The thread: Exactly this many
Weaves as plane patterns
A draft is a periodic pattern with two states, so its symmetry is two-coloured. Some operations leave warp-up as warp-up and others exchange the two, and only a balanced weave has any of the second kind.
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.
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.
The harness does not grow
Nearly every account of a loom says the shaft count limits the repeat. It limits the repeat of a straight draw, and of nothing else — a reversed twill on ninety-six ends weaves on the same four shafts as the twill it was made from, and the ratio grows without bound.
What a dobby stores
A pattern chain does not store picks. It stores lifts — the distinct sets of shafts a draft ever raises — and for most drafts worth weaving that number is very much smaller than the number of picks, which is the second half of the reason a wide repeat is affordable.
There is no satin on six ends
Weavers have known it as a rule for centuries. It is a theorem with a one-line proof about common factors, and it rules out four ends as well.
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.
A jacquard is every end its own shaft
The machine is usually described as the one that weaves anything. What it actually does is abolish one of the loom's two budgets and make the other proportional to the width of the repeat — which turns a constraint on the design's kind into a constraint on its size, and those are very different things to be short of.
The seventeen groups a draft can have
Twelve of them, in fact. The five missing ones all need a three-fold rotation, and no grid of warp and weft admits one at any size — which makes it a theorem rather than an artefact of the census.
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 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.
Warp knitting, which is a different thing entirely
Every wale has its own thread, and if the thread never leaves its wale the fabric is a set of independent cords. Whether a lapping makes cloth is decided by a coprimality condition — the satin theorem, in a knit.
Colour and weave as a two-colour problem
Where the two threads crossing are the same colour, the intersection looks identical whichever is on top. Half of them are, so 22,874 drafts collapse onto 256 surfaces — eighty-nine weaves apiece, and no way to tell them apart.
Peirce against the racetrack, measured
Two models of a yarn's cross-section, given the same yarn and the same closure condition, agree on how densely the cloth can be set and disagree by nearly half on how thick it is. Which quantity is being asked about decides whether the choice of model matters at all.
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 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 damask is its own complement
The pattern is carried by direction alone. Figure and ground are the same satin, one warp-face and one weft-face, with the same longest float, the same shaft count and the same threading — so the cloth's most famous effect costs it no structural difference whatever between the two areas.
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.
Every cloth there is, at four by four
Sixty-five thousand matrices, twenty-two thousand weaves, and about a dozen with names. The complete census of the smallest interesting repeat is a map of a whole small world, and almost none of it has ever been woven.
How many cloths are there
Twenty-two thousand eight hundred and seventy-four four-by-four drafts. Four hundred and twenty-six four-by-four cloths. And the site's own separation rate — the fraction of drafts that look like fabric and are not — more than doubles when fabrics are counted instead of notations, which is the opposite of what was expected.
What a second guide bar is for
One warp-knit bar leaves the wales in as many independent fabrics as its shog shares factors with the width. Two bars leave the greatest common divisor of both — so a pair of shogs that each fail alone can succeed together, and a pair that share a factor cannot.
Watered silk is a beat
Fold a ribbed cloth on itself and press it, and a figure appears at a scale neither ply has — fifty times the rib pitch, wandering across the piece. It is the difference of two wavevectors, it is enormous because the angle is tiny, and no two pieces match because no two are folded at the same angle.
What a repeat repeats
Point paper is ruled in squares, and the rectangle a draft is written on is a decision by whoever drew it. The unit a cloth actually has is smaller — two intersections for a plain weave, four for a 2/2 twill — and it is not a rectangle at all.
How many layers a draft can have
Of the 22,874 four-by-four drafts this site sweeps, 22,730 are one cloth and 144 are two. None is three, and none can be — a repeat of n ends holds at most n halved cloths, because every cloth needs two ends and two picks of its own before it interlaces at all.
Knit, tuck and miss
A weave is a matrix over two symbols and a weft knit is a matrix over three. The site's central question survives the translation intact: a weave falls apart when its above-and-below relation is disconnected, and a knit falls apart when a needle never knits.
The angle a hose wants
A braided hose has one angle at which pressure neither lengthens it nor shortens it, and the angle is arctan √2 — 54.74° — with no friction coefficient, no modulus and no fitted constant in it. Two arguments that share no algebra arrive at the same number, and which side of it a hose was braided on decides which way it moves.
The reed leaves its own mark
A reed does not space a warp evenly. It groups it, several ends to a dent, and the grouping beats against the weave repeat — so a denting that shares a factor with the repeat treats every repeat identically and shows as a stripe, and one that does not is invisible.
A stripe is a partition of the warp
A striped cloth is not a weave with decoration on it — it is one matrix in which different bands of ends obey different rules. The shaft count is a set union rather than a sum, and of forty-five pairs of standard weaves only three share a single column.
Four ways to write a weave down
A weave's name in the trade is a pair of numbers — 2/2, 3/1, five-end satin — and the notation is so universal that it is easy to forget it is a notation. It has an image and the image is computable: of the 426 cloths at four by four, five have a name of that kind, and there are four names for the five.
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.
What a tuck costs
A knitted loop is about four wale spacings of yarn and a float across one needle is exactly one, so replacing a knit with a miss removes three quarters of a loop. That much is a count. What it does to the fabric's size is not, and this essay is careful about which is which.
A check is two stripes and a tartan is one
A tartan is quoted as one sett of thread counts because the warp and the weft carry the same order. That is said to make it symmetric about its diagonal, and the arithmetic says it cannot be — the ceiling is three quarters, and a 2/2 twill reaches one half.
Pulled both ways, only one can give
A cloth at constant thread length has one degree of freedom, so its reachable states are a curve rather than a region. Equal extension in both directions meets that curve at exactly one point — the state the cloth is already in — so the amount available is nought.
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 figure is not a stripe
Two sound weaves side by side always make sound cloth — that is a theorem, and it was proved here. Put one of them inside a *region* instead of a band and it stops being true, and whether it is true or not turns out to depend on a number that appears nowhere in either draft: where the two weaves start relative to each other.
A hemisphere costs one full turn
The total angle a pattern must remove to cover a hemisphere is exactly 360 degrees, and it is the same for a hat and for a stadium dome. What changes with the fabric is how much of that the cloth can supply by shearing instead of by being cut — and that is a property of the sett, computed from the angle at which its threads jam.
A second bed changes what a float is
Every float so far has been on a surface, because every knit so far has had one needle bed. Put a bed behind it and the yarn runs in the gap between them — and over the whole enumeration of two-bed structures, 1,248 floats of 1,272 lie inside the cloth, on no surface at all.
Designing to a float limit
Every jacquard designer works to a rule of the form nothing longer than four. It reads as a constraint on a drawing. It is really a statement about how much of the catalogue exists, and the catalogue shrinks as the repeat grows.
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.
Does a double jersey hang together
Two beds knitting with nothing passing between them are two fabrics that happen to have been made at once. Of 6,561 two-bed arrays, 1,135 are fabrics and 50 of those are two fabrics — and 28 of the 50 split across the beds rather than along them, so neither half is a layer.
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 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.
What a figure costs the loom
A block design's shaft count does not depend on how wide the figure is, or how deep, or how many blocks it has. It depends on how many *different* block-columns it has, and each new one costs exactly one repeat of the ground weave — 8 shafts, then 16, then 24, in a straight line with no slope to fit.
What holds a pick in
A plain weave grips its weft by the crimp, and the crimp's wrap angle falls towards nothing as the cloth opens out. A leno crossing is half a turn whatever the sett. So the comparison has an exact answer that does not depend on the friction coefficient at all — and no plain weave can ever reach a leno's grip.
Which satins are worth weaving
Manuals give the moves a satin admits as a list, as though the survivors were interchangeable. They are not. Measure how far apart the interlacings sit and the traditional counter turns out to be the best move at the orders a weaver mostly uses — and to fail first at thirteen, where the square root names four and five scatters further.
A fashioned edge has a quantised angle
A knitted panel is shaped by transferring loops, so its edge steps by whole wales at whole courses and its angle is the arctangent of a fraction. The available angles turn out to be the same for every plain knit there has ever been — in any yarn, at any gauge, at any loop length — because the constant they scale by cancels the loop out. There are eighteen of them, and 16.67° between the last two.
A woven outline is a staircase
A jacquard's resolution is quoted as its hook count, and on a 1,200-hook machine 140 cm wide that is a step of 1.17 mm. The cloth cannot use it. A figure's smallest feature is one repeat of the ground weave, which on an eight-end satin is 3.33 mm — so the machine resolves nearly three times finer than the fabric can hold, and a finer machine buys nothing at all.
How many shafts a draft needs
Every quantity this site has counted so far is a property of the cloth. This one is a property of the loom — the number of distinct columns in the matrix — and it is very probably the strongest single predictor of which of the twenty-two thousand four-by-four drafts anybody ever wove.
How many twills a repeat admits
Sixty-four ways of writing a twill on eight ends, and twenty-one twills. The difference is two operations that leave the cloth unchanged, and a catalogue that does not quotient by them is counting notations rather than fabrics.
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 figure is harder on its warp
Every basic weave flexes all its ends exactly as often as each other — plain, twill, satin and sateen alike, and it is a one-line theorem. Figure one of them on another and that evenness goes, or does not, depending on where the ground weave was started relative to the figure. The same invisible offset that decides whether a fine figure holds together decides, at a coarse one, how unevenly the loom works the warp.
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 rectangular block is not half a rule
The block rule was proved for square blocks and the rectangular case was recorded as not run, on the grounds that a block a repeat wide and half a repeat deep satisfies only half the condition. Running it turns up two things: half the condition rules out the failure nobody can see, and a block turned through a right angle is a different design — which a square census cannot notice, because a square block is its own transpose.
A tube can only be shaped by its loop
On a circular machine the needle count is the cylinder, so a seamless tube's circumference is its wale count times its wale spacing — and the wale spacing is the loop length over one constant. The loop is the only free quantity, the yarn bounds it at both ends, and what is left is a taper of 18.8 per cent bought at the price of a fabric half again as dense.
Where the heddles go
A draft says how many shafts it needs and says nothing about how the ends divide between them. On a satin stripe over a plain ground the two ground shafts carry twenty times what the stripe shafts do — and the only cure is to spend shafts, which turns the threading into an allocation problem with an exact answer.
A crepe cannot be structureless
A crepe weave is designed to have no line in it anywhere. The correlations of a draft with itself sum to a number fixed by the repeat alone, so structure can be spread and never removed — and on eight ends the floor turns out to be half the repeat, set by a fact about binary words with nothing textile in it.
A 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 tube and two cloths are the same draft
Two separate fabrics, a cloth twice the width of the loom and a seamless tube are the same draft to the last square. The check this site is built on reports two layers for all three and is right every time — because the thing that separates them is four free selvedges, or two, or none, and a repeat has no selvedges in it.
A yarn's voids are not enough
A ring-spun cotton yarn is sixty per cent fibre and forty per cent air, and its fibres gain forty-four per cent of area in water. The obvious thought is that the air takes it. The arithmetic says the air cannot, and gives a floor on how far the yarn itself must grow with no measurement of a yarn in it anywhere.
The setts a loom can reach
Transposing a draft gives a perfectly good draft, and every count this site takes off a matrix either is symmetric under exchanging warp and weft or has a mirror twin. The loom is not symmetric at all: over the range ordinary cloth is woven in, it can choose a pick density 99 times more finely than a warp sett — and the warp sett cannot be changed once the warp is drawn in, at any granularity whatever.
A figured cloth has a step in its surface
A damask is one cloth in one set of threads at one sett, and it is not flat. A thread presses on the thread it crosses only where it turns, so a region that turns less often is pressed less often, flattens less and stands thicker — and the step is a ratio of interlacing rates, read off the matrix with no yarn property in it.
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 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.
Where a stitch can hide
One reversed intersection turns two cloths into one, and half the intersections in the repeat would do it. Almost none of them may be used — a plain-faced double cloth has nowhere at all to put a stitch, a five-end satin has fifteen places or none depending on which rule is asked, and two satins of the same order differ by a factor of two.
A shading changes two things at once
The tone steps of a shaded damask are exactly even — each adds one satin coset, so the fraction of warp on the face is k over n with no averaging in it. The lustre steps are not even at all: on eight ends the longest float runs 7, 3, 3, 1, 3, 3, 7, so a series that grades smoothly in tone is at its most matt exactly in the middle.
The harness has a depth
Why does a dobby carry sixteen or twenty-four shafts rather than two hundred? The usual answers are about the mechanism — how many jacks a box can drive, how many hooks a dobby has — and they are real limits that are not the binding one. A stated tolerance on warp strain is a stated distance from the fell, and a stated distance is a whole number of shafts. One per cent buys thirteen.
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.
The most a cloth can give back
The extension a cloth can find without stretching a thread comes from crimp, so setting a cloth closer ought to give it more. It does, up to a point, and then takes it away again — and the point is a cover factor of 0.4078 at a budget of 7.2857 per cent, identical to six figures for every yarn count from five tex to a hundred.
Wicking is slower along a crimped thread
A front travelling up a warp end travels the thread's path, which is longer than the cloth by exactly the crimp. So the wicking coefficient measured on the fabric is the yarn's own divided by (1 + c)² — 14.3 per cent lost at eight per cent crimp, whatever the liquid.
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.
The three basic weaves do not generate the rest
Every weaving manual opens with the same sentence: there are three basic weaves, and everything else is derived from them. The complete catalogue of the smallest interesting repeat is in hand, so the claim can be checked instead of repeated. Starting from plain weave, every twill and every satin, and applying every derivation the manuals name, reaches nine of the 426 cloths that exist there.
Two layers are the product on average and nowhere
Everybody knows what two layers of a cloth pass: the product of their open areas. That figure is exactly right — it is the mean of the true answer over every way the two layers can lie — and it is the answer at two registrations out of a continuum. In register a doubled cloth is as open as a single one; half a thread out it can be shut completely. The variation across a folded curtain is what a moiré is.
What combining two weaves reaches
The account before it found that the manuals' own operations on their own basic weaves reach nine of the 426 four-by-four cloths, and recorded one exclusion honestly: combination — striping, checking and figuring — was left out, because a combination of two four-end weaves is eight ends wide and so is not a four-by-four cloth at all. Admitting it triples the reach and leaves ninety-three per cent of the catalogue outside.
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 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 float presses on nothing
The rung below expected the float correction to change how a satin's hold compares with a plain weave's, by something like the ratio of their interlacing rates. It does not change the comparison at all — the interlacing rate leaves the answer outside the logarithm and divides straight out of any ratio. What it changes is the absolute answer, by a factor of four, for every weave alike.
A knit has no hole to lose
Every argument in this ladder is planar: threads at a spacing, a rectangle between four of them, a channel down it. Applied to a jersey it returns nothing at all, and the nothing is the finding. A loop's occupancy is its diameter times Munden's own stitch-density constant over its loop length, with no gauge and no fabric dimension in it — and the whole commercial range of tightness is on the wrong side of the threshold.
A random error hides and a periodic one shows
A warp whose threads vary by fifteen per cent looks perfectly even. One dent of the reed a tenth of a millimetre wide makes a streak that gets the piece rejected. The same amount of error, arranged two ways — and the ratio between them is √(2n/π), with nothing fitted in it.
The half of the beat-up that is all zone
The elastic half of the beat-up force is exact and the length of the beat-up zone cancels out of it, which is this site's own result and disagrees with every practical account of weaving. The frictional half is nothing but zone — and requiring the total to match the force a loom is actually built to apply puts the number of picks still sliding at about one.
A knee is a dome imposed a thousand times
A flat sheet of inextensible threads takes a double curvature only by shearing, and how much shear it needs depends on how far round the dome it has to reach — not on how big the dome is. So a knee and a beach ball demand the same, and a trouser knee covered to its own equator is at 85 per cent of the angle at which the threads touch side by side.
A wet cloth is set closer than it was woven
Cover is a diameter over a spacing. Wetting moves the diameter and does not move the spacing, so every cover factor on this site is multiplied by exactly the swelling ratio and every jamming sett divided by it — which is an identity, and the one statement in this ladder a reader can check by hand.
The six-end satin that does exist
There is no six-end satin, and this collection proved it in its founding essays. The proof is about satins with a move number. Drop that word — keep one mark per end and no two marks touching — and six ends has exactly one satin, unique up to where the repeat is started, and four ends still has none at all.
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.
A cloth has one budget for two directions
A woven cloth looks as though it carries two independent reserves of free extension, one along the warp and one across the weft. It carries one. There is a single curve of states and a single position on it, so every hundredth spent one way is refunded the other — which means a pre-tensioned cloth has not used its recovery up, it has moved it.
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 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.
The curve that says what a cloth touches with
Take a cloth's surface and ask what fraction of the plan lies within a given depth of its highest point. The answer is one curve, it answers every question of the form what does this touch, and its behaviour at the top is decided by a single bit of the draft — whether the longest float is one crossing or more than one.
The construction a loom must be set to
A specification quotes ends and picks per centimetre in the finished cloth, and a loom is set to neither of them. The cloth relaxes to the least-energy state of its own locus, which is a state at a different sett — and because the locus is one curve, the two numbers a specification quotes are not two free numbers.
Two drafts of twenty-two thousand
Every four-by-four draft there is, measured by how much horizontal crown line its surface carries. Two of them carry none — the plain weave and its translation, and nothing else in the catalogue — and the quantity turns out to be smallest for the most balanced cloths and largest for the most one-sided, which is the opposite of what a float count suggests.
A tensioned cloth loses its load
Clamp a fabric at a fixed length and its tension falls overnight. Nothing crept and nothing flowed: the crossings rearranged locally until the load had dropped to what friction alone can hold, and that level is the same number whatever the cloth was pulled to — so the harder it was tensioned, the smaller the share it keeps.
Only a plain weave has one size of hole
A weave's holes come in kinds, and the kinds are read off the matrix. Asking which weaves have only one kind looks like a question with an obvious answer and a one-line proof. Every draft at four by four was built and asked instead, and the count came back fourteen — of which twelve turn out to be telling the truth about the sett rather than about the weave.
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.
One minus the cover is a cloth with no thickness
The covering rule says a cloth's openness is one minus its cover factor, and this collection derived it and has used it ever since. It is the answer for a light directly behind the cloth. Move the light and a line of sight has to clear the hole at the top of the fabric and the same hole one thickness below, so the openness falls, and it reaches nothing at thirty-six degrees. Averaged over the whole sky a muslin is a seventh as open as the rule says.
A pile is the only surface with no crowns
Every other fabric touches on the tops of curved threads, so its contact vanishes as the load goes to zero and the pressure on what is touching rises without limit. A cut pile touches on flat ends left in one plane by a blade — so its contact is finite at no load at all, its pressure concentration is bounded, and it is the only fabric whose abrasion mass loss is an honest measure of its damage.
A loop is nine tenths free run
Half the yarn in a knitted stitch is slack — the straight line between two interlacings is a little over half the thread available to span it. That is two orders of magnitude more room than a woven thread has, and it is why a knitted loop is a shape that can be solved rather than a shape that has to be constructed.
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.
What a missing end does to the weave
Every four-by-four draft there is, with each of its four ends taken away in turn: ninety-one thousand cloths, and not one of them falls into layers. What happens instead is worse, and the criterion has never had to report it before.
The relaxed knit is not at a minimum
Differentiate a loop's bending energy along the fabric instead of across it and the answer should be zero, because a relaxed fabric is one nothing is pulling. It is not zero. It is tens of newtons a metre, downhill in both directions at once — and the three relaxation states everybody measures run the wrong way up the slope.
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 mispick is one row in the wrong place
Every four-by-four draft, with each of its picks replaced by every shed the loom could have made instead: a million and a third substitutions. Two thirds leave a cloth that still hangs together, a third leave a thread held by nothing, and the same wrong shed is harmless in one draft and fatal in another.
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.
A leno twists what a weave only crosses
Every woven cloth's threads have a linking number of zero, and that is why an open cloth slips. A leno is the one woven structure whose warp ends wind about one another, so it is the one whose threads are linked — and it is famously the structure that holds at setts where nothing else does.
What a knit gives when it is pulled
How far a knit stretches by rearranging its loops is usually given as a bound rather than a number, because saying more needs a loop with bending stiffness in it. Solved from the loop's own bending, the answer is a curve: soft for a hundred per cent, then stiffening by a factor of eighty as the yarn between two interlacings runs out of ways to be anywhere but straight.
Which weave hides a fault
The trade says a busy weave hides a mistake. Every four-by-four draft there is was laid out as cloth and given every wrong lift it could have, and ninety-nine in a hundred hand that single mistake a float of seven — because a reversal does not lengthen a float, it joins two.
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 yarn breaks at its thinnest place
A tensile test does not measure a yarn. It measures the worst section between the clamps — so evenness and strength are one measurement taken twice, and the number of independent tries in a specimen is set by the length of a fibre.
Two hairiness meters read two moments
The trade has two instruments for yarn hairiness and thirty years of failing to predict either from the other. They are not measuring the same thing badly. One reports the first moment of a distribution and the other reports a tail probability, and two functionals of one curve are related only through a parameter neither of them reports.
A jersey gets taller before it gets shorter
Pull a knit along its courses and the first thing it does is grow along its wales — by two per cent, over the first eighty per cent of extension, before it turns round and contracts. The transverse response changes sign, and there is no material in the explanation at all.
A braid is a third way to hold threads
Weaving holds by friction and knitting holds by linking. A braid does neither: its strands travel across the structure and back, so no pair of them is linked and no pair of them returns to where it started — and it holds without a reed, a beat-up or a sett.
A tone step does not need a satin
Every account of shading builds its tone steps out of satin cosets, and at four ends and at six there is no satin to build them from. The construction was never about satins: what a tone step actually needs is that every end and every pick carry the same number of marks, which makes a chain of them a Latin square. A four-end repeat has twenty-four of those and a six-end repeat 1,128,960.
A finer yarn is a worse yarn
Fineness is the thing a yarn is priced for, and it is bought with irregularity at a fixed exchange rate. Once the spread is a function of the count, every correction this collection computes becomes a function of the count too — and the cheapest yarn on the shelf is the one the arithmetic describes best.
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 weave is a halftone screen with n greys
An eight-by-eight cell of dots gives a printer sixty-five levels of grey. The same cell in cloth gives seven. Sixteen of the missing fifty-eight go to the requirement that every thread reach both faces and forty-two go to the requirement that every thread carry the same number of marks — so evenness, not interlacing, is what a weave pays for its tone scale.
An interchange joins what a stitch would have had to
The rung below spent a whole essay on where a stitch may be put in a double cloth, and found face weaves with nowhere to put one at all. A design in which the two layers change places from block to block needs no stitch anywhere: the boundary is the join. Two blocks side by side make one cloth with not a single intersection reversed, and the same two blocks with no boundary between them make two.
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 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.
A colour order beats the weave it is threaded on
The reed's grouping beats against the weave repeat and the arithmetic is a least common multiple. A colour order is a second grouping of the same warp and the arithmetic is identical — but where the reed's beat is a fault to be dented out of a cloth, the colour order's beat is the pattern the cloth is sold for. Across 472 colour orders on four weaves the divisor bound is the surface's exact repeat in 470 or more, and the handful that beat it have no pattern left at all.
Folding is untwisting
Wind two singles round each other and each one turns about its own axis once per turn of the fold. So a folded yarn's singles are not the singles that went into it, and at a folding ratio of exactly one half the two helices cancel.
Lustre is a length times a width
The specular area of a cloth factors exactly: a length of crown line, which the draft supplies, times a width of section within the tolerance, which the yarn and the finish supply. Neither factor knows anything about the other, and over the four-by-four catalogue the first alone spans a factor of sixty.
A moiré is a vernier, and it magnifies the error too
Two gratings a per cent apart in pitch beat at a hundred pitches, so a moiré reads a pitch difference at a hundred times — which is what a vernier is. The magnification is free and its ceiling is not: the fringes split when one thread's own spacing error reaches 0.84 of the pitch difference the beat is built on, so the usable gain is 0.84 divided by the cloth's coefficient of variation, inversely and not inverse-squarely. At an ordinary yarn's spacing irregularity, a moiré carries a magnification of five.
The repeat allows four layers and the loom allows two
A repeat of eight ends can hold four separable cloths, and the site has a witness that reaches the bound exactly. No loom weaves four. The harness's strain budget buys thirteen shafts and a layer costs its own weave's shaft count, so five-end satin layers stop at two and eight-end satin layers cannot be doubled on a dobby at all — and two differing layers already want a beam each. The notation's ceiling is the only one of the three that is never binding.
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.
Where a two-bed fabric's yarn is
Thirteen named structures, and for each of them the share of its yarn that crosses between the beds — read off its own traverse rather than quoted. It separates the fabrics into three groups, and one of the groups turns out not to be a fabric at all.
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 damask's edge floats further than its figure
Figure and ground in a damask carry the same longest float, which is true of both areas and false along the line between them. A float can cross the edge where two tones meet, and when one tone's marks lie inside the other's it can never be longer than a float either tone already has. A damask built as an exact complement is the one place in n that its ground can start which breaks this, and it floats n picks at its edge against n − 1 inside.
A cloth compresses along its own bearing curve
A fabric's pressure–thickness curve is always fitted with an empirical power law and the exponent is reported without explanation. It is not empirical. At light loads it is two thirds for any weave carrying a float and one half for a weave carrying none, and the two numbers come out of one line of algebra with nothing fitted in it.
Turn the cloth and the shine changes hands
A warp crown's normals all lie in the plane across the warp and have no component along it, so a warp float can only mirror light that arrives from across the warp. Turn the cloth a quarter turn and the weft takes over. That is the whole of shot silk — a geometric effect with no dye that changes and no interference in it.
A rib is quietest at two diameters
Open the beds of a rib and everything about it should get stronger. It does not. The through-thickness force falls to a minimum at a bed gap of exactly two yarn diameters and rises on both sides of it, because a crossing's climb and an interlacing's own climb cancel there.
Why a knit runs and a weave frays
The two fabrics fail in two ways and everybody knows which is which. This collection has described both accurately for eighteen phases without being able to say what causes them, and the cause turns out to be one integer each: nought for a cloth, one per wale for a knit.
Two sheers make a moiré that walks with the viewer
Hang two identical sheer curtains a few centimetres apart and a moiré appears with no angle between them and no difference in their threads. Perspective alone makes the far one look finer. The fringes are p·V/D apart, which means they cover the same angle from every distance; they move one for one with a person walking past, which is the parallax of the horizon; and a far layer stretched by one per cent makes them vanish at exactly one distance, which says which layer is coarser and by how much.
A crepe is flat in its draft and not in its surface
A crepe weave is chosen by pushing the draft's correlations as flat as they will go. That criterion turns out to tie: on the base this collection uses, 4,416 of the 5,040 rearrangements reach the floor. Sixteen of them additionally spread their crown line perfectly evenly — and the crepe actually drawn is not one of the sixteen.
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.
Which knitted fabrics lie flat
Curl was explained here by counting face changes between courses, which works for stockinette and garter and reaches nothing else. The same question turns out to be a signed sum over a structure's own grid — and it answers for every fabric a two-bed machine can make, including the ones nobody has a rule for.
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.
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 weft stripe is counted in pairs of picks
A warp's colour order is laid out once at warping and the loom never has to think about it. A weft's is thrown, one pick at a time, by shuttles that cross the cloth and stay where they land. On a loom with boxes at one side that makes every coloured band an even number of picks; with boxes at both sides it admits odd bands and pays for them in shuttles; and a tartan, which uses one order in both directions, is designed for its weft whether its designer knew it or not.
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.
How thick a knit is
Two centre lines pass at a diameter and each has a radius on either side, so a plain jersey is two yarn diameters thick with nothing fitted. It does not depend on the gauge, it lands inside the band of this collection's woven cloths, and it is lower than any gauge will read.
A woven cloth is not linked at all
Every thread in every woven cloth passes over its neighbours and comes back. None of them passes through. So the linking number of any two threads in any weave is zero, at any crimp, permanently — and almost everything a cloth does that a knitted fabric does not follows from that one number being nought.
No weave draws an unbroken line one thread wide
A pinstripe is drawn on point paper as a single coloured column, and in cloth a single end is on the face only where it is up — so in every weave that interlaces, a line one thread wide has gaps in it. Neighbours of the same colour fill each other's gaps, and the fewest that leave no gap is a property of the weave: two in a plain weave, three in a 2/2 twill, and in a warp-faced sateen two across the warp and eight across the weft. Unbroken is not solid either — an eight-pick bar in that sateen has no gap and is an eighth light.
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 jersey's course has no writhe
The mechanism everybody quotes for why a hard-twisted jersey leans is that the fabric relieves the yarn's twist by writhing. This collection's own solved course has a writhe of minus six parts in a million, and it is not small — it is exactly zero, by a symmetry, and the symmetry is a statement about what the model left out.
A repeat has to fit the width
A repeat tiles the plane and a warp has two edges, so somewhere between them a repeat is cut through. The set of repeat widths that divide a warp exactly is the set of divisors of its body, and a body of a few thousand ends has a few dozen — two to eight per cent of the candidates. So a designer choosing a repeat for any reason except the width chooses one that does not fit, and the leftover averages half a repeat, split between the two selvedges.
What a loop presses with
A knitted loop hangs on the loop below it and presses on it with a force nobody has been able to state. Solved from the loop's own bending it comes to about forty millinewtons a stitch — an order of magnitude under a woven crossing's, by two independent routes that have nothing in common.
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 point cannot link
A knitted fabric of n wales has a linking number of n between every pair of adjacent courses. This collection's model of the same fabric has zero, and it has zero because the interlacing was declared to be a point where two centre lines pass a diameter apart — which is a near miss, and a near miss is not a knot.
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.
A net over a voile beats through a harmonic
Two identical sheers hung apart make a moiré by perspective alone. A net in front of a voile is not two identical sheers — its mesh is five times the voile's pitch — and it beats anyway, through the net's fifth harmonic, which is a grid 3.3 per cent coarser than the voile. With the net behind, that is a pair of sheers with its coarser layer at the back, and the fringes vanish at exactly 1.5 metres. Closer in, the harmonic changes, the fringes dissolve into a texture twice the net's pitch and re-form, and they vanish again at 17 centimetres.
A profile draft is a notation whose alphabet is weaves
The rung below measured four notations for a single weave and left open the notations for something larger. A profile draft is the first of them: a grid of blocks, each carrying a figure weave or a ground weave. Its image is enumerable and it is tiny — every pair of two-by-two weaves against every assignment of two-by-two blocks reaches 306 of the 22,874 interlacing four-by-four drafts, which is 1.34 per cent. And the 306 are the ones anybody weaves.
A six-end shading can be even or have a plain centre, not both
A six-end repeat can be split into the parts a shading is built from in 1,128,960 ways, and every one of them has now been walked. Only 2,816 — sixty-four distinct shadings — hold every tone between the extremes to a float of two, and seven in ten cannot do better than four. Five hundred and seventy-six can put a plain weave at the midtone, and not one of those can keep twos beside it: taking a part out of a plain weave, or adding one, always leaves a float of three.
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 four named weaves are corners of a family
Plain, warp rib, weft rib and hopsack are one construction with two knobs, and the trade turns both together or neither. Group the ends by two and the picks by three and the result is an ordinary cloth with a name, no literature and a fundamental domain of twelve intersections on two shafts — and the family's three quantities all have closed forms: two shafts everywhere, a unit of exactly 2ab, and a longest float of the larger grouping.
A lifting plan says nothing without a threading
The second of the notations for something larger than a weave is a pair, not a notation: a threading and a lifting plan, and neither alone expresses anything. The pair's image is exactly the drafts with no more distinct columns than there are shafts — 98 at two shafts, 5,282 at three, all 22,874 at four — and it is not nested with the profile draft's in either direction. The profile reaches 192 drafts that need all four shafts, and misses 64 of the 98 a two-shaft loom weaves.
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.
A snarl comes in one size
The radius a twisted thread coils to is twice its bending rigidity over its torque. Write the torque out and the bending rigidity cancels completely, leaving a number that depends on the twist and on the ratio of two stiffnesses — and on nothing else about the yarn at all.
A curtain is gathered so that it is seen edge-on
A curtain is hung with more cloth than window, and the surplus is not decoration. Laid in folds, a length of cloth spans its own length times the cosine of its flank angle, so the fullness is the secant of that angle exactly — and a line of sight through the window meets the cloth at it. A voile's view halves at a fullness of 1.08, its flanks shut completely at 1.48, and at the two and a half times a curtain is actually hung at, every flank passes nothing and the whole of what comes through is the crests.
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.
The folding rule is not a torque balance
Fold a two-fold yarn at about two thirds of its singles twist. This collection has carried that as a bracket copied from the trade and derived nowhere. It is now derivable, the derivation gives a fifth rather than two thirds, and reaching two thirds would need a fibre stiffer in torsion than in bending.
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.
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.
Most satins still have a diagonal
A satin is chosen so that no diagonal forms, and its move is ranked by how far apart its interlacings sit. But the interlacings of a regular satin lie on a lattice, every lattice has a shortest step, and the marks line up along it. Only when two shortest steps tie is there no row to follow — and between five and forty ends the best move manages that at twelve of the thirty-five orders.
The folding rule is a surface angle
Fold at two thirds for two singles, six tenths for three, a half for four. Those are one over the square root of the fold count, they are what makes a fold's surface twist angle equal its singles', and all three of the trade's brackets contain the number exactly.
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.
A cloth slips at its least-interlaced thread
A weave's firmness is quoted as one number, the interlacings per crossing averaged over the whole repeat. A cloth does not fail on average. A thread pulled through a seam or out of a cut edge is held by its own crossings, the grip is exponential in them, and the thread with fewest goes first. In every four-by-four draft but plain weave some thread interlaces twice a repeat — the fewest possible — whatever the average says, and a satin stripe on a plain ground averages 0.87 while its satin ends grip at a seventh of the average thread.
An unbroken line is not a clean one
A line of colour has two boundaries and neither is straight, in any weave there is. The thread at the edge must go under somewhere, and where it does the edge retreats to its neighbour — so the boundary steps, and by exactly one thread less than the narrowest unbroken line the weave draws. Over 22,874 drafts there are three widths and three swings and no draft anywhere else, and widening the line past its narrowest unbroken width leaves the edge precisely where it was.
The census counted two systems and a surface has one
Two drafts of twenty-two thousand touch at points, and the two are the plain weave. That is a count of the crown line both systems carry, and a bearing curve sees one: a plate meets whichever crown stands higher and meets nothing else until it has sunk past the step. Counted the way a surface is read, 494 drafts touch at points rather than two — and which 494 depends on a crimp division already called a convention rather than a measurement.
What leaving the plane costs
Every number the flat loop model produced, beside the same number with the climb in it. Four of the five fall, none moves by four per cent, and the estimate that priced the third dimension beforehand had the sign the wrong way round for a reason worth naming.
A selvedge holds only where its edge end changes face
A shuttle weft goes out on one pick and back on the next, and between them it turns round the end at the edge. The turn is caught only if that end is on the other face on the second pick; otherwise the loop has nothing to wrap and slides off. Plain weave catches every turn at every width. A 2/2 twill catches them at half its widths, and only if the first pick is thrown from the right side. A 3/1 twill, a hopsack and every satin catch them nowhere, and of the 22,874 four-by-four drafts, 9,636 cannot hold a selvedge at any width at all.
The finest colour-and-weave effects need the rarest loom
A houndstooth, a shepherd's check and a gun club check are thrown by the cheapest shuttle loom there is. A hairline, an end-and-end and a log cabin are thrown by none — a colour on every other pick is thrown from the same side every time, so its shuttles pile up at the far end of the loom and never come back. The dividing line is the parity of the bands and nothing else, which is why it survives the fact that no two sources agree about how wide a shepherd's check is.
A jacquard's harness has a depth after all
A jacquard was said to escape the shaft loom's depth entirely, because every mail hangs at the same distance from the fell. Every mail does, if the comber board has one row of holes — and it cannot. At sixty ends a centimetre the ends are a sixth of a millimetre apart and a cord with a mail on it wants most of one, so the holes are ruled in six rows thirty millimetres deep. The escape is real and it is a factor of eight rather than a release, and it closes as the cloth is set finer.
Four drafts in five have no path along their own crowns
A 2/2 twill and a 2/2 hopsack carry exactly the same length of bearing crown line, which the surface census noted and could not explain. One of them is a ridge running diagonally across the cloth without a break; the other is a field of square islands with no path between them. Counted over the whole catalogue, 4,016 of 22,874 drafts have a crown path that reaches the far side, 1,616 have one in both directions, and 130 have crowns with no neighbour at all.
The force that holds a knit open
Resolving a knitted loop's contact force out of the fabric's plane leaves a fifth of it pointing through the thickness. That fifth is 7.8 millinewtons a stitch, fifteen kilopascals over the area a stitch occupies, and it is the whole reason a jersey has a thickness rather than a plan.
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.
A cotton's own water is a twentieth of what a cloth holds
A wet cloth keeps water in three places and only one of them is the fibre. A sheeting saturated holds 113 per cent of its own dry weight: 7.5 per cent of that inside the cotton as regain, 39 per cent in the channels between the fibres of its yarns, and 54 per cent in the holes four threads bound. The same construction in polyester, whose regain is a fortieth of cotton's, holds 105 per cent — an eight-point difference from a fortyfold one, because absorbency is a geometry with a fibre in it rather than a fibre with a geometry round it.
No cloth derives into more than three others
Every weaving manual opens by saying the three basic weaves generate the rest. This collection counted the reach and found nine of 426, and left the nine as a count. It is not a count: every derivation the manuals name is a relabelling of the grid or a complementation of it, both invertible, so they generate a group — and that group cuts the 426 cloths into 157 closed pieces of which the largest holds four. The claim is not merely wrong about how much derivation reaches; derivation cannot reach more than four cloths from anywhere, by any sequence of operations, however long.
An even shading cannot keep its surface level
Sixty-four six-end shadings hold every middle tone to a float of two, and the question left over was whether any of them keeps a tone ramp's surface level the way a twill read in order does. None does, and all of them sink by exactly the same depth — 43.3 micrometres on a sheeting, a sixth of the cloth. The reason is a counting argument a recording engineer would recognise: a limit on how long a thread may float is a limit on run length, and a run-length limit forces a floor on how often the thread changes face. A level ramp needs every tone at the extremes' rate, which needs a float of half the repeat at the midtone and more beside it — exactly the floats the twill in order has.
A tuck is the one stitch that links twice
Knitting has three stitches and only one of them makes a new link. A knit stitch links a loop to the loop below; a miss links nothing; and a tuck holds two loops in one head — which is why a tuck stops a run and why the three cannot be described by one number.
A float limit leaves one row-free satin
A satin is chosen so that no diagonal forms, and an earlier essay found that most of them fail: the interlacings lie on a lattice, every lattice has a shortest step, and the marks line up along it unless two steps tie — which happens at twelve of the thirty-five orders from five to forty. The other constraint was named and not applied. An n-end satin floats over n − 1, so a yarn that will not carry a float longer than eight admits four orders in all, and exactly one of them is row-free: the five-end satin, which is the one everybody already weaves.
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.
A net of three directions beats a voile one way at a time
A tulle's threads run three ways at sixty degrees and a voile's run two ways at ninety, so a net hung over a voile could show one family of fringes, three, or a lattice of them. It shows two, at right angles, and they are nothing alike. Along the voile threads that lie parallel to one of the net's, the net beats exactly as a one-directional net does: six-millimetre fringes from three metres. Across them no set of the net lies anywhere near, and the only slow beat comes from a line of points two sets make together at √3 over the net's pitch — fringes four times wider and a fifteenth as strong, with a null at 8.8 metres where the strong family has none.
A circular machine leans its courses whatever the yarn
Spirality is blamed on the yarn, and the yarn is most of it. The rest is the machine's. A circular knitting machine's needles make wales that run straight along the tube, and its feeders lay one course each per turn, so every course climbs its feeder count in every round: on a 96-feeder machine, 48 millimetres round 162 centimetres of tube, an angle of 1.7 degrees. The helix has no machine size in it, its hand is set by the way the cylinder turns, and it survives every remedy aimed at the yarn — a steamed yarn, a plied one, S and Z on alternate feeders, and a rib.
An irregular satin scatters where a regular one lines up
A regular satin's marks lie on a lattice, so its closest pairs all run along one vector and make a row. An irregular satin has no lattice at all, so its closest pairs may point several ways at once — and at seven and nine ends, where every regular satin at the best spread has a row, an irregular one reaches the same spread with its closest pairs scattered over four directions and no more than a third in any one. At eight and eleven ends there is no such satin: the best spread is reached by regular satins alone, and irregularity has nothing to offer.
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 figured warp needs a beam for every share of its figure
Figure and ground take up warp at different rates, so a figured cloth on one beam is bounded in how long its figure may run, and a second beam is the obvious escape. It escapes only for ends that live wholly in one region. An end that crosses the figure for part of the repeat consumes warp at its own rate, and two ends can share a beam only if they spend the same share of the repeat in the figure and never drift a slack apart inside it. So a round figure twelve blocks across needs four beams, ninety-six blocks across needs twenty-nine, and any crimp difference at all — a third of a per cent will do — costs every one of them over a piece.
A colour-and-weave look costs its cheaper order
The finest colour-and-weave effects need the rarest loom because a weft order is thrown pick by pick and a warp order is laid out once, so an effect's price was said to be its weft. That is true of a construction and false of a cloth. The same cloth can be woven lying across the loom, with its warp order thrown as weft and its weft order laid in the warp, and then it costs the other order. Over every two-colour look twelve small weaves make with orders up to six threads — 4,036 of them — 55 per cent need a loom picking at will as drawn and 31 per cent need one either way round. The looks turning rescues are the ones fine in one direction only, and not one of the trade's named effects is among them.
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.
A tuck decides whether a third of two-bed fabrics lean
A jersey leans because every loop is on one bed and a rib does not because its loops are mirrored across two, and the count that says so treated a tuck as nothing. A tuck is a loop of the same lively yarn wrapped round a needle of one bed, and nobody here has measured how much of a knit loop's lean it carries. It matters. Of the 1,135 two-bed fabrics a two-needle, two-course frame can make, 135 are balanced whatever a tuck carries and 612 lean whatever it carries — and 388, a third, are balanced under one answer and lean under the other. A half-cardigan leans a third of a jersey if a tuck carries nothing and not at all if it carries a full loop's torque, which makes it the instrument that would settle the question.
A satin's row belongs to its sett
Point paper draws an end and a pick as equal squares, and every result about which satins have a row was taken there. A cloth is not square: it is set at so many ends and so many picks a centimetre, and in cloth the ties that made twelve satin orders row-free are ties between steps of different shape, which break at the first per cent of unequal sett. The reverse happens too. An eight-end satin, rowed on paper, has no row at exactly 1.291 ends per pick; an eleven-end at 1.265 and 1.528. And the only scatter that survives a range of setts is an irregular satin whose closest steps are mirror images — which nine ends has from the first per cent and ten only by 1.3.
A turned block is a moved origin
An eight-end satin figured on a 2/2 twill fails on 55,536 profiles at a block eight picks by two ends and on none at two by eight, and that was read as a property of the block's shape. Sweep the relative origin as well and the two shapes trade places: at every one of the sixteen origins exactly one of them fails, and over the sixteen they fail equally often. A shape asymmetry that no origin removes exists, and it needs a satin whose move squared is not one.
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.
A cloth's derivation class is its census of small patches
The manuals' derivations cut the 426 four-by-four cloths into 157 orbits, and an orbit is found by searching a group of 256 operations. The question left was whether a short list of numbers read off a draft could do the same job. The familiar ones cannot. Marks, interlacings, layers, plane group, float lengths, crossings per thread and distinct ends and picks are all invariant, and all seven together tell 120 of the orbits apart. A census of the two-by-two patches a draft contains tells 127 apart. A census of its three-by-three patches tells all 157 apart — a complete invariant of derivation, computed by counting windows rather than by searching operations.
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.
What a closed thread cannot choose
A thread whose ends are held has a quantity it cannot change without breaking: the total number of times its material winds about its own axis, plus the number of times that axis winds about itself. The two can trade, and everything a twisted yarn does when it is let go is that trade happening.
The section that changes both stiffnesses
A thread's two rigidities are in the ratio 2G/E, and that is a fact about a circular section: a circle's polar second moment is exactly twice its flexural one. A yarn in cloth is not circular, so a yarn in cloth has three constants rather than two — and the ratio a whole ladder rests on is a lower bound.