The thread: Measured, not claimed
The bias is a mechanism
Cloth cut at forty-five degrees stretches by a third and springs back, while the threads in it stretch by nothing at all. Almost every explanation given for this is wrong, and the right one is not about elasticity.
The crimp is the price of being cloth
A woven reinforcement is bought for stiffness along its fibres, and the usual explanation of what it gives up — fibre content, lost to the crimp — has the sign wrong. At a given thickness a woven fabric holds slightly more fibre than two flat plies of the same tows. What the crimp costs is stiffness, and the float length is the knob.
Thread count is not quality
It counts threads. It says nothing about how much of the cloth they cover, it can be inflated by counting plies, and it ranks fabrics in nearly the wrong order. The quantity it is mistaken for is cover factor, and that one is computable.
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.
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.
Colour and weave
Thread the same weave with a different order of coloured ends and a pattern appears that is nowhere in the draft. Houndstooth is an ordinary two-and-two twill, and nothing about its interlacement is unusual at all.
Crimp, and why cloth narrows when it is pulled
A thread in cloth is longer than the cloth it crosses. Pull the fabric one way and that extra length is taken out of one direction and put into the other, so the cloth gets narrower without a single fibre stretching.
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 float decides
How far a thread runs on the face before it goes under is one number, and it sits behind lustre, drape, snagging, abrasion, tear strength and how densely the cloth can be set. Almost nothing else in the subject has that reach.
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.
The locking angle
The bias runs out at an angle that yarn diameter and thread spacing decide between them. It is the number behind whether a cloth will go round a curve, and it has nothing to do with how strong the fabric is.
A tow is not a yarn
Every geometric model on this site assumes a thread with a diameter. A reinforcement tow has a width and a thickness instead, and the two are eight to one — which moves the jammed sett, the crimp, the cover and the cloth's thickness at once, in four different directions, from one change.
How close can threads be set
There is a maximum. Push more threads into a cloth than the geometry allows and they simply will not go, and the limit depends on the weave as much as on the yarn.
The diagonal is not a thread
A twill's diagonal is the most looked-at feature in weaving and the most misdescribed. No thread in the cloth runs diagonally. What runs diagonally is a pattern of which thread is on top, which is a different sort of object.
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.
Why clothes need darts
A flat cloth goes round a cylinder for nothing and cannot go round a sphere at all without shearing. The amount of shear is decided by the curvature, and when it exceeds what the threads allow, something has to be cut out.
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.
Bending stiffness and the drape coefficient
Two standard measurements try to say how a fabric hangs. One measures a length and cubes it; the other measures an area and, on the geometry, turns out to be answering a different question from the one it is asked.
Interlacings and firmness
Every time a thread changes face it has to bend, and a bend takes room. That one sentence decides how densely a cloth can be set, how firm it feels, and why the two run in opposite directions.
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 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.
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.
Nonwovens, and what holds them together instead
A web of fibres laid down at random has no repeat, so the exact test for whether a fabric holds together has nothing to work on. What replaces it is a threshold, and the threshold is sharp.
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.
Rib and interlock
A rib fabric is a plain knit folded like a concertina, and its enormous widthwise stretch is the fold opening out. Nothing in it is elastic, and the extension available is a cosine.
Shear locking in a composite preform
Laying a woven reinforcement over a mould is the bias mechanism doing useful work, and it stops dead at the angle where the threads jam. Where the cloth wrinkles is a geometric prediction with a radius attached.
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.
Twill direction, and how it is named
The two twills are mirror images, and every quantity the matrix can produce is identical for both. What separates them is the yarn, which has a handedness of its own — and the angle, which is forty-five degrees only in a square-set cloth.
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.
Balance, and what an unbalanced cloth does
How much of the surface each thread system takes is the mean of the weave matrix, and it is one of the very few quantities in this subject that can be read straight off. Almost nothing that follows from it can.
A drape coefficient is one number for a directional thing
A fabric bends more easily one way than the other — a factor of two is ordinary. The drape test reports a single percentage, and the quantity that carries the directionality is the fold count, which the coefficient is almost blind to.
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.
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.
Why a knit recovers and a woven does not
Four fabrics get longer without a single yarn stretching, and the four mechanisms are worth wildly different amounts. Three of them are recoverable and one is very nearly not, and which is which follows from where the extension came from.
A cloth cannot carry a push
The net model that runs this site's mechanics has no bending stiffness at all, so it buckles under any compression whatever, into wrinkles of any wavelength whatever. What picks the wavelength is the competition the net leaves out — and the answer is a quarter power, which is why a wrinkle is so hard to change.
How a tuft is held
A V-fastened tuft and a W-fastened tuft are both attached, and the integrity criterion returns the same verdict for both. One of them is specified for hotel corridors and the other sheds. What separates them is not a topological property at all — it is an angle, and it needs a coefficient somebody has to measure.
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.
The weave decides the sett, and two models disagree about it
Ashenhurst's rule and Peirce's geometry both answer how densely a cloth can be set, and for a plain weave they are fifteen per cent apart. Only one of them reaches the other weaves at all, and it is the cruder one.
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.
An inflated cylinder wants an unbalanced cloth
Balance is a virtue in almost every other cloth. Under pressure it is a defect with a size — a closed cylinder carries exactly twice the stress around its circumference as along its axis, so a balanced fabric reaches its limit in one direction with a quarter of its fibre doing nothing at all.
Corduroy is a cut float
An extra weft floats over some ends, a knife runs along the cloth, and each half of the float stands up. So the pile height is exactly half the float's length — which makes corduroy the one pile fabric whose surface is decided entirely by a quantity this site has been counting since its first essay.
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.
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 nodes a drape test throws away
A drape test lays a circular specimen over a pedestal, photographs the shadow and reports one number. The specimen also falls into a definite number of folds, which is a buckling mode set by the fabric's own bending length — and the standard method observes it, does not record it, and reports the number it is least sensitive to.
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.
Where the cover factor comes from
A cotton cover factor is threads per inch over the root of the count, and the scale says twenty-eight means a covered surface. The twenty-eight is not a convention: it is the reciprocal of Peirce's yarn diameter, and the trade's practical ceilings of fourteen and twenty-two fall straight out of it.
A cloth extends by moving its crimp
Everybody says the extension available along the warp is the warp's own crimp. On six of eight ordinary cloths it is not — a close sheeting has 14.61 per cent of warp crimp and reaches 4.03 per cent, because the limit lives in the weft.
A membrane is cut smaller than it is
A tensioned fabric roof is cut to a pattern smaller than the shape it will take, because stressing it makes it grow. At a fixed cloth thickness a prestress can only interchange crimp — one direction grows and the other shrinks — so everything that makes both directions grow is the crossings flattening, which is the one quantity here this site cannot compute.
What crimp interchange actually conserves
Pull a cloth lengthways and it narrows, because the crimp moves from one system to the other. Inextensibility says that much and no more — it is one equation short of an answer, and the second equation everybody uses is an assumption with a name.
Floats and abrasion
A satin is said to wear badly. It does not wear quickly — its flat face spreads the rubbing over more thread than a plain weave's crowns do. What it does is fail badly, and those are different quantities moving in opposite directions.
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.
Terry needs two beams
A towel's pile is not woven longer. It is fed longer — from a second warp beam let off several times faster than the first — so the loop height follows from a ratio and a pick spacing, and the float length that decides a corduroy does not appear in it anywhere.
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.
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.
Does a loose weave tear better
The trade says a twill tears stronger than a plain weave of the same yarn, because fewer interlacings let the threads group. The geometry of that grouping has no weave in it at all — and where the geometry does speak, it predicts the opposite.
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.
Twist is one angle
Every model on this site treats a yarn as a cylinder with a diameter. It is a bundle of loose fibres, and what makes it behave like a cylinder is twist — which is a helix, so the whole subject is one angle, and the trade's twist factor turns out to be the only combination of count and turns that decides anything.
A cloth's Poisson ratio is not a material's
The ratio of a cloth's contraction to its extension has a name everywhere else in mechanics, and it breaks every rule the name comes with — above one half on all eight cloths measured, doubling across a four per cent span, and not reciprocal between the two directions.
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.
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.
Twist and the twill line
The oldest rule of thumb in weaving says to weave a Z twill from S-twist warp for a bold line and from Z-twist warp for a subdued one. Both halves of it are geometry: the twill's angle comes from the two setts, the fibres' angle comes from the twist factor, and the rule is their difference.
A thread is gripped where it turns
The arithmetic this site has used for fraying, seam slippage and tuft anchorage counts every crossing a thread makes as a grip and adds them up. A thread lying flat on the surface of a satin presses on nothing at all, and a thread that is gripped is gripped by a friction that compounds along its length rather than adding. Both corrections were recorded as missing and both are here.
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 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.
What holds a thread in a seam
A seam fails in two quite different ways, and the one the trade worries about is not the stitches breaking. It is the cloth's own threads sliding out of the weave beside the seam — and what resists that is friction at the crossings, accumulating multiplicatively, so a satin gives a seam a thousandth of the grip a plain weave gives it.
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.
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.
The criterion cannot see friction
This site's central check is exact, decidable in linear time, and structurally incapable of distinguishing a carpet from a fabric that sheds. That is not a defect to be repaired — a separation exists or it does not, and there is no margin in it — and the fancy weaves are precisely the constructions that live in the gap.
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.
Two coefficients, not one
Every friction on this site is a single number, and the account of why a cloth relaxes better when it is agitated depends entirely on there being two. Separating static from kinetic changes what a resting state is: a cloth at rest is held by one coefficient and a cloth being shaken by the other, and the band it can be left in narrows — by less than the ratio, because a cloth's restoring force is not linear in its extension.
A cloth does not mind a hole
A hole in a film costs it two thirds of its strength whatever the hole's size, because a continuum concentrates stress at an edge. A cloth's threads carry their own load and hand almost nothing to their neighbours, so a hole costs exactly the threads it removes — a loss that is linear in the hole, independent of the sett, and zero for a slit along the load.
A honeycomb gets its cells in the wash
The obvious mechanism is take-up on the loom, and the arithmetic says it is wrong: every end of a diamond passes through the long floats and the tight ones alike. What is left is finishing, and a cell is a region that wanted to shrink less than the cloth around 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.
The reed is not the sett
A reed holds the warp at a pitch, and the cloth that leaves it is narrower — by exactly the weft's crimp, with nothing fitted and nothing approximated. On a close balanced sheeting that is 12.75 per cent, on an open scrim 1.87, and a weaver who allowed one figure for both would be wrong by a factor of nearly seven.
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 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.
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 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.
A hole with nothing crossing
A real leno holds its holes open by crossing one thread over another, which is a topological arrangement and cannot come undone. A mock leno makes the same holes by grouping threads that nothing separates, and everything about it is friction.
How high a cloth wicks
A woven cloth has two capillary systems and they are a factor of twenty to a hundred apart. The one every diagram draws — the hole between four threads — lifts 119 mm. The one nobody draws, inside the yarn, lifts 6.37 m.
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 stops a knit extending
A knitted loop's bending energy does not change as the fabric extends — exactly, over the whole range its geometry admits. Something resists, and it is not stiffness. It is friction at the interlocks, which is dissipative rather than elastic, and that single fact accounts for why a knit does not spring back, why a softener changes its dimensions and why the constants its size is quoted with contain no yarn property at all.
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 cord is a stripe with no colour in it
Warp rib, weft rib and hopsack are plain weave with its threads doubled, in the warp, the weft, or both. Six of the nine measures this site takes off a matrix cannot tell a 2/2 hopsack from a 2/2 twill, and the three that can are not the ones a weaver quotes.
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.
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 cloth relaxes until its threads stop pushing
The finishing field treats the relaxed state as a place a cloth arrives at. With an energy along its own locus and a friction at its crossings it is not a place but a band — and which point of the band a piece of cloth stops at depends on which side it came from, which is why washing it twice gives two answers.
A flattened thread is a record of a force
A yarn in cloth is not round, and this site has modelled the flattening for as long as this collection has run with the amount of it left as a number somebody chose. Give the section a stiffness and ask what the cloth prefers, and the answer is a circle — at every stiffness, for every balanced cloth in the table. Flattening does not happen by itself; it happens because something pressed.
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.
Peirce and Kemp are one cloth at two moments
This site has run two thread sections side by side since the setting field was built — a circle and a flattened racetrack — and said honestly that they disagree and that the disagreement is the point. They are not rival descriptions of the same fabric. They are descriptions of the same fabric before and after something pressed it, and the difference between them is a pressure that can now be named.
The criterion gets a force
This site's integrity criterion decides exactly whether a draft describes one cloth, and has one standing limitation: it says a tuft bound under one pick and a tuft bound under three are both attached, and it is right, and one of those is a carpet while the other sheds. What separates them needs a normal force in a fabric that is not under tension — the number the rung that computed it recorded as unavailable, and the one a thickness gauge now supplies.
The stiffness with no lower bound
A yarn's bending rigidity lies between two derivable ends and the ratio is the fibre count — wide, but closed. Its resistance to being squashed out of round has an upper bound of the same kind and a lower bound of exactly nothing, because fibres free to slide resist a change of shape with nothing at all. That is why nobody could ever compute the aspect ratio of a flattened thread.
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.
A calender spends the compression for good
Calendering was described on this site as moving a cloth from one thread-section model to another, which was right and had no number in it because the amount of the move was a free parameter. It is a pressure now — and the same nip setting turns out to give two cloths quite different treatments, because the force at a crossing is the pressure times the area a crossing owns.
How far a cut edge frays
A seam allowance, a fray width and a tuft's bound length are the same number wearing three hats, and the earlier estimate of it was four times too long. Correcting it moves the whole table across the boundary an ordinary allowance sits on — from four cloths holding and four slipping, to all eight holding — and turns a specification argument into a different one.
The cloth that was called impossible
This site's own table of fabrics carries a note saying a real 44-end poplin has no solution in its geometry at all, and that the poplin row was therefore set at 32 ends. The cloth solves. What had no solution was the search — a bisection that treated a state it could not reach as evidence of having gone too far, and walked away from the answer every time.
The relaxed cloth's contact force
How hard two threads press on each other in a cloth that is not being pulled is the number this site's own integrity criterion has needed since its first essays, and the route to it was an elastica nobody had. A thickness gauge supplies it instead — because a cloth's thickness is a record of how flat its threads are, and how flat they are is a record of how hard they are pressed.
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.
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.
The hairs are what touch
The pressure inside a twisted yarn falls to exactly zero at its surface, so the outermost fibres are held by nothing and some of them stand off. A yarn therefore has two diameters — the one its mass gives and the one a neighbour meets — and only the first is in the arithmetic.
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 figure shows by its shine, not its step
A damask is one cloth in one colour and its pattern is plainly visible. This collection attributed that to the step in its surface — fifty micrometres of relief, computed from the interlacing rates. The step is real and returns almost no light. What makes the figure visible is that its crowns run at right angles to the ground's, so the two trade places when the cloth is turned.
A jersey has two surfaces
The face of a plain knit shows the legs of its loops, which run along the wale; the back shows the heads and feet, which run across it. So the two faces carry their crowns at right angles — the same situation as a damask's figure and its ground, in a fabric with no warp, no weft and no float.
How much of a cloth is touching
Press a fabric against a flat plate with the weight of a hand and ask what fraction of it is actually in contact. The bearing curve answers, and the answer is about four per cent — of which the great majority is not the cloth's surface at all, but the hairs standing off it, which nothing in this arithmetic can see.
A cloth is more opaque than it is closed
Opacity is not cover — this collection established that already and left the discrepancy attributed to the thickness of the threads. Part of it is not in the threads at all. A hair standing in a hole blocks light exactly as well as a thread does and costs nothing in air.
A knit gives up its fibres more easily
Knitwear pills and shirting does not, and the fibres are often the same fibres. The difference is a count of yarn per unit area and a pressure between threads, and both of them push a knit over a threshold that a woven cloth of the same yarn cannot reach.
A thickness gauge reads the draft
A presser foot does not stop at the top of a cloth. It sinks until the area it is touching can carry the load, and how far that is depends on the shape of the bearing curve near the top — which is a property of the weave. So there is a weave term inside a measurement nobody thinks of as a weave measurement, and it is worth about one per cent.
A crepe is a yarn that will not lie still
A crepe cloth's pebbled surface is the yarn's own torque acting on a cloth that cannot resist it. The instability that makes a slack yarn snarl says how large the pebbles should be, and the answer is a millimetre — which is what a crepe looks like.
A yarn's surface is a distribution
This collection has computed where a cloth stops, and every one of those numbers is a statement about yarn. What a finger, a plate, a droplet or a ray of light actually meets first is a population of fibre ends standing off the yarn — and it is a population, with a count and a length, rather than a layer with a thickness.
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 shadow stripe is two twists
A cloth striped in one colour, where the stripe is visible only because alternate bands are spun the other way round. The pattern is carried entirely by which way the fibres lie on the yarn's surface, and it disappears when the light moves.
A yarn has a diameter for every instrument
Conservation of volume gives a yarn one diameter and every other route gives a different one. The disagreement is not experimental scatter: a yarn's outside is a coverage that falls away exponentially, and each instrument stops at whatever contour of it will trigger the instrument.
A tone ramp is a valley, and the satin digs it
A shading's tone is exact and its lustre is measured; its thickness is neither, and nobody specifies it. A firmer weave is pressed harder at every crossing and finishes thinner, so an eight-end shading sinks eighty-four micrometres between its ends and its midtone — about a third of the cloth's whole thickness, on every cloth tried. Build the same chain on a twill instead of a satin and the sag is exactly nothing.
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.
A sewing thread is a different animal
It is folded, balanced, lubricated and finished, and every one of those is an answer to a requirement no weaving yarn has. The lubricant is the interesting one: it makes the thread sewable by lowering the friction that was holding its own fibres together.
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 cloth loses its strength before its mass
Rub a fabric and it sheds material from all over its surface, but it sheds it from every thread at the same place — and a thread breaks at its thinnest place. So the strength gone is always several times the mass gone, the ratio is computable from the bearing curve, and it is worst for the weave whose crowns are points.
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.
A light touch never reaches the crowns
This collection found that a plain weave touches at points and every other cloth touches along lines, and that the difference is an exponent rather than a factor. It is a real result about a real surface, and at the pressures a fabric is actually touched at, nothing ever reaches that surface.
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.
What grips the end of a fibre
A twisted yarn squeezes itself, and the squeeze holds the fibre ends in. Write the slip and the break out side by side and the fibre's own strength cancels — and so does the load on the yarn — leaving a gripped length that depends on fineness, friction and the twist and on nothing else.
The other half of the twist curve
This collection computed the falling half of the strength–twist curve exactly and declined the rising half as being out of reach. It is not out of reach. With the grip derived rather than assumed, the optimum comes out at a twist factor — and the same twist factor at every count, which is why the trade quotes twist factors at all.
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 seam stands proud and wears first
A seam allowance is three plies where the garment is one, so it stands three quarters of a millimetre above a cloth whose own surface has a few micrometres of contact in it. Anything flat rubbed across the garment touches the seam and nothing else — all of the wear on two or three per cent of the area, until a whole thickness of fabric has been crushed.
The hairs decide the sign of the wetting
Raising a cloth is not a wetting treatment and it is not a repellency treatment. It is an amplifier, and which of the two it turns out to be was settled in the dyehouse before the raising machine was switched on — by whether the fibre's own contact angle was above or below ninety degrees.
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.
Two layers need two beams
A layer weaving a metre of cloth eats one plus its crimp metres of warp, and a beam delivers one rate. A plain face over a five-end satin back differs by twelve percentage points of crimp, which is twelve metres of warp over a hundred-metre piece and one pick spacing of slack after four millimetres of weaving. The difference has nowhere to go and does not settle — so the only double cloth that can share a beam is two layers of the same weave at the same sett.
The singles inside a ply are not the singles
Folding leaves each single with a fraction of its own twist, which should ruin its grip on its own fibres. It does not, because the ply's helix presses on the singles exactly as a single's helix presses on its fibres — and across the whole practical range the two very nearly cancel.
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.
Abrasion takes the hairs first
An abrasion test reports milligrams lost against cycles, and the first milligrams off any fabric are not fabric. On a bare cloth that stage is over in a few thousand cycles. On a napped one it is not over by the end of the test, so a Martindale on a fleece never measures the fleece.
A rib climbs a gap
A jersey's yarn crosses one diameter between interlacings because that is what a crossing of two threads is. A rib's crosses the whole distance between the two beds. Nothing else in the model changes, and that one length is the whole mechanical difference between the fabrics.
What a thickness gauge reads on a knit
The structure says two yarn diameters and the gauge says more, and the gap is not an error in either. A gauge lands on the highest crowns, through a canopy of protruding fibre, under a load that has already begun to compress both — and it does that on a surface that is nothing but crowns.
A 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.
Twist decides where in the bracket
A yarn's bending rigidity can only be bracketed, and the bracket is three hundred wide. What decides where a yarn sits in it is whether its fibres can slide — and for a thread bent by its own crimp in a cloth, the answer is not close.
A calender buys the width
Press a cloth and its lustre multiplies by twenty-four. None of that comes from the length of its crowns, which moves by six per cent; all of it comes from their width, because a flattened section has a plane on top of it and a plane has one normal rather than a fan of them. The arithmetic refuses to put any of the gain in the other factor.
A pill is anchored, not made
Every account of pilling starts with how a ball of fibre forms and stops there, which explains why fabrics pill and not why some of them stay pilled. A pill is not a thing that happens; it is a standing population, and the number on a fabric at any moment is a generation rate times a lifetime.
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.
Every fabric's thread lies in a plane
A woven thread's crimp wave lies in a plane at right angles to the cloth. A knitted loop lies in a plane twelve degrees off it. Both halves of this collection turn out to be one picture with one angle in it, and the angle decides how much of a fabric's contact force acts through its thickness.
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.
The diameter was quoted at one twist
Every diameter in this collection came from a packing factor of 0.6, and that number was got by inverting a rule published for cotton yarns at one particular twist. Here is what moves if it is wrong by the width of the range real yarns occupy — and which single quantity does not move at all.
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.
The strong fibre is the one that pills
A pill survives while any one of its anchors holds, which is a maximum over a small sample rather than an average — and a maximum behaves nothing like an average. A fifth of a strong fibre in a blend buys four fifths of the pure strong fibre's pill life while leaving the whole of the weak fibre's fuzz supply in place.
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 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.
A fancy yarn has its crimp in the wrong thread
A bouclé is made by feeding an effect thread eighty per cent faster than the core it wraps, so the yarn contains more thread than it is long — which is crimp by this collection's own definition. A cloth's crimp is in the thread that carries the load, so removing it is the cloth's first extension. A bouclé's surplus is in a thread that carries nothing, so pulling the yarn stretches the core at once and the loops never straighten. Thirty-nine per cent of the yarn's mass is on the load path, and the other sixty-one is decoration.
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.
The sett owns the pitch and the yarn owns the height
Set a cloth twice as close and its surface does not get smoother. The crowns come twice as often, because that is what a sett is, and they stand at very nearly the same height, because the closure condition pins the amplitude to the yarn — so a fine cloth is finer-grained rather than flatter, and the two are confused in every description of handle.
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.
A compression curve is two laws in series
A published fabric compression exponent is a fitted number with no derivation attached, and this site has already said why: the range it is fitted over straddles two regimes. One of them turns out not to be in the cloth at all.
Prickle is a buckling load
The wool trade specifies comfort against skin by the percentage of fibres coarser than thirty micrometres, and the thirty is a measured boundary with no derivation attached. It is a column formula: solve for the diameter at which a protruding fibre end stops bending away and starts standing its ground, and thirty micrometres falls out.
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.
The closest approach is not the crossing
Two wavy curves that touch at a point are not necessarily closest at that point. Whether they are depends on one thing: whether they run alongside one another or cross. That distinction decides which of this collection's two fabrics fits together and which does not.
A sheer hides whichever side is darker
A net curtain hides a room by day and shows it at night, and the cloth has nothing to do with which. What a viewer sees through a sheer is an image through its clear lines of sight against a veil of lit thread, and the only thing that decides their balance is how much brighter one side is than the other. At equal light the two views are identical for every cloth there is. And a black sheer of the same openness shows twelve times more of the room by day than a white one.
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.
Warmth is mostly the hairs
This collection established that a fabric's thermal resistance is its thickness and not its fibre, and that twice the thickness is twice the warmth. It never asked what the thickness was made of. On a raised cloth almost none of it is cloth.
A hair layer veils a highlight
An eight-end satin's shine swings by a large factor as the cloth is turned, because a straight thread's normals lie in the plane across it. Put fibre ends on it and the swing disappears — not because the hairs block the light, which changes no contrast at all, but because they return light of their own that has no direction in it.
A woven filter beats its own rating
A filter cloth's rating comes from the largest channel through it, and by geometry it stops nothing smaller. It stops a few per cent of particles ten times smaller anyway, on the fibre ends standing in its holes — and a few per cent is not filtration. It is exactly enough to start a cake, and after that the cloth is not filtering.
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.
Where a yarn is thinnest
A yarn in a fabric is pressed where it crosses and free where it does not, so its section changes along its own length. Every flattening this collection has ever quoted is a single number for a profile that runs from four fifths of a diameter to nearly four.
The spinning triangle decides the hair
A ring frame converges a flat ribbon of fibres to a round yarn, and for the length of that convergence the fibres at the ribbon's edges are held by nothing. Everything a spinner can do about hairiness is done in that triangle, and the two hairiness instruments respond to it by wildly different amounts.
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 state is a thickness too
This collection's rule is that a fabric dimension quoted without its relaxation state is not a measurement. A knitted fabric has three dimensions and only two of them obey the rule: its thickness is the same in every state, because the interlacing that sets it does not relax.
A fabric is a population of contacts
Only a fifth of a knitted fabric's yarn is inside a diameter of its neighbour. So a fabric's friction lives in a fifth of its length, and every calculation this collection makes about withdrawal, slippage and fraying has assumed it lives everywhere.
A jacquard harness needs three half-spans of height
A jacquard has no front shaft and no back one, so every end takes the same shed — as long as every cord hangs straight. Across the width they cannot: the hooks sit in a machine a few tens of centimetres wide and the comber board is as wide as the cloth, so an edge cord leans and its mail rises by the difference of two hypotenuses rather than by the hook's lift. Holding the edge shed within five per cent of the centre's takes a fall of about three times the edge cord's sideways reach, and that is a height a room has to have.
A thread between two crossings is an elastica
Every crossing force Peirce's thread path can give comes from a tension, and a cloth on a table has none. What presses its threads together there is their own unwillingness to be bent — and recovering that needs a shape nobody had, because a path assembled from an arc and a straight line has a bending moment that jumps.
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.
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 woven cloth asked the same question
A knitted fabric's two adjacent courses occupy the same space by a fifth of a diameter. A woven cloth's two systems overlap by nothing at all in an open cloth and by four and a half per cent in a dense one — and the difference is that they cross rather than run alongside.
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.
A double cloth is only softer if its yarn is set
A double cloth is sold as weight without stiffness: two light cloths in place of one heavy one. Divide the same yarn into two layers and the cloth is √2 or twice as thick, but at the free end of a yarn's stiffness bracket — where an unset yarn sits — its bending rigidity does not move at all, because it is the number of fibres across the width times the stiffness of one. Only a set yarn makes the double cloth the softer, and stitching the layers together pushes it the other way.
A figured sheer is a negative from one side
A net curtain with a pattern in it carries two patterns, one for each side, and by day they are opposites. A more open figure in a white voile is a dark figure a quarter below its ground from the street and a light one five per cent above it from the room, and after dark the two views trade places exactly. The figure vanishes from the street at one light ratio and from the room at another. And a figure can be made that the room cannot see at all while the street sees it nearly black — along one line of openness and thread tone, and never from both sides at once.
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 rib's relaxation is not its bending either
A jersey does not settle where its bending energy is least, and this collection has said so for several rungs. A rib does not either, and the model now says how far from least it would have to go: sixteen yarn diameters of bed gap before the yarn runs out, against the two or three a machine is set to.
A 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 group is one thread for cover and two for bending
The rung below leaves a limitation standing: two ends with nothing between them lie touching, and whether they behave as one thread of twice the diameter was said to depend on twist, hairiness and finish. Three of the four measures have exact answers with no friction in them and no two agree. A pair covers exactly what a double-diameter thread covers, with half its yarn, and bends at between an eighth and five eighths of its rigidity — and at equal yarn it covers forty per cent more and bends half as stiffly.
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.
The doup end pays for the crossing
A leno holds its picks because its doup end crosses under its partner and comes up on the other side — half a turn at every crossing, whatever the sett. That half turn is also a length. When 0.25 mm ends cross every millimetre, the doup end travels 22.5 per cent further than its partner: twenty-two metres of extra warp over a hundred-metre piece, and a shared beam a pick short within four and a half millimetres of cloth. The extra falls with the square of the crossing interval, which is why a leno is woven from two beams and its crossings are spaced as far apart as the cloth allows.
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.
What a loop model still cannot say
A planar rod with a natural curvature and point contacts gets a knit's forces, its modulus and its extension. It does not get torsion, it does not get the third dimension the interlacing actually needs, and it does not stop adjacent courses passing through one another — which is why its extension ceiling sits three times beyond any jersey.
A knit is warm because of where its yarn is not
Warmth is a thickness of still air, and until a knitted fabric had a thickness there was nothing to compute. It has one now, and the answer is that a rib's warmth is a machine setting: opening the beds from two diameters to five nearly trebles the fabric's resistance without changing a gram of yarn.
Five symptoms of one omission
Five things this collection recorded as unexplained, found in four different ladders over three years of work. They are the same defect seen from five directions, and the defect is one sentence written for good reasons with no visible cost at the time.
Why a slack yarn snarls
Let go of a twisted thread and it wraps on itself. That is not the yarn being badly behaved: it is a buckling, it has a criterion, and the criterion turns a nuisance into an instrument for measuring the one constant this collection cannot pin down.
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 cord's height has a ceiling and its width has none
A warp rib's cord is a wave, and its two dimensions come from two different places. The height is the weft's own crimp amplitude, and Peirce's closure condition caps it at the two yarn diameters together — 500 µm for a quarter-millimetre yarn, of which a 2/2 rib reaches 304 and a 6/6 rib 391. The pitch is the doubling times the pick spacing and has no cap at all. So a bolder rib is taller and wider, and wider faster: the aspect falls from 0.41 to 0.22.
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 bouclé is set by its loops and weighed by its count
A bouclé yarn has two diameters: the one its count implies, a third of a millimetre, and the one its loops occupy, over four millimetres. A cloth jams where its yarns touch, and a bouclé's yarns can touch at either — so its jamming sett is a bracket twelve and a half times wide, from 1.1 to 14 ends a centimetre. The weight follows the count wherever in that bracket the cloth is set, which puts the open end at a twelfth of the close end's weight with four per cent of its area covered by yarn.
How much yarn has to hang
The tension a thread needs to stay straight, converted into the only unit anybody has an intuition for: the length of the yarn's own weight. One bound says two metres and the other says six hundred, and everybody who has handled thread already knows which.
The fabric that does not fit
Every solve in this collection minimises an energy over a centre line, and a centre line has no thickness. Nobody had checked whether the fabric that comes out of it can be built. It cannot: two adjacent courses of the relaxed jersey approach to four fifths of a yarn diameter, so the yarn passes through itself, at rest, everywhere.
The twist a fabric gives back
A T-shirt that hung straight in the shop has its side seam round the front after three washes. The torque was there all along, the setting had hidden it, and the water gave it back — which makes spirality a finishing failure rather than a knitting one.
What a cuff presses with
A rib cuff holds a sleeve on a wrist, so it must be pressing. Divide its own recovery force by the radius it is wrapped round and the pressure comes out at eight tenths of a millimetre of mercury — a fiftieth of the lightest medical compression, and two orders below what the same fabric resists being squashed with.
An easer gives back the kink the crossed shed puts in
A leno loom gives its crossing ends slack at every crossed shed, and the obvious reason — the doup carrying its end sideways — is worth a hundredth of an ordinary shed. The length is one heddle further back. In the crossed shed the doup lifts the end on the far side of its partner while the end's own back heddle, a few shafts behind, holds it down, and between those two eyes the end climbs eleven centimetres in six and a half. On a loom that stretches an ordinary end 0.46 per cent, that is 5.85 per cent — nearly thirteen times as much — and no position of the back heddle takes it below four.
A net in front gives the figure to the room
The commonest double curtain is a plain net outside a patterned one, and the plain net does not merely dim the pattern. It weakens the figure from the street by a factor of three and a half and strengthens it from the room by a quarter, so a pattern four and a half times stronger outside than in becomes one the room sees slightly better. A figure designed to be invisible from indoors reappears at nearly three per cent, and the day-and-night exchange a single curtain obeyed exactly stops holding at all.
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.
The flattening nobody fitted
A yarn in cloth is not round, everybody knows it, and nothing has ever predicted how flat. This collection's own knitted geometry turns out to require a flattening of four fifths — from a solve that knew nothing about flattening, made no allowance for it, and would have been written the same way if the idea had never occurred to anybody.
A wet knit's yarn is flatter
A knitted fabric's own geometry demands a flattened yarn, and how flat depends on how much room the fabric leaves. A wet cotton yarn is a tenth thicker than a dry one at the same length, so a wet fabric leaves less room — and asks its yarn to be flatter by an amount the geometry gives.
What nothing separates comes out together
The doubled family's interlacing rate has a closed form — half the sum of the two groupings' reciprocals — so a seam's grip on its own threads is the exponential of a harmonic mean, and it saturates in each grouping separately. At a ten-millimetre allowance a 2/2 hopsack holds a thread at seventy-four times the applied tension and a 1/4 warp rib at two hundred and eighteen, on cloths whose firmness differs by an eighth.
Two lots of one cloth drift apart down a drop
A pattern repeat is a count of picks, and its length in the finished cloth is whatever that count's loom length became after the cloth gave back its crimp. Two lots woven with the warp held a tenth harder give back 1.13 points more of their length — so matched at the top, two lengths from the two lots are thirty millimetres apart at a 250 cm hem, and visibly apart a quarter of a metre down. The size of the repeat does not enter, and no cutting allowance can take it out.
A bouclé loop is an elastica, not a semicircle
A bouclé's loop was taken to be a semicircle, and the semicircle cannot be right: it meets the core at a right angle, and at eighty per cent overfeed it is wider than the gap it stands in. Solved as what it is — a length of thread leaving the core along the core at two binder points — the loop is taller than the semicircle below an overfeed of two thirds and shorter above it, overhangs at 119 per cent and closes its neck at 559. Nothing of the fibre is in its shape, and the bouclé's jamming bracket at eighty per cent is 11.7 wide rather than 12.6.
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.
A knot is nothing but contact
A knot has no fastening in it. Nothing is glued, hooked, sewn or threaded through a hole: a thread is bent round itself until the friction where it presses on itself is more than the load. That makes a knot the purest contact problem in the subject, and the place to look first for what contact does.
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.
A skew steps at every seam and a bow at none
A finished cloth's weft rows are seldom square to its selvedges, and on a patterned cloth the weft rows are the pattern rows. A skew — rows straight but slanting — puts its whole rise across every seam where two widths meet: two per cent on a 140 cm width is a 28 mm step, and matching the steps out tips the whole hanging instead, 112 mm across four widths. A bow — rows curving between level selvedges — matches perfectly at every seam and scallops each width in between. A three-millimetre match needs a skew under a quarter of a per cent, and down the seam a lot difference overtakes it.
What a sheer hides is decided by the furniture
Every result these essays have produced assumed the room and the street reflect the same three tenths of the light on them. That was never a fact about cloth. A room reflecting a twentieth is hidden two hundred and thirty-eight times better than the street it faces and one reflecting four fifths only fifteen times, with the same curtain at the same window — and the day-and-night exchange they rested on, exact for equal scenes, is out by more than half the glow for an ordinary pair of unequal ones.
A loop has a maximum force in it
A bouclé loop pressed by its neighbour is the same elastica the free one is, with one condition added — at its apex the tangent lies along the core again, so a pressed loop is two half-loops with their rise prescribed and needs no contact solve at all. Solved, the eighty-per-cent loop pushes back with nothing at its free height, twelve millinewtons at four fifths of it, and two and a half at a tenth. A curve with a maximum in it is a softening spring, and the promise this account made — a cloth's position read from its beat-up — cannot be kept, because the whole bracket sits at one pressure.
A loop is a plane curve in another plane
A knitted loop was solved as a flat curve because two curves in one plane cannot pass through one another and a loop must. Letting it out of the plane turns out to change nothing about its shape: the loop is still planar, and its plane is the fabric's turned through twelve degrees.
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.
Where a knot breaks
It breaks at the entry, before the knot has done any gripping at all. Two quantities run along a knot's path and only one of them rises; the other falls from the first millimetre; and their sum is largest where the thread arrives.
A loop bends at twice its own radius
A rod of radius r cannot be bent to a centre-line radius below r without occupying its own space. A knitted loop's tightest bend is at 2.04 yarn radii — twice the hard limit, and falling as the fabric tightens. That is a ceiling on how tight a knit can be, from contact alone.
The diameter that does need a state
A fabric dimension quoted without its relaxation state is not a measurement. The rule was applied to the two plan dimensions and then to the thickness, and it was never applied to the one dimension that is not the fabric's at all — the yarn's.
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.
A bouclé wears from the loops down
A cloth loses its strength before its mass, because a woven cloth's crowns are the very threads that carry the tension. A bouclé inverts it exactly. Its surface is its loops, its loops hang off a core that carries everything, and 61 per cent of its yarn is on no load path at all — so a rub takes three tenths of a millimetre of thread that does nothing before it reaches anything that does, and the cloth is ruined to look at while it is still as strong as it was woven.
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.
What a balanced yarn is balanced about
A specification that says a yarn is balanced does not say which of two conditions it means, and the two have different numbers, different dependences and different consequences. One of them is what folding achieves and the other is what folding is said to achieve.
A knot halves a yarn and says why
The rule is quoted for every rope and every knot and derived nowhere. It comes out at forty-six per cent for a cotton — but only if the yarn's fibres bend individually. A yarn bending as a solid section has already spent five times its breaking strain before any load arrives, so it could not be knotted at all.
Contact is not why a jersey stops
The model says a jersey can be pulled to three hundred and twenty per cent along its courses. Real ones stop at about a hundred. The recorded diagnosis was that nothing stops adjacent courses passing through one another — and giving the yarn a thickness closes seven per cent of a gap of two thirds.
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 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.
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.
Which yarns knot well
A knot's efficiency depends on three things and only one of them is the knot. The other two are the fibre's fineness and its breaking strain, and across this collection's own table those give efficiencies from six per cent to eighty-three at exactly the same bend.
What holds a crest apart
Two half periods meet at every crest of every course and, in this collection's model, run within a fiftieth of a yarn diameter of one another for more than a millimetre. In a fabric what holds them apart is the loop of the next course drawn between them — which is the loop this model does not have.
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.
A damask is the only figure that costs its beam nothing
Figure and ground consume warp at different rates, and the difference accumulates down the length of the figure. An eight-end satin figure on a plain ground puts its two regions fourteen per cent apart, which on a loom absorbing a millimetre of slack bounds the figure at eight and a half millimetres. A damask's two regions are the same satin used two ways, so complementation leaves both float lengths where they were — and their crimps are identical rather than close, to the last bit of a double.
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.
How little asymmetry a curl needs
A model with a thickness can finally be asked why stockinette rolls. It answers that it does not — its curling moment is exactly zero, by a symmetry — and the useful part is what that costs to break: five per cent of a yarn diameter buys the whole of the curl anybody has ever seen.
What a high-twist yarn costs a cloth
Twist buys strength up to a point and then loses it, and everything else it does is a cost. A crepe twist is chosen knowing that, and the trade's twist limits are a balance among five quantities that this collection can now put beside one another.
A tube of one size presses the calf harder than the ankle
A band presses a limb with its tension over the limb's radius, so it is easy to conclude that a band grips hardest where the limb is thinnest. That is true of a band held at one tension, and no knitted tube is. A tube knitted to one size is stretched further wherever the leg is thicker, and its tension rises faster than the radius does: an elastic tube pressing an ankle at twenty millimetres of mercury presses the calf at thirty-nine, and a cotton jersey tube presses its calf three and a half times as hard as its ankle. A stocking graduated the other way has to pull hardest where it presses less.
A 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 wet fibre is stiffer and a wet yarn is not locked
The intuitive reason a damp cloth stiffens is that water pulls the fibres together — a meniscus is curved, the pressure inside it is below atmospheric, and the suction presses the assembly exactly as twist does. Computed, that suction is worth the first 186 turns a metre of twist and nothing after them: six per cent of what an ordinary yarn's twist already supplies, and nowhere near enough to stop the fibres sliding. What wetting actually does is fatten the fibres, and a fibre's bending rigidity goes as the fourth power of its diameter — so a wet cotton fibre is 2.07 times as stiff with no contact in the argument at all.
A heddle eye lets the kink through
A leno's crossing end is pulled up at its doup and held down at its back standard, and the length that costs was priced as if both heddle eyes were frictionless. They grip, and gripping ought to trap the kink between them at nearly a hundred per cent strain. It does not come close. A capstan bounds a ratio of tensions, not a difference, and the spans either side are already stretched, so at a coefficient of 0.3 the span between the eyes takes 9.48 newtons against 7.08 with no friction at all — a third more, not fifteen times more — and an easer has to give back 67.9 millimetres rather than 64.4. What friction changes more is when the length is wanted.
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.
What a knit gives up when it is pressed
The woven half of this collection has had a compression curve for several rungs — a thickness that falls under load, a bearing area that grows, a pressure at every point. The knitted half had a plan and no depth. It has a relaxed thickness and an initial slope now, and the two fabrics turn out to resist for different reasons.
What a sett is when the yarn is not round
A jamming condition says how close threads can be set, and it says it in terms of a diameter. A thread in a cloth does not have one diameter: it has a wide one and a narrow one, and which of them a jam is about depends on which way the threads are jamming.
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 inflated beam wrinkles at a moment with no cloth in it
An air-filled tube can be used as a beam because the pressure pulls its cloth taut along its length, and a cloth that cannot carry a push can carry a bending moment for exactly as long as that pull outweighs it. The inside of the bend goes slack at πpr³/2 and the tube folds at πpr³ — seventy-nine and a hundred and fifty-seven newton metres for a tube a fifth of a metre across at half a bar — and there is no property of the cloth in either. The cloth decides how far the beam bends on the way, and how much pressure it can be pumped to.
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 thread has a second stiffness
Every mechanical number here came from one material constant: how hard a thread is to bend. A thread also resists being twisted, nothing here has ever used that, and the ratio between the two turns out to be the only stiffness number about a yarn that can be known at all.
What a flattened yarn does to its cover
A cover factor is a sett times a diameter, and it decides how much of a cloth is thread and how much is hole. A flattened yarn is a third wider than a round one of the same area, so a cloth of flattened yarn covers more at the same sett — and every opacity, permeability and shade computed from a round diameter is wrong in one direction.
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.
Twist is not torsion
A curve has a torsion and a material has a twist, they share a word, and only one of them is what a torsional rigidity resists. Getting them the wrong way round would have made this collection conclude that a knitted loop carries no twist, on the strength of a theorem that says nothing of the kind.
The count that decides how flat
A knitted fabric's demanded flattening is a function of its tightness factor, and a tightness factor is the square root of a count over a loop length. So a coarser yarn at the same loop is flatter — which is a prediction about a spinner's choice that nobody has framed as one.
A fault map is worth most where the grade is worst
A cutter who knows where the faults are can slide the marker or break it, and only one of those is worth anything: sliding a rigid tiling to its best offset recovers two panels of fifty-five, and letting the tiling break recovers twelve — two panels in five more cloth from the same roll. The gain has a maximum in the middle of the range, because there is nothing to recover on a clean bolt and nothing to be done on a ruined one. And the prediction the grading essay made, that a map is worth most on a bolt whose faults are bunched, is false: bunching leaves clear runs for the blind cutter too.
The one fibre whose answer is known
A table of measured constants is worth what its worst row is worth, and nobody can tell which row that is. This one has a member whose answer was known before anybody measured it, and the ordering of the other nine turns out to say something about how fibres are made.
A weight fixes the fibre and not the drape
Every plain cotton cloth of 150 grams a square metre contains the same fibre, and the count decides only how it is arranged. Across the counts that can make that weight, thickness rises threefold and cover falls in step, so their product holds still. The bending length does something stranger: at the bound a woven yarn actually sits near, it depends on neither the count nor the weight, only on the fibre.
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.
Where a torsion model stops
A second stiffness was added because an earlier ladder named its absence as the first thing to disbelieve. It settled four things, refuted one trade explanation, and left the question it was built for exactly where it found it.
Flattening is free and impossible
The fabric demands a flattening and the yarn has to supply it. At one end of this collection's oldest bracket the deformation costs exactly nothing; at the other it costs thirty-six times the whole bending energy of a stitch. The fabric flattens — which is the fourth everyday observation in one phase to land at the same end.
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.
What a contact model would have to do
This ladder has measured a fabric that does not fit and priced nothing. The repair is a different class of problem from the one this collection solves, it costs fifteen per cent of the yarn in a stitch, and it buys back four results — which is an unusually good return for a piece of modelling.
A fabric reads its own bracket four ways
A yarn's stiffness is unknown to a factor of three hundred, and no laboratory measurement has closed it. Four unrelated everyday observations — a snarl, a knot, a flattened yarn and a cloth's own thickness — all say the same thing about which end of it a yarn sits at.
Where this collection's thread model now stands
A thread has two stiffnesses and a thickness, and this collection's model has had one stiffness and no thickness. Both were added in one phase, neither reached the question it was built for, and the accounting is worth more than either.