The thread: Structure before fibre — page 2
What water does to a thread
A cotton fibre in water is a fifth wider and a hundredth longer. If it grew equally in both directions a wet cloth would simply be a bigger cloth and nothing structural would follow; because it does not, every ratio of a diameter to a spacing in a cloth moves, and they all move the same way.
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 knit is soft because it bends
Ask the same energy question of a woven cloth and a knitted one and the answers are not different by a factor — they are different in kind. A woven cloth's bending energy changes the moment it is extended. A knitted loop's does not change at all, exactly, over the whole of its extension, because its arcs are held to a radius by contact rather than by the fabric's dimensions.
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 yarn's stiffness is a bracket, not a number
Two calculations are available for how stiff a thread is in bending, and both are exact. One treats the fibres as free to slide and gives the sum of their stiffnesses; the other treats them as locked and gives a solid rod. They differ by the fibre count, which for an ordinary cotton yarn is a factor of five hundred — and no measurement of the fibre narrows it by anything at all.
A yarn's voids are not enough
A ring-spun cotton yarn is sixty per cent fibre and forty per cent air, and its fibres gain forty-four per cent of area in water. The obvious thought is that the air takes it. The arithmetic says the air cannot, and gives a floor on how far the yarn itself must grow with no measurement of a yarn in it anywhere.
A cloth gives back less than it took
Everything this collection computes about a deforming fabric is reversible, and no fabric is. The repair is not a new material property: a woven cloth has two routes to a strain, one of them costs its threads nothing and comes back in full, and where the first route runs out is a number about the sett with no fibre in it at all.
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.
The crimp ratio is not a measurement
Peirce's geometry is two thread systems, four unknowns and three equations. It cannot say how the crimp divides between warp and weft, so every cloth solved so far has been drawn at a ratio somebody chose. Give the threads a stiffness and the missing equation arrives — and for six of the eight cloths in the table it arrives with no material constant in it at all.
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.
The blow that sets the pick
The take-up gear decides how far the cloth moves between picks and says nothing about the blow that puts each pick where it goes. That blow is a force, and a virtual-work argument gives it in one line — with the length of the beat-up zone cancelling out of the answer exactly, which is the part worth having.
The most a cloth can give back
The extension a cloth can find without stretching a thread comes from crimp, so setting a cloth closer ought to give it more. It does, up to a point, and then takes it away again — and the point is a cover factor of 0.4078 at a budget of 7.2857 per cent, identical to six figures for every yarn count from five tex to a hundred.
A coated cloth fails at its holes
Spread a film over a fabric and it is supported everywhere it lies on a thread and unsupported over every hole. A woven cloth's holes are all the same size — exactly, because a repeat is a repeat — so the film has one span to bridge and the fabric has a burst pressure rather than a distribution. A nonwoven gives it a distribution, and a membrane fails at the largest hole it meets.
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.
A hole is a channel, not an opening
Every hole drawn so far has been drawn from above, and the sentence underneath every one of them says the same thing: the hole between four threads is the spacing less the diameter, and every hole is the same size. That is a picture of a cloth's shadow. A cloth has a thickness, so its hole has a length, and the narrowest place along it is not the place a person looking through can see.
A knit's change of state is not its swelling
A jersey is smaller wet-relaxed than dry-relaxed, by 5.7 per cent along its courses and 2.4 across its wales. Water is obviously involved, so the swelling is the obvious cause. Two things rule it out, and both are properties of the constants rather than measurements of a fabric.
What holds a tuft in, in newtons
The pile ladder computed a tuft's anchorage as a capstan ratio and said, correctly, that a ratio was all it could offer. A ratio multiplies a tension and there was no tension anywhere on this site. There is one now — and the answer, put beside what a carpet is actually specified at, falls short by a factor of three.
A cloth is a population, not a thread
Every number in this collection was computed from a diameter, and no yarn has one. Putting the distribution back changes some answers by nothing at all, some by a few per cent, and some by a factor — and which of the three happens is decided by one derivative.
A knit relaxes for as long as it is allowed to
Munden's three states are usually given as three sets of constants. Read as a path they are two steps, they compose exactly, and the second is not a smaller version of the first — the fabric shrinks twice as much along its courses as across its wales on the first step and rather less than half as much on the second.
A seam slips before it breaks
A sewn seam fails in one of two ways and the trade names them separately: the threads pull out of the cloth beside the stitching, or something breaks. Which one a given cloth does is decided by whether its seam allowance clears the length at which grip beats strength — and at the ordinary ten millimetres, the table divides four against four.
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 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 here as moving a cloth from one thread-section model to another, which was right and had no number in it because the amount of the move was a free parameter. It is a pressure now — and the same nip setting turns out to give two cloths quite different treatments, because the force at a crossing is the pressure times the area a crossing owns.
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.
Opacity is not cover
The covering rule counts a thread as a bar that stops everything, and a single fine cotton thread held to a window plainly does not. What a cloth transmits is the open area plus whatever comes through the threads, so the covered fraction is a lever rather than a barrier — and the lever is longest exactly where the rule says the cloth is most closed. Nothing here computes a thread's transmittance, and saying why is the useful half.
The spread was never free
This collection has taken a yarn's irregularity off a delivery note and used it as an input. It is not an input. Counting the fibres in a cross-section puts a floor under it that no spinner can beat, and the floor is one over the square root of the count.
A crushed pile is not held down by its fibres
A carpet flattened under a foot has bent its tufts through a right angle, which sounds severe and is not: the fibres in a five-millimetre pile are strained under two tenths of a per cent, an order of magnitude below the smallest strain anybody has measured a recovery at. What holds a pile down is the tufts leaning on one another.
A knit has no hole to lose
Every argument in this ladder is planar: threads at a spacing, a rectangle between four of them, a channel down it. Applied to a jersey it returns nothing at all, and the nothing is the finding. A loop's occupancy is its diameter times Munden's own stitch-density constant over its loop length, with no gauge and no fabric dimension in it — and the whole commercial range of tightness is on the wrong side of the threshold.
A random error hides and a periodic one shows
A warp whose threads vary by fifteen per cent looks perfectly even. One dent of the reed a tenth of a millimetre wide makes a streak that gets the piece rejected. The same amount of error, arranged two ways — and the ratio between them is √(2n/π), with nothing fitted in it.
Two shrinkages, one tape measure
A cloth that comes out of a wash smaller has done two different things and the tape cannot tell them apart. One is geometric, recoverable and finished in minutes; the other is frictional, permanent and needs agitation. This collection can now compute both, and they have different signatures.
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.
A garment is cut dry and worn wet
A cutting allowance is one number and the thing it allows for is two, in two directions. Worse: when the two directions differ, a panel cut on the bias does not merely shrink — it rotates, by half a degree for an ordinary poplin, which is nine and a half millimetres of skew across a metre and is invisible to a tape measure.
A slub finds the width of the cloth
A thick place recurring along a weft yarn does not make a bar. It makes diagonals — and when the cloth's width happens to be a whole number of fault periods, it makes stripes down the piece instead, from a fault that is entirely in the weft.
Water tells two fibres apart
Cotton and viscose are the same material by every constant this collection carries. Same density, same modulus, same fineness, so the same diameter at every count and the same crimp, cover, jamming sett and bending bracket. A wash separates them by a factor of two, and it is the only thing here that can.
A cloth has an outside
Every quantity in this collection is a property of the inside of a fabric — a crimp, a cover, a hole, a fibre count. None of them says where the cloth stops. The outside is a height field the draft computes, its crowns stand at two different levels, and which of the two is higher decides what the cloth touches the world with.
A course is one thread and a warp is many
A woven fabric draws its warp from two thousand packages side by side, so a yarn's drift averages out across the width. A weft knit takes whole courses from one package, so the same drift becomes a band — and the standard remedy for that turns an invisible error into a visible one.
A filter is rated by the hole it does not show
A woven filter cloth is sold on two numbers pulling opposite ways: an opening small enough to hold the soil and an open area large enough to pass the water. Both are computed from the same holes, and they are not computed from the same statistic of them. One reads the maximum and the other reads the mean, so a change that improves either can worsen the other without moving a single measurable property of the cloth.
A seersucker is made at the loom
Every other relief weave in this collection gets its shape after the loom, from a difference of crimp between two regions of a few per cent. A seersucker's surplus is thirty per cent and is put in as the cloth is woven — an order of magnitude more, which the square root turns into a factor of four in depth and no more than that.
Wetting moves a cloth to another locus
A cloth's constant-thread-length locus is built at a fixed thickness. Swelling changes the thickness, so a wetted cloth is not somewhere else on its own locus — it is on a different one, and the distance between the two least-energy states is the shrinkage. Five of the eight cloths here have a wet state, and one of them gets bigger.
A cloth cannot be more even than its yarn
It can be very much more even than its yarn, and by exactly the square root of the threads in view. Which raises a question the fineness argument left open — and the answer is that at a fixed cloth weight the count cancels out entirely.
A cloth stops having holes before it stops passing air
Close a woven cloth up and the channels between its threads shut. What passes through it does not go to zero, because a thread is sixty per cent fibre and forty per cent air and stays that way whatever is done to the construction. So a fabric's permeability has a floor, the floor belongs to the yarn rather than to the weaver, and no sett on any loom reaches it.
A crease is a fold the crimp cannot supply
A fold needs its outer face longer than its inner, and a woven cloth's way of supplying a length is to move crimp. That runs out at a radius of millimetres, and a pressed crease is tenths of one — so the fold is handed to the fibres. How hard it strains them turns on a question that two fields of these essays had left unsettled, and a crease settles it by refusing.
Recovery is measured and nothing predicts it
A fibre's stiffness is a bracket whose ends can be computed. What fraction of a strain it gives back is not: it has to be looked up, the tables are thin, they stop exactly where a fabric needs them, and the most attractive explanation for the ordering they show turns out to have no signal in it at all.
A tuft is set so it cannot untwist
A cut pile tuft has a free end, and at a free end the pressure holding the twist is zero. So the twist runs out over a computable length, the tuft opens, and a carpet loses its appearance long before it loses any material.
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.
A windproof cloth is at its yarn's limit
Windproof is a threshold on air permeability, and it is the only fabric specification on this site that the construction cannot settle. No weavable sett of an ordinary shirting yarn gets within two hundred times of it, layering the cloth barely helps because the resistance is inertial rather than viscous, and the floor set by the yarn's own porosity lands on the same order as the threshold with a fivefold bracket around it.
The fourth power is a close cloth's rule
Every account of a fabric's air permeability quotes the same thing: flow down a channel goes as the fourth power of its width, so a small change of sett is a large change of flow. That is Poiseuille's result, it is about the viscous drop, and in an open cloth the viscous drop is two per cent of the pressure. The rule becomes true as the cloth closes, and where it starts being true is a number.
Which fibres crease, and why there are two answers
Run the sharpest fold a yarn can make against every fibre's breaking extension and its recovery, and the ranking that falls out is the trade's own — linen worst, cotton next, wool and the melt-spun filaments best. It falls out of two columns rather than one, because two fibres in the bottom three get there by different mechanisms, and a treatment that fixes one does nothing for the other.
A chenille is a yarn that is already a fabric
A chenille yarn is a woven gauze cut into strips. Every structural question this collection asks about cloth can be asked about it — does it hang together, how many systems has it, what holds the pile in — and the answers are the same answers one level down.
How 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.
The pore that wicks is the pore that leaks
A cloth's water resistance and a cloth's wicking are one expression, read at the two ends of a contact angle. The geometry cannot be chosen to give both, because it is the same geometry; the only thing that decides which a fabric does is a finish. And the two questions do not even read the same pore — a rise is set by the finest and a leak by the coarsest, so the same cloth lifts water three metres and holds it back at fifty-six millimetres.
The wind takes the air and not the cloth
A shirting's own thermal resistance is eight per cent of what a person wearing it has; the other ninety-two is a still-air layer half a millimetre thick clinging to its outside. Wind destroys both, and it destroys the larger one first and by a mechanism that has nothing to do with the fabric — so a windproof layer works by keeping air still rather than by resisting heat.
Warmth is a thickness of air
A fabric is a tenth fibre and the rest air, so its thermal conductivity is a mixture of the two — and the pair of bounds that any mixture must lie between comes out narrower than the difference between wool and nylon. The model cannot tell one fibre from another in a cloth. What it can tell, exactly and with no bracket at all, is that twice the thickness is twice the warmth.
A pile is the only surface with no crowns
Every other fabric touches on the tops of curved threads, so its contact vanishes as the load goes to zero and the pressure on what is touching rises without limit. A cut pile touches on flat ends left in one plane by a blade — so its contact is finite at no load at all, its pressure concentration is bounded, and it is the only fabric whose abrasion mass loss is an honest measure of its damage.
A loop is nine tenths free run
Half the yarn in a knitted stitch is slack — the straight line between two interlacings is a little over half the thread available to span it. That is two orders of magnitude more room than a woven thread has, and it is why a knitted loop is a shape that can be solved rather than a shape that has to be constructed.