has changed is that a second network now holds the fabric together, made of migrated fibre rather than of thread crossings — and it is the one that decides whether a cut edge frays.

What a shrink-resist treatment has to do. Net displacement per cycle of agitation as a treatment closes the gap between the two friction coefficients. The chemistry is sold as gluing the scales down; what it has to achieve is arithmetic — make the fibre slide equally well both ways and the ratchet has nothing to rectify.

Shrink-resist is one number

Machine-washable wool is sold as a coating that glues the scales down. What the treatment has to achieve is narrower and more exact — make the fibre slide equally well in both directions, and the ratchet has nothing left to rectify, whatever the friction happens to be.

The same yarn, flattened. One yarn's cross-section at five degrees of flattening, all drawn at one scale and all of the same area. Nothing is added: the yarn is wider because it is thinner. The cover rises for that reason alone, which is why a calendered cloth is more opaque than the cloth that went into the machine.

Calendering is the cloth arriving at the other model

This site has carried two thread sections side by side since its foundation — Peirce's circle and Kemp's racetrack — and has been careful to say which produced any number. They are not two opinions about one yarn. They are one yarn on either side of a finishing machine.

Swelling, at the same count. The same yarn before and after mercerisation, drawn to one scale. Its linear density has not changed — the same grams per kilometre go into the cloth — but the fibre occupies more volume, which is a lower packing factor and a larger diameter. Every consequence in this field follows from that single number.

Mercerising is a packing factor

Cotton held in caustic soda swells, and everything the treatment is famous for follows from one number in this site's diameter calculation. The lustre it is actually sold for does not, and saying which consequences are computed and which are not is the whole of the discipline here.

What a raising machine can catch in a 2/2 twill. The draft with every weft float long enough for a raising wire to lift marked on it. The teeth need an unsupported length of thread on the surface, so a cloth in which every thread is bound at every crossing offers them nothing at all — which is why a napped fabric is always a twill or a satin and never a plain weave.

Only a float can be raised

A raising machine drags wire teeth across a cloth and pulls fibre ends up into a nap. The teeth need something to catch, and what they catch is a float — so which fabrics can be napped at all is a question about the matrix, decidable exactly, and the answer over the whole four-by-four census is two.

What a raising machine can catch in a 3/1 twill. The draft with every weft float long enough for a raising wire to lift marked on it. The teeth need an unsupported length of thread on the surface, so a cloth in which every thread is bound at every crossing offers them nothing at all — which is why a napped fabric is always a twill or a satin and never a plain weave.

Raising spends the cloth's strength

Fibre standing up on the surface is fibre no longer in the load path. A nap is warmth bought with tensile strength, and the exchange rate runs along the same axis as everything else the float decides — which means a fabric cannot be optimised for both ends of it.

A knit's dimensions come from its loop

A relaxed plain knit's courses, wales and stitch density depend on the loop length and on nothing else — not the yarn count, not the fibre, not the machine gauge. The constants are measured rather than derived, and the interesting thing about the published set is that it does not quite satisfy its own arithmetic.

A dimension without a state

Every essay in this field turned on the same omission, and collecting them produces a result none of them had on its own — the quantities a cloth's geometry determines divide cleanly into those a finishing works can move and those it cannot, and the division is not the one the vocabulary suggests.

The weight against the constant nobody has measured. Areal weight against the stitch-density constant, for four two-bed structures at 20 tex on a 0.35 cm loop with a tuck taken as 1.15 of one. Every line is exactly straight through the origin, because the weight is tex times yarn per repeat times k_s divided by the area of the repeat and there is no fitted constant anywhere in that division. The three vertical rules are the only measured values this site has — Munden's published k_s for plain single jersey in three relaxation states — and none of them is the right value for any structure drawn here. Where each line should be read is the whole of what is missing.

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.

What a coating does to seven properties of a cloth. Seven quantities computed for uncoated fabric, with what each becomes once a film bonds the crossings: the shear a cloth will take — changed in kind; tear strength — changed in kind; the loss from a hole — reversed; wicking — halved; air permeability — reversed; the sett's effect on strength — unchanged in sign; areal weight — added to. Two of the seven reverse outright. The table is a collection rather than a computation, and each row points at the essay whose result it qualifies.

Coated is a state

Almost every mechanism in a woven cloth assumes threads that can move relative to one another — the bias is a mechanism because the crossings rotate, a tear runs because threads gather, a cloth takes a hole without minding because the neighbours pick the load up. A film bonds the crossings. Two of those results reverse outright, the rest change in kind, and a fabric's quoted numbers almost never say which state they belong to.

The resting band, not the resting point. The bending energy of a sheeting along its own constant-thread-length locus, with the band in which friction can hold it shaded. The minimum is a single state; the band is 10.9 per cent of length wide, because the cloth stops sliding as soon as the energy it can release falls below the 0.0756 N friction takes to move a crossing. What the drawing cannot show is which end of the band a given piece of cloth stops at, which depends on the direction it arrived from and is what makes relaxation hysteretic.

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.

The resting band with two coefficients in it. The range of extensions a sheeting can be left in, at rest and while being agitated, at three ratios of kinetic to static friction. The upper bar of each pair is the stuck band, held by the static coefficient; the lower is the band a cloth being shaken can be left in, held by the kinetic one. Agitation narrows the band but by less than the ratio of the coefficients: at 0.75 the narrowing is 0.868. The restoring force is not linear in the extension, so cutting the friction by a quarter does not move the band's edges by a quarter of the way in. What the bars cannot show is where a given piece of cloth actually stops inside its band, which depends on which side it came from.

Why agitation helps a cloth relax

Every standard relaxation procedure agitates: tumble it, wash it, steam it, work it. The explanation given is that agitation lets the fabric find its own dimensions, which is true and is not a mechanism. The mechanism is that a sliding contact resists less than a stuck one — and putting a number on it shows the effect is real, is smaller than the obvious arithmetic suggests, and does not account for what a relaxation procedure achieves.

From a calender's line load to a force at one crossing. A sheeting through a nip loaded at 30 N per millimetre of bowl width, with the cloth in contact over 5.0 mm. The pressure is the first divided by the second, 6.00 N/mm², and the force at one crossing is that pressure times the area a crossing owns — the product of the two thread spacings, 0.1374 mm². So the crossing carries 0.824 N, the sections flatten to 2.42 and 2.63, and the cloth thins from 0.388 mm to 0.218 mm. What the drawing cannot show is that two cloths through the same nip are not given the same treatment: the area a crossing owns varies fivefold across the standard cloth table, and it is a factor in the force.

A calender spends the compression for good

Calendering was described here 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.

Shrinkage from wetting, cloth by cloth. The change in each cloth's relaxed construction when its threads swell by 20% across and 1.2% along. Both states are least-energy states of their own constant-thread-length locus, which is the only comparison the locus admits: its minimum is a state at its own sett, so it may be compared with another minimum and not with a quoted construction. Positive is smaller. Every cloth that has a wet state closes up except the cheesecloth, which opens by half a per cent because the fibre's extra hundredth of length outruns the extra crimp a thicker partner costs. What the bars cannot show is the three cloths that are missing, which have no wet state at all.

Two shrinkages, one tape measure

A cloth that comes out of a wash smaller has done two different things and the tape cannot tell them apart. One is geometric, recoverable and finished in minutes; the other is frictional, permanent and needs agitation. This collection can now compute both, and they have different signatures.

Why felting needs water

Wool felts in a wash and not in a drawer, and the usual explanation is that water lubricates the scales. It does the opposite of that. Water lowers one of wool's two friction coefficients and raises the other, so it widens the gap the ratchet rectifies — and what follows is a saturating function of the ratio, not of either coefficient.

Wash-by-wash shrinkage, reported and modelled. The shrinkage an unfinished cotton cloth shows in each of five laundering cycles, beside what a model with no rate in it predicts. The model says a wash lets every crossing whose frictional barrier is below the cloth's current excess slip to the edge of its own band, and that is a distribution rather than a rate. Two numbers are fitted — the excess the cloth came off the loom with, 7.13%, and the spread of the barriers, 37.2× — against the first two washes. Washes three, four and five are predictions with nothing left to adjust and come out at 0.506%, 0.284%, 0.179% against reported 0.50%, 0.30%, 0.20%. What the bars cannot show is the finding underneath: the reported yarn-on-yarn friction range gives a spread of only 1.34×, which would have the tail over by the third wash.

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.

$The tightest fold a 20 tex cotton yarn can be given. A cloth folded as sharply as it can be folded. The two yarn crowns on the inside of the fold cannot pass through one another, so the fold's radius is the yarn's own — 0.084 mm for a 20 tex cotton yarn — and there is no measurement of an iron anywhere in the argument. At that radius a fibre free to slide is strained 7.14%, which is √(packing × fibre tex ÷ yarn tex), and the whole yarn bending as a rod would be strained exactly one hundred per cent. Cotton's measured breaking extension is 6.0% to 10.0%, so the free bound does not survive and the locked one cannot. What the drawing cannot show is the fibres inside the yarn, which is exactly what the argument is about — the picture is the same either way and the strain is fourteen times different.$

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 that two fields of these essays had left unsettled, and a crease settles it by refusing.

The strain at a fold against the strain each fibre breaks at. For each fibre, the surface strain at the sharpest fold a 20 tex yarn of it can make — which is √(packing × fibre tex ÷ yarn tex), with no measurement of a crease in it — beside its own measured breaking extension. cotton and flax are strained past the low end of their breaking range, so some of their fibres break at the fold, and that is what a linen crease is. The rest survive, and among them viscose and wool return less than three fifths of what they were given, which is the other way a cloth creases. Both columns are needed: viscose survives with a factor of two to spare and is among the three worst by measurement. What the bars cannot show is wool, which the census puts in the wrong column because the recovery figures are the immediate ones and wool's is the most delayed of any fibre here.

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 coarsest pore and the finest, in one muslin. A muslin's two pore systems asked the same question. Water at a contact angle of 120° is held back by a pore of radius r at a head of 2γ|cos θ|/ρgr, so the hole between four threads — hydraulic radius 134 µm — holds 56 mm of water, and the space between the fibres inside a thread — 2.50 µm — holds 2975 mm. Water takes the cheapest path, so the cloth leaks at the first of them and the second is never asked. Turn the contact angle round to a wetting one and the same two radii give a rise instead, and now it is the finest that decides, because that is the one that lifts highest: 5950 mm. One expression, two ends of a distribution, and the fabric's two properties read opposite ends of it.

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.

An operation multiplies a spread by its own log-slope. A transformation does not leave a population's spread alone: if y goes as the kth power of x then a small spread in x becomes k times that spread in y, exactly in the limit and nearly so at the CVs a yarn has. So an operation with an exponent below one narrows the population it acts on — a thickness that goes as the square root of a load comes out at half the spread it went in with — and one with an exponent of four widens it fourfold. This is the same derivative that decided every bias in this ladder, read for its magnitude rather than for its curvature, and it is why a finish can be a variance-reducing operation without anyone having chosen it for that. The straight line through the origin is the whole of the rule; the departure from it at the right-hand end is the second-order term arriving, which is where the linearisation stops being one.

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.

$The two diameters of a 20 tex yarn. The pressure inside a twisted yarn is zero at its surface, so the outermost fibres are held by nothing but their own buried ends and some of them stand off as loops and ends. A yarn therefore has two diameters: a mass diameter of 167.1 µm, which is a volume divided by a length and is the one every other calculation of cover uses, and a contact diameter of 217.1 µm, which is what a neighbouring thread, a finger or an air stream meets. The gap is a hair layer of 25.0 µm on each side and it is measured, not computed — nothing here predicts hairiness. What is computed is the consequence, and it is 29.9% of the diameter every cover factor is built from.$

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.

What it takes to bury a cloth's crowns. The film needed to fill a fabric's surface to a stated level, for plain, 2/2 twill, satin 8 in sheeting, at a film density of 1.2 g/cm³. Burying the crowns entirely takes 187 g/m² on the plain, 186 g/m² on the 2/2 twill, 183 g/m² on the satin 8 — and the ordering is not the ordering of roughness. A weave with plateaux presents a wide flat top that a thin film covers, and a weave with points presents crowns with valleys between them that the film has to fill before it is continuous anywhere. Every gram spent filling a valley is a gram that is not bridging a hole, which is where a coated cloth fails.

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.

$Two cloths touch on a fraction of what one cloth does. A 2/2 twill in sheeting pressed against a flat plate, and the same cloth pressed against another piece of itself. At an approach of 24.9 µm the single surface is touching 15.87% of the plan and the pair 3.130% — a factor of 5. The reason is that a gap between two rough surfaces is the sum of two depths, so both surfaces have to be near their own maxima at the same place, and the chance of that is the product of two small numbers. The pair's curve is the convolution of the two height distributions, computed exactly on histograms rather than fitted to a Gaussian — because a woven surface is bimodal and nothing about it is Gaussian.$

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, so singeing does not stay done. The hair population of a 20 tex cotton yarn under rubbing, started from a singed cloth and from an unusually fuzzy one. Abrasion does two opposite things: it frees ends that spinning left buried, from a supply of 2.23 per millimetre in the surface shell, and it removes hairs that are long enough to be caught. Where the two meet is a fixed point at 1.43 per millimetre, and the cloth goes there from either side with the same time constant — 248 cycles to halve the distance, whichever direction it is travelling. A singeing is therefore undone in a few hundred rubs, because the flame changed the stock and not the balance. What is predicted here is that a fixed point exists, that it does not remember the starting state, and that one rate serves both directions; where it sits relative to the spun level needs two rates the model does not supply, and it is set to reproduce the one thing everyone has noticed, which is that fabrics get fuzzier as they are worn.

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.

$A print is as sharp as the hairs are long. How far ink carried on a hair reaches past a printed edge into the unprinted cloth, for sheeting in three states. A hair lying near the edge bridges as far as its own length, and the number bridging at least a distance x is (n_A λ/2)e^(−x/λ) — an exponential with the population's own decay length — so the visible feather is a quantile rather than a mean, taken here at one hair per 50 millimetres of edge. As woven the feather is 1911 µm, which is a fifteenth of an inch and coarser than any screen worth engraving: the cloth cannot hold better than 7 lines to the inch whatever the printer does. Singeing caps it at the flame's own reach of 200 µm and takes the cloth to 63 lines — a factor of 10, bought by burning off a fraction of one per cent of the cloth's mass. That is why singeing comes before printing and why nobody prints a fine figure on a raised cloth.$

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.

What a knit gives when it is pulled. Force against course-wise extension for a 20 tex cotton jersey at a 3.5 mm loop, computed from the loop's own bending with the relaxed shape as the yarn's natural one. The loop length is the same at every point on the curve: nothing here is the yarn stretching. It reaches 92% extension at 2.96 N per metre and then stiffens by a factor of 85 over the rest of the range, as the straight line between two interlacings runs up against the yarn between them. This is the number the collection's second phase recorded as a lower bound it could not compute, and it is still a lower bound in one respect: friction at the contacts is not in it, so a real fabric is stiffer than this and does not come back along the same curve.

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.

A loop is bent about as hard as its yarn allows. The tightest curvature anywhere on a relaxed loop, against the knitter's own tightness factor, in units of one over the yarn diameter — which is the curvature of a yarn wrapped hard round another of the same size, and the tightest bend any fabric asks for. Across the whole range a knitter can reach it stays between 0.73 and 1.27, crossing one at a tightness factor of about thirteen — which is where the trade's own usable band begins. Nothing arranged that. The only things imposed are the loop length, the yarn diameter and the two measured spacings, and the curvature is whatever the minimisation returns.

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 knitted loop is a plane curve in a plane that is not the fabric's. A relaxed 20 tex jersey at a 3.5 mm loop, seen from the end of a course. Each course is a straight line because it is one: a half period leaves and arrives along the course direction, so the plane it bends in contains that direction, and a plane curve seen along a line in its own plane projects to a segment. The upper panel expands the thickness 3× so the arrangement can be seen and no angle may be measured off it; the lower panel is the same fabric at one scale, where the tilt is what it really is. The angle is 11.75°: a climb of one yarn diameter, 0.167 mm, against a drop of a course spacing and a diameter, 0.803 mm. Successive courses overlap by exactly one diameter, which is the interlacing, and the fabric is therefore 0.334 mm thick — two yarn diameters, with nothing fitted.

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.

What the third dimension changes, and by how much. Every number the planar loop model produced, beside the same number with the climb in it, for a 20 tex cotton jersey at a 3.5 mm loop. Four of the five fall and none moves by as much as four per cent, which is the useful part of the answer: the planar model was not wrong about a jersey, it was a projection of the right curve. What it could not have at all is the quantity that is not on this list — the force through the fabric's thickness, 7.81 mN a stitch, which a model with no thickness has nowhere to put.

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.

What leaving the plane costs, which is less than nothing. Bending energy a stitch against how far the yarn climbs between one interlacing and the next, for a 20 tex cotton jersey at a 3.5 mm loop. The curve falls. A climb is not an extra bend added to a curve that was otherwise unchanged; it is part of the straight line the thread has to span, so a longer climb leaves less slack to be spent on curvature. At a jersey's own climb of one diameter the energy is 24395 nJ against 25060 for the planar model — 2.7% lower, where an earlier estimate on this site put the ride at three per cent of the loop's bending and had the sign the other way round. At a rib's climb of three or four diameters the fall is 33%.

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.

How much of a yarn has to hang before it stops snarling. The tension a 20 tex cotton needs to stay straight, at each twist level, expressed as the length of the yarn's own weight that would supply it. The two curves are the two ends of the stiffness bracket: the fibres free to slide, and the section coherent. At 800 turns a metre they are 1.9 metres and 616. Anybody who has let go of a twisted yarn knows which of those is right, which makes this one of very few places where the bracket can be closed from the everyday end. Both rise as the square of the twist, because the torque does and the criterion is quadratic in it.

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 slack twisted yarn takes a coil of one size. A 20 tex cotton at 800 turns a metre. Its own torque is 1.177 µN·mm at the free bound, and a rod under tension T is stable while its torque stays under 2·√(B·T). Below that tension the straight state stops being a minimum and the thread wraps on itself at a radius of 1.59 mm. That radius is 2B/M, which is 2/(r·ω) once the torque is written out: it depends on the twist and on the ratio of the two stiffnesses, and on neither stiffness itself.

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.

The flattening a knitted fabric asks for, against its own tightness. Every point is a solved fabric — 18 of them, over five loop lengths, three relaxation states and three counts — and the vertical axis is the closest its adjacent courses come, in diameters. The values run from 0.707 to 0.839 and they fall on one curve against the tightness factor, which is the model's only dimensionless group. That is what makes this a structural requirement rather than an arithmetical accident of one example: a tighter fabric demands a flatter yarn, by an amount its own tightness decides, and nothing about the fibre or the count enters except through that group.

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.

Two courses at the yarn's own width, and the place they overlap. The solved course of a 24.2 tex cotton jersey at a 3.5 mm loop, drawn in plan with the course below it, each strand at the yarn's own diameter of 0.184 mm. Where the two overlap, the fabric is occupying the same space twice. The interlacing is where the model placed them one diameter apart. The closest they come is 0.140 mm — 0.761 of a diameter — and it is not at the interlacing. A round yarn cannot occupy this arrangement; a yarn flattened to 76% of its round diameter can, and flattened is what a yarn in a fabric measurably is.

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 section the fabric asks for, beside the one the model drew. A 24.2 tex cotton yarn in cross-section, at 900 times life size. The circle is what every solve here has assumed: a diameter of 0.184 mm from the count and the packing factor. The ellipse has the same area and a minor axis of 76% of it, which is the closest the fabric's own adjacent courses come to one another — 0.140 mm. Nothing about that number was fitted to a fabric. It falls out of a solve that knew nothing about flattening, and it lands inside the range the trade reports for yarn in cloth, which has been carried here as a free parameter ever since it first put a number on a sett.

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 cotton yarn at a fold, at both ends of its bending bracket. The same 20 tex cotton yarn bent to a radius of 0.084 mm under the two assumptions this site's bending bracket is drawn between. If the fibres slide freely past one another each bends about its own middle and the surface strain is 7.14%; if they are locked the bundle bends as a rod and the outermost fibre is strained 100%. The ratio is 14.0, which is the ratio of the two diameters and therefore the square root of the fibre count over the packing — so the bracket of 327 this site carries in a stiffness is a bracket of 14.0 in a strain. What the drawing cannot show is which of the two a real yarn does, and the answer is settled by a refusal: at the tightest fold a cloth can make, the locked bound asks for a strain of one, and a creased cloth does not fall apart.

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 4-layer stack round a 180° fold. 4 layers of 260 µm cloth taken round a 180 degree fold, drawn as concentric arcs at their own separation. The outer layer runs round a larger radius than the inner one, so it must be longer — by the angle times the separation, which is 2.45 mm here and 0.82 mm at every interface. In a loose stack that length is found by the layers sliding over one another at the fold. In a stitched seam they cannot: the stitches pin them every 3 mm, so the slip a fold needs is 82 per cent of the distance between two stitches and has nowhere to come from. What the arcs cannot show is what happens instead, which is that the fold opens out to a radius the stack can manage.

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.

Which knitted structures present a float a raising wire could catch. Each of the named two-bed structures, with how many of its floats lie exposed on a face rather than inside the cloth. A plain jersey has no float at all; the ribs and the cardigans have none; the interlocks and milanos have floats and every one of them is interior, closed over by the other fabric. a single jersey with a float and a three-by-one rib with a float present an exposed float, on the back. So the criterion that decides which woven cloths can be napped decides the same question here and answers it for 2 of 13. What the bars cannot show is the hair layer, which a wire also catches and which no float census can see.

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.

6 tapered panels laid across a 150 cm cloth three ways. 6 panels 14 cm across the top, 32 cm across the bottom and 75 cm long, laid across a cloth 150 cm wide, drawn to scale. Turned end for end alternately, 6 fit side by side and the 6 take 75 cm of cloth. Laid all one way in lanes, 4 fit and they take 150 cm. Laid all one way with alternate columns shifted half a length, 5 columns fit and they take 150 cm. What the drawing cannot show is a real marker's other pieces, which fill the gaps these leave.

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.

Where a calender works, and where recovery has been measured. Each fibre's measured elastic-recovery span drawn against the shape strains a calender imposes, on one axis. The settings run from 11.2 per cent shape strain at a flattening of 1.25 to 54.9 per cent at 3. cotton is measured to 5 per cent; wool is measured to 20 per cent; silk is measured to 5 per cent; flax is measured to 2 per cent; viscose is measured to 5 per cent; nylon is measured to 8 per cent; polyester is measured to 8 per cent. Only wool reaches any setting at all, and only the lightest.

A calender works where nothing has been measured

This account has twice recorded that the missing piece is plasticity — what fraction of a flattening survives the nip. The piece is missing for a sharper reason than nobody having written it down. A calender's flattening is a shape strain, and at the lightest setting in this account's own series that is 11 per cent while cotton's elastic recovery is measured from 2 to 5. Six fibres of seven have no data at any setting the machine has, and wool reaches only the lightest. The law cannot be had from the measurements; what can be had is the bracket, and it is a factor of twenty-four.

How much plateau a cloth of stated cover can be given. The flat run a calender can put on a 200 micrometre yarn, against the cover the cloth already has. A thread may widen until it meets its neighbours, so the flattening is capped where the section's width equals the pitch; at a cover of 0.3 that is a flattening of 13.9 and 619 micrometres of plateau, and at 0.9 it is 1.32 and 53 micrometres. At full cover both are nothing.

A covered cloth cannot be calendered

A calender widens a section at conserved area, and a thread may widen until it meets its neighbours. So the flattening is capped by the cover the cloth already has — ×30 on a scrim, ×1.32 at a cover of nine tenths, and exactly one at full cover. The plateau a calender buys falls to nothing along with it, which makes the lustre a nip can add and the cloth's opacity the same constraint read twice: a cloth that cannot be seen through is a cloth a calender cannot help.

A calender's best cloth is the one its nip fills

A calender's lustre is a length of crown line times a width of plateau. A closer cloth has more crown line and less room to widen each thread into, and the product was expected to peak at some interior cover that would move with the weave. It does not peak at all on the cap alone — per unit of crown line it falls all the way from the most open cloth. The peak is made by the nip: a nip that flattens by f has one best cloth, the one it exactly fills, at a cover of d over the flattened width, and there the lustre is (f − 1)/f. No yarn, and no weave, moves it.

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 ring-dyed yarn worn flat, step by step. One cotton yarn dyed in a ring 20% of its radius deep, cut flat from the top by an abrader to five depths: worn to 10% of the radius, 1.9% of the yarn has gone and 0% of its width is white; worn to 20% of the radius, 5.2% of the yarn has gone and 0% of its width is white; worn to 30% of the radius, 9.4% of the yarn has gone and 39% of its width is white; worn to 45% of the radius, 16.8% of the yarn has gone and 58% of its width is white; worn to 70% of the radius, 31.2% of the yarn has gone and 74% of its width is white. The olive line is the cut face and the red bar above it is the part of the face that has reached the undyed core. Nothing is white until the cut passes the ring, and then the white arrives quickly. The section is a circle and the ring's edge is drawn sharp; a real yarn is neither, and its fibres migrate, so the core's edge is ragged.

A ring-dyed yarn whitens all at once

Rub a yarn that is dyed in a ring, and for a while nothing shows. The abrader takes off blue fibre, the cut face is blue, and the yarn looks as it did. Then the cut reaches the undyed core, and the white arrives with a vertical tangent, as the square root of the wear past the ring: one per cent of the radius more and an eighth of the width is white. A ring a fifth of the radius deep hides the first five per cent of the yarn's loss and shows half its width white by thirteen. A yarn dyed through never shows white at all. Denim's high-contrast fading is that threshold, drawn over a cloth.

A float fades late and hard, a crossing early and soft

Wear a ring-dyed face flat and the white arrives where the cut first passes the ring at a crown, which is the same depth for every weave. What differs is how much cloth has gone by then and how fast the white spreads after. A plain weave's crowns are points, cut through by almost nothing: it shows white after a fifth of a per cent of its thread and never shows much. A twill's floats are lines, cut along their length: a 3/1 twill shows nothing until more than one per cent has gone, then whitens faster than any plain weave can, 39 per cent of its face by a tenth worn against plain's 24. Denim's high-contrast fade is a float's; chambray's soft one is a crossing's.

A crease along a 3/1 twill's floats and one across them, worn alike. A strip of 3/1 twill of ring-dyed 50 tex warp and undyed weft folded round a 2 mm radius, the ridge drawn across the page as a dashed line, worn by a flat abrader 50 µm into the ridge: above, with the ridge running along the warp and its floats; below, running across them. Dyed warp dark, bared core red, weft pale. crease along the warp: 83% of the crease's length white, in runs 1.72 mm long on average, the longest 2.08 mm; crease across the warp: 31% of the crease's length white, in runs 0.15 mm long on average, the longest 0.17 mm. On a twill the white along the warp lies in lines as long as a float's crown, across it in dashes one end wide; on a plain weave, with no floats, both are short. What the drawing cannot show is the fibre a real crease tears loose, which blurs every edge here.

A crease across a twill fades in dashes

A garment is not worn flat. It is worn along its folds, where the ridge of a crease stands out and is rubbed first, so the fade follows the crease. On a ring-dyed 3/1 twill a crease running along the warp bares the cores of the floats that lie under its ridge, float by float, and reads as a white line broken only where each float dives: at fifty micrometres of wear, 83 per cent of its length is white, in runs of 1.7 millimetres. The same crease across the warp meets every float at one point and reads as a row of dots, 31 per cent white in dashes of 0.15 millimetres, one end wide. It bares much the same core. A plain weave's creases are dashes whichever way they run.

One crease at four angles to a 3/1 twill's warp, worn alike. Four strips of 3/1 twill of ring-dyed 50 tex warp and undyed weft, each folded round a 2 mm radius with the ridge drawn across the page, worn 50 µm into the ridge by a flat abrader, 24 mm of crease each. Dyed warp dark, bared core red, weft pale. along the warp (0° from the warp): 80% of the crease white, its longest white run 2.0 mm; along the twill's line (33.7° from the warp): 100% of the crease white, its longest white run 45.0 mm; two degrees off the line (35.7° from the warp): 79% of the crease white, its longest white run 15.7 mm; along the other diagonal (-33.7° from the warp): 66% of the crease white, its longest white run 1.0 mm. Along the twill's line the white never breaks, because the crease meets the crown of every end's float in turn; two degrees off, it runs as long strokes that drift off the line of crowns and come back. What the drawing cannot show is the fibre a real crease tears loose.

A crease along the twill fades as one line

A crease along the warp of a ring-dyed 3/1 twill fades as broken lines a float long, and across it as dashes one end wide. Turn the crease to the twill's own diagonal and it fades as a single white line with no break in it at all: the fold meets the crown of one end's float, then the next end's one pick along, then the next, and every crown it meets is at the same place in its float. It is the one direction in which the weave and the crease line up — and two degrees off it the line breaks into strokes whose length is a vernier's.

$A 50 tex yarn after 1, 4, 8 dips into a fibre that fills. The cross-section of a 50 tex cotton yarn after 1, 4, 8 twenty-second dips, each fibre shaded by the dye fixed at its distance from the surface, on one scale of shade for all three. The fibre's room for dye is finite and one dip at the bath's strength fills 20% of an empty fibre's, so each dip meets less affinity near the surface than the last and carries its dye further in. after 1 dip: ring 14% of the radius deep, the surface 20% full; after 4 dips: ring 18% of the radius deep, the surface 59% full; after 8 dips: ring 24% of the radius deep, the surface 83% full. With room to spare every dip would leave the first dip's 14%. The share is assumed; nothing here measures it.$

A fibre that fills dyes deeper with every dip

Dipped eight times, a ring-dyed yarn is darker than after one dip but no deeper — if its fibres have room for all the dye they are offered. They do not: every dip's dye occupies some of the fibre's room, the next dip meets less affinity near the surface, and dye that is taken up less travels further before it is taken. How much further depends on one number the dip arithmetic never needed — the share of an empty fibre's room one dip fills — and eight dips turn that number into a ring 1.15 times deeper at five per cent and 1.68 times deeper at twenty.

$A 50 tex yarn after eight dips, with its pores open and filling. The cross-section of a 50 tex cotton yarn after eight twenty-second dips into a fibre one dip fills by 20%, each fibre shaded by the dye fixed at its distance from the surface, on one scale of shade. open pores: the ring 24% of the radius deep, the surface 83% full; the dark shade's pigment, all in the pores: the ring 22% of the radius deep, the surface 83% full; pores 90% filled at a full fibre: the ring 16% of the radius deep, the surface 83% full. One dip leaves 14%. The middle section is the most a dark denim's indigo could clog its pores, every grain placed in them; the right is a clog no denim's pigment is large enough to make.$

Indigo is too little to close the pores it dyes through

Each dip of a fibre that fills carries its dye deeper, because the dye already fixed near the surface leaves less room there. But indigo is fixed as a solid, and some of it sits in the pores the next dip has to travel through, so a heavily dyed skin should also hold the next dip back. The two pull opposite ways, and which wins is decided by how much pigment there is. A dark denim's indigo, every grain of it placed in the pores, fills at most a fifth of them at the surface and takes back about a seventh of the ring's deepening — under two micrometres. The surface fills at the same rate whatever the pores do, so two cross-sections still tell the two effects apart.

The ring across eight dips, for each fibre. The ring's depth after each of eight twenty-second dips, where an empty fibre left in the bath for good would fill by 20% a dip. instant fibre: 14.0% after one and 23.5% after eight; τ = 20 s: 13.0% after one and 19.6% after eight; τ = 100 s: 23.1% after one and 26.1% after eight; τ = 400 s: 35.5% after one and 36.6% after eight. An instant fibre earns its ring by saturating the skin dip by dip. A slow one starts near its final depth, since it never fills its skin.

A slow fibre starts its ring deep

Every account of an indigo dip here lets a cotton fibre take its dye at once. Give the fibre a clock of its own and the ring does not simply run deeper, which is what the question seemed to ask. A clock of a few seconds makes the ring shallower, by nearly a fifth at most, and only past about twenty-six seconds does it run deeper than an instant fibre's. Two sections tell the accounts apart that one cannot: an instant fibre earns its ring dip by dip, from 14 to 23.5 per cent of the radius over eight dips, and a fibre with a hundred-second clock starts at 23 and ends at 26.

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