The thread: Structure before fibre — page 3
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 finish spends a spread before it spends a mean
Every operation on a cloth multiplies the variation it inherits by its own log-slope, so an operation with an exponent below one makes the cloth more even and one above it makes the cloth less even. Calendering, which is bought for evenness, has an exponent of 1.4.
A tear asks fewer threads than a pull
A strip test averages a hundred threads and a tear interrogates four. That difference alone accounts for the two things everybody knows about tear testing — that it reads low, and that it scatters — without anything about the cloth being different between the two tests.
A thickness is a maximum, not a mean
A presser foot rests on whatever is highest beneath it, so the thickness of a fabric is an extreme value — and an extreme grows with how much cloth is asked. The standard specifies the foot's area because the foot's area is in the answer.
Half the air goes through a tenth of the holes
A permeability computed from the average hole says nothing about which holes the air uses. Once the threads have a spread, the answer is: not many of them — and in a close cloth, half the flow leaves through less than a tenth of the openings.
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.
Hair, nap and pile are one construction
There are three surfaces made of fibre standing off a cloth, and they have been arrived at from three different directions and in three different fields. They are the same object at three settings, and what separates them is not what they are but how much of them anybody decided.
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 warp jams where its threads are thickest
The closest a cloth can be set is decided by its worst pair of neighbours, not its average thread — and the worst pair depends on how many pairs there are. The same yarn in a wider loom jams sooner, which makes a jammed sett a property of the machine as well as of the yarn.
Singeing is the cheapest change to a surface
Pass a cloth through a flame fast enough and it loses under one per cent of its mass. What it loses is the part of itself that was doing most of the touching, and lustre, friction, printability, pilling and measured cover all move at once.
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.
How many fibres make a thread
Every number in this collection began with a diameter, and a diameter is not a measurement — it is a count of fibres, divided. Once the division is written down, three quantities that had nothing to do with each other turn out to be the same number.
Raising moves the surface onto the hairs
A raising machine pulls fibre ends up out of the floats, and what a finger or a light then meets is not the cloth's surface at all but a layer of loose fibre standing above it. The criterion for which cloths can be raised is the same criterion, exactly, that decides which cloths have crown line — so raising spends the surface that would have made the fabric shine.
A jersey gets taller before it gets shorter
Pull a knit along its courses and the first thing it does is grow along its wales — by two per cent, over the first eighty per cent of extension, before it turns round and contracts. The transverse response changes sign, and there is no material in the explanation at all.
A finer yarn is a worse yarn
Fineness is the thing a yarn is priced for, and it is bought with irregularity at a fixed exchange rate. Once the spread is a function of the count, every correction this collection computes becomes a function of the count too — and the cheapest yarn on the shelf is the one the arithmetic describes best.
A straight fibre cannot share the load
Extend a twisted yarn and its fibres are not all strained alike: the one on the axis takes the whole of it and the one at the surface takes cos²α. So they do not break together, and what a wandering fibre is worth comes out as one expression with nothing fitted in it.
The other crepe is in the yarn
A crepe weave puts the texture in the matrix. A crepe yarn puts it nowhere the matrix can see: the cloth is a plain weave, and the surface comes from a thread twisted so hard that it shortens by a seventh and spends the rest of its life trying to untwist.
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.
A float reflects into a line
A cylinder cannot return a beam to a point. Its normals sweep the whole half-turn across it and nothing at all along it, so a straight thread throws light into a fan — seen as a highlight lying along the thread, exactly as long as the length of thread that is straight. The lobe of a satin is twice as narrow along the thread as across it; the lobe of a plain weave is exactly round.
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 rib pulls back on a force the loop supplies
A cuff has to give a great deal at almost no load and come back reliably, and no ordinary material does both. A rib gets its extension from folding, which is geometry, and its return from the loop reconfiguring, which is now a computable force — under four newtons a metre over the whole range a cuff works across.
Folding is untwisting
Wind two singles round each other and each one turns about its own axis once per turn of the fold. So a folded yarn's singles are not the singles that went into it, and at a folding ratio of exactly one half the two helices cancel.
Lustre is a length times a width
The specular area of a cloth factors exactly: a length of crown line, which the draft supplies, times a width of section within the tolerance, which the yarn and the finish supply. Neither factor knows anything about the other, and over the four-by-four catalogue the first alone spans a factor of sixty.
A 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 two-fold yarn is not twice a single
Folding halves nothing. It improves a yarn's evenness by exactly √2 and lowers the floor that evenness is measured against by exactly √2, so the index of irregularity comes out identical — folding does not make a better yarn, it makes a bigger one.
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.
Where a two-bed fabric's yarn is
Thirteen named structures, and for each of them the share of its yarn that crosses between the beds — read off its own traverse rather than quoted. It separates the fabrics into three groups, and one of the groups turns out not to be a fabric at all.
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.
Turn the cloth and the shine changes hands
A warp crown's normals all lie in the plane across the warp and have no component along it, so a warp float can only mirror light that arrives from across the warp. Turn the cloth a quarter turn and the weft takes over. That is the whole of shot silk — a geometric effect with no dye that changes and no interference in it.
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 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.
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 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.
Which knitted fabrics lie flat
Curl was explained here by counting face changes between courses, which works for stockinette and garter and reaches nothing else. The same question turns out to be a signed sum over a structure's own grid — and it answers for every fabric a two-bed machine can make, including the ones nobody has a rule for.
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.
A tube and an interlock balance for different reasons
Two structures come out identically flat on a signed count and are as unalike as two knitted fabrics get. One is two jerseys that curl in opposite directions and are joined at the edges; the other is a fabric whose every course crosses. Telling them apart needs a different question asked of the same grid.
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.
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 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.
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 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.