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Minor changes made 19 November 2013 <br>
Conversion to hypertext begun 24 April 2014 <br>
Hypertext version linked 10 May 2014 <br>
proofread & corrections made 19 May 2014 <br>
reformatted 6 May 2018
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<div>
<center> <h1> Selecting and Preparing Fabric </h1>
</center>
<a name="TOC">
<h2>Table of Contents</h2> </a>
<ul>
<li><a href="#structure"> Fabric Structures </a></li>
<li><a href="#woven"> Woven Fabrics: Warp and Weft </a></li>
<ul>
<li><a href="#selvages"> Selvages </a></li>
<li><a href="#bias"> True Bias and other grains </a></li>
<li><a href="#weaves"> Assorted weaves </a></li>
</ul>
<li><a href="#knits"> Knits: weft and warp </a></li>
<ul>
<li><a href="#weftk"> Weft knits </a></li>
<li><a href="#warpk"> Warp knits </a></li>
</ul>
<li><a href="#shrink"> Shrinking </a></li>
<li><a href="#select"> Selecting Fabric and Straightening
the Grain </a></li>
<li><a href="#fibers"> Choose fibers by their properties
</a></li>
<ul>
<li><a href="#rayon"> Rayon </a></li>
<li><a href="#polyester"> Polyester </a></li>
<li><a href="#nylon"> Nylon </a></li>
<li><a href="#acrylic"> Acrylic </a></li>
<li><a href="#cotton"> Cotton and Other Plant Fibers
</a></li>
<ul>
<li><a href="#linen"> Linen and other bast fibers
</a></li>
<li><a href="#seed"> Seed Hairs other than cotton
</a></li>
</ul>
<li><a href="#animal"> Animal fibers </a></li>
<ul>
<li><a href="#wool"> Wool </a></li>
<li><a href="#silk"> Silk </a></li>
<li><a href="#feathers"> Feathers and Down </a></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<li><a href="#tear"> Tearing Fabric </a></li>
</ul>
</div>
<hr>
<div>
<a name="structure">
<h2>Fabric Structures </h2> </a>
<p> If we define fabric as something flexible that
has length and width, but not much thickness, then
some fabrics are "found". Perhaps they are
worn as-is, or merely cut and joined — green
leaves are sometimes worn in hot climates.
More often, found fabrics are treated to preserve
them; for example, animal skins are tanned into
leather or cured into parchment or vellum.
</p><p> Most of our fabrics are made.
</p><p> Some are made by extruding or molding sheets
of a plastic substance. Such fabrics are
used for drop cloths, table covers, see-through
pockets, rain gear, and many other things, but are
apt to be uncomfortable on the skin.
Pushing a needle through film fabrics (and most
found fabrics) leaves a permanent hole, so they
must be sewn with great caution. Some
cannot be sewn at all, because they tear along the
line of holes that a seam creates. Most
film fabrics, however, can be welded or glued.
</p><p> Most of the common fabrics are made by
combining fibers.
</p><p> Papyrus and bark cloth are made by arranging
narrow slips of fragile found fabric —slices
of reed, or strips of bark— and pounding
them until they stick together.
</p><p> Paper, felt, and "non-woven" interlining are
made by inducing fibers to stick together in
sheets.
</p><p> Fibers run every which way in felted fabrics,
but the fibers often have a preferred direction,
or two or more preferred directions.
Cutting such felts with due respect for this
preferred direction is called "cutting with the
grain". Stretch felt gently in every
direction to see whether it has a grain.
Sometimes felt has such a pronounced grain
that it pulls apart easily when stretched at right
angles to the predominant direction of the fibers,
but felt of this quality should not be marketed as
apparel felt. Non-woven interlining may
tear more easily in one direction than another; it
won't tear neatly in any direction.
</p><p> Garment fabrics are usually made by first
spinning fibers into threads, then weaving or
knitting the threads. There are dozens of
ways, maybe hundreds of ways, to make threads into
fabric, but only weaving, machine knitting, and a
few machine-lace techniques produce fabrics that
are cheap enough to cut and sew.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<a name="woven">
<h2>Woven Fabrics: Warp and Weft </h2> </a>
</p><p> Weaving is probably the oldest way to make
fabric; it certainly antedates the spinning of
thread. Our remotest ancestors wove baskets
and mats from twigs, stems, and everything else
they could find or make. In the millions of
years since, we've found thousands of ways to
weave, but all methods that can properly be called
weaving start with threads somehow stretched and
held parallel. These threads are called the
"warp".
</p><p> If you have trouble remembering that word,
think of threads stretched on a frame so tightly
that the frame warps from the tension. Hey,
it could happen. Down through the ages, a
few weavers must have warped their looms while
they were warping them. (It would have to
be a pretty poor loom, and "warp" and "warp" are
completely unrelated words, but mnemonics don't
have to be sensible.)
</p><p> When sewing woven fabrics, we refer to the
warp threads as the "lengthwise grain".
</p><p> The threads woven under and over the warp
threads are called the "weft". Weft threads
are at right angles to the warp, and in sewing,
this direction is called the "crosswise grain".
</p><p> Think of "weft" as "that which is woven",
just as "straw" is "that which is strewn."
This is in the general neighborhood of the real
etymology.
</p><p> In old references, you may find "woof" where
"weft" is meant. This was also derived from
the same root as "weave", in a different
dialect. When they met, "weft" won.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
</p><a name="selvages">
<h3>Selvages </h3> </a>
<p> The place where the weft threads turn to go
back across the cloth is called the "selvage", a
corruption of "self edge". Often there is a
band of different warp threads at the selvage, or
a different style of weaving.
</p><p> Sheeting and some kinds of toweling are woven
with a particularly thick and sturdy fabric at the
selvage.
</p><p> Some fabrics simply end at the selvage, but
are straight and smooth and need no finish:
twill tape, seam binding, some ribbons, and the
better grades of linen toweling are examples.
</p><p> In some fabrics, the different warp threads
at the selvage are meant to help in keeping the
edge straight during weaving, and were under
greater tension than the rest. The
extra-tight threads will shrink more than the
rest, causing the selvage to pucker. Such a
selvage must be torn off (or cut off, if the
fabric doesn't tear neatly), but if it is wide
enough, and if the shrinking is even enough, it
can be used as tape. Check to see whether
these special warp threads are the same fiber as
the rest of the fabric; they won't be listed in
the fiber content, since you aren't expected to
use them.
</p><p> Sometimes the special threads shrink
<em>less</em> than the rest, causing the selvage
to ruffle after the fabric is washed. You
can lay out your pattern without tearing off the
ruffles, since they don't prevent the fabric from
lying flat, but it's often easier to lay out
without the ruffled selvages. Like puckered
selvages, ruffles sometimes flatten into usable
tape when torn off, but may not match the rest of
the fabric.
</p><p> Sometimes the selvage lies flat, but the weft
threads are distorted or curved at the point where
they fold back, or the selvage has little notches
in it where some weft threads are tighter than
others, or one or both selvages are messy with
weft threads carried from one stripe to the
next. There is no risk in cutting out with
selvages like this still on the fabric, and those
that aren't too distorted can be used as finished
edges in places that don't show. Snip off
long floats, and avoid selvages in which the warp
threads are distorted, and those that feel stiff
or tight or in some undefinable way wrong.
</p><p> It often happens that selvages don't match,
so look at both closely before deciding what to do
with them.
</p><p> In the bad old days, torn-off selvages
—called "list"— were sewn to fabric in
overlapping rows to make a sort of pile
fabric. This "list work" was done primarily
to give wealthy women something to do with their
time, and secondarily to provide beggars with warm
garments.
</p><p> Not all fabrics have selvages — the
fastest weaving machines blow individual threads
through the shed instead of carrying a single
thread back and forth on a shuttle. There
is a special thread to keep the fabric from
unravelling, but these fringed "selvages" wear out
too quickly to be used as finished edges.
</p><p> However, the more-expensive "tuck selvage",
in which the ends of the weft threads are tucked
back into the shed to resemble the old-fashioned
selvage, stands up quite well to wear. You
will spot this selvage by the rough streak on the
wrong side, where the tucked ends poke out.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
</p><a name="bias">
<h3>True Bias and other grains </h3> </a>
<p> The "true bias" of woven fabric runs at
forty-five degrees across the cloth, intersecting
both sets of threads at the same angle.
Other angles are called "bias" or "off grain",
according to context.
</p><p> Woven fabric usually has more "give" along the
weft threads than along the warp threads, because
the warp threads were under more tension during
weaving, and have stretched as much as they are
going to. Since the warp threads have been
stretched, woven fabric usually shrinks more
lengthwise than crosswise when it is first washed.
</p><p> Woven fabric has the most give of all when
pulled on the true bias, as threads can yield by
shifting their angles as well as by elongation.
</p><p> It is easier to crease most woven fabrics
parallel to the warp threads, because the weft
threads bend more easily, and spring back less
vigorously. Often, the warp threads are
stronger than the weft threads, because the weft
doesn't have to stand up to much strain during
weaving. Sometimes the difference between
the lengthwise grain and the cross grain is
marked, sometimes it is hard to keep track of
which is which. The very expensive
"evenweave" fabrics sold for art embroidery
attempt to have no difference at all.
</p><p> (It is, of course, possible for a weaver to
use a stretchy thread for the warp and an
inelastic thread for the weft, but this is not
common.)
</p><p> Most fabrics hang better when the warp
threads run up and down; belts and bands usually
have the lengthwise grain running horizontally,
because it is stronger than the crosswise grain,
and because it stretches less.
</p><p> The rule for wovens is, have the warp threads
—the lengthwise grain— parallel to the
stress. (Unless, of course, the warp
threads are Lycra and the weft threads are
not. Stretch an unfamiliar fabric in all
directions and see where the give lies.)
</p><p> Seams usually lie more neatly if both pieces
are cut on the same grain, whether it's
lengthwise, crosswise, true bias, or
slanting. It is wise to pay close attention
to the grain when cutting out; if the threads
don't run true to start with, they may try to
straighten themselves out later, causing the
garment to twist, hang oddly, be uncomfortable,
and wear quickly.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<a name="weaves">
<h3>Assorted weaves </h3> </a>
<p> If the warp threads conceal the weft threads,
the fabric is called "warp faced". If the
weft conceals the warp, the fabric is "weft
faced". True tapestry is a weft-faced
fabric. These unbalanced styles of weaving
tend to be thick and stiff, so they are used more
often for rugs, blankets, belts, webbing, and the
like than for apparel fabrics, but some kinds make
excellent outerwear.
</p><p> Twill weaves are softer and more flexible for
their thickness than plain weaves, so are often
used for durable fabrics — the denim used in
jeans is a twill. In twill weaves, the weft
goes under or over more than one thread at a time,
shifting with each throw of the shuttle so as to
make diagonal lines on the fabric. Examine
a piece of twill tape and note the diagonal
stripes: streaks of horizontal threads
alternating with streaks of vertical
threads. In twill tape, the weft usually
goes over and under the same number of warp
threads, so that the weft and warp show equally,
in separate stripes.
</p><p> To assure symmetry, tape twills usually
reverse direction in vertical stripes, producing a
herringbone pattern. It is also possible to
make herringbone in horizontal stripes, or to
change both horizontally and vertically, covering
the fabric with diamond patterns. Bird's
eye diaper fabric is a diamond-pattern
twill. (The word "diaper" originally meant
a diamond arrangement of motifs; it was probably
the absorbancy of cotton woven in the bird's-eye
diaper pattern that effected the change to the
current meaning.)
</p><p> If the number of warp threads gone under is
different from the number gone over, the width of
the weft stripes will be different from the width
of the warp stripes. If the difference is
considerable, and if the shifting of the pattern
is done in such a way as to obscure the diagonal
lines, you will have a <em>satin weave</em> in
which the face of the fabric is smoothly covered
with floats of warp thread, or a <em>sateen
weave</em> in which it is smoothly covered with
floats of weft thread. In either case, the
back is likely to look more like a plain weave
than like a twill, but some expensive ribbons are
<em>double faced satin</em>: covered with
warp floats on both sides, with a bead of weft
only one or two threads wide showing at the
selvage.
</p><p> Cloth merchants are apt to call either weave
"sateen" when it is made of cotton or an imitation
of cotton, and "satin" when it is made of silk or
an imitation of silk.
</p><p> If a pattern is made by combining patches of
satin weave with patches of sateen weave, you have
a damask. The word "damask" conjures up
elegant table linen with a subtle white-on-white
pattern, but when the warp and weft are different
colors, the patterns can be striking. The
ever-popular red-checked tablecloths are a damask
in which most of the fabric is one weave, but a
rose is depicted in the other at each of the
places where a red stripe intersects a white
stripe. Checkered damask is now available
in many different colors, and with many different
symbols on the two-color squares.
</p><p> Sally Fox once sold an elegant variation of
damask in which the warp is white, the weft is
brown, and a design is picked out in three shades
by combining plain weave with satin, sateen, and
other twills. She called this "paisley".
</p><p> There are many fancy weaves, but most can be
regarded as complications of twill weaves and
plain weaves.
</p><p> If a loom has four or more "harnesses", as
the assemblies that raise and lower the warp
threads are called, a weaver can make two separate
lengths of fabric on one warp, by assigning half
the harnesses to one layer and half to the
other. The weaver may use this trick to
make a piece of fabric twice as wide as his loom,
or a seamless tube. A more exciting
possibility is that he may use two shuttles (weft
carriers), and weave two fabrics of contrasting
colors which trade places at intervals to produce
a double-faced fabric with a light-on-dark pattern
on one side and a dark-on-light pattern on the
other.
</p><p> There are an infinite number of other ways to
produce woven-in color patterns. The
easiest way is to switch shuttles at intervals to
produce horizontal stripes, or to use several
colors of warp threads to make lengthwise
stripes. If the weaver varies both the warp
and the weft, he produces checks and plaids.
</p><p> Checks are ideal to practice sewing on,
because they magnify the grain and make it easy to
see what you are doing. The designer's
favorite fabric for "muslins" —trial
garments to be taken apart and used as
patterns— is checked gingham, because it is
marked with a convenient grid.
</p><p> Plaids also mark the grain for you, but a
pattern that's more complicated can be more
complicated to match. Plaids may be
unsymmetrical, and plaids with a very long repeat
may waste a great deal of fabric in the
cutting. You <em>can</em> handle it, but be
aware that you are going to have to look at the
fabric and think.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<h2><a name="knits">
Knits can be divided into weft knits and warp knits.
</a></h2>
<p><a name="weftk"> Most of the knits you run into will be weft
knits. Weft knits are made of horizontal
courses of thread: a single thread runs
around and around, or back and forth.
</a></p><p> The structure is much like that of hand
knitting; most of the time, the only difference is
that the factory fabric is knitted of a thread so
fine that it would try the hand-knitter's
patience, eyesight, and temper. Some tricks
that are easy on a machine are difficult on
needles, and some tricks that are easy on needles
are difficult or impossible on a machine.
</p><p> Like hand knitters, the machines can make
two-layer fabrics. The two layers can each
have a presentable face, or one face can be a
tangle of the colors not used on the other
face. Sometimes both faces are presentable,
but one is plainer than the other; the faces may
clash, or one face may be a particularly suitable
trim for the other. When both faces are
plain, the fabric is called "interlock".
Fancier two-layer knits are called "double
knit". In interlock and most double knits,
the two faces are welded together by rows that
have stitches on both faces.
</p><p> Double-knit fabrics are usually more stable
and easier to sew than single-knit fabrics, longer
wearing, more opaque, warmer, and less inclined to
muss. Some cotton interlocks are so
stretchy as to make one look closely to make sure
they aren't one-on-one ribbing.
</p><p> A plain single knit is called "jersey".
Cotton jersey is apt to be called "T-shirt knit".
</p><p> Some fabrics that appear to be double-woven
or double knit are actually two fabrics glued
together. (Sometimes one of the fabrics is
woven and one is knit.) Under heavy wear,
glue sometimes gives way and allows the layers to
separate. Bonded fabrics are particularly
unsuitable for garments that get filthy every time
they are worn, as many kinds of dirt attack glue,
and strong detergents and vigorous washing tend to
remove the glue along with the dirt.
</p><p>
<a name="warpk"> Warp knits are made of a large number of
threads, each running up the fabric, looping
alternately to the left and right. The
tricots used in underwear are warp knits.
Warp knits stretch less than weft knits,
particularly in the lengthwise grain.
</a>
</p><p> The direction of maximum stretch on a knit is
the crosswise grain — along the threads of a
weft knit, and at right angles to them in a warp
knit.
</p><p> The direction of minimum stretch is on the
lengthwise grain — marked by columns of
stitches in both varieties, if the stitches are
not obscured by a fancy pattern.
</p><p> There is no true bias on a knitted
fabric. If a piece is to be cut on the bias
for greater stretch, cut it on the crossgrain of a
knit, as that is where the maximum stretch
is. The equivalent of bias tape in a knit
is a strip cut on the cross grain.
</p><p> Most knits have little inclination to
ravel. Some, however, are liable to
<em>run</em>: if one loop breaks, the loop
below it will be free to slip out of the next loop
below, which is then free to slip . . . etc.
This is most noticeable in thin fabrics which are
made of slippery fibers and worn under
stress: you will note that this describes
nylon hose perfectly. Note whether the
fabric is inclined to run before deciding how to
finish the seams. Some fabrics will run in
one direction, but not in the other, so examine
both cut edges.
</p><p> Plain weft knits tend to curl toward the
front on crossgrain edges, and they tend to curl
toward the back on lengthwise edges. Fancy
knits may reduce this tendency: for
example, double knits usually have two front
sides, so that the fabric can't curl either way,
and single-knit patterns may be composed of equal
patches of "front" and "back", so that the fabric
can't decide which way to curl.
</p><p> Ribbing gets its great horizontal stretch by
being made of columns that alternate front and
back; each little stripe tries to curl into a
tube; when you pull it crosswise, you open out
these little tubes.
</p><p> Likewise, the less-common fabrics made up of
horizontal stripes of front and back, called
"welting", will stretch easily when pulled
vertically, until they reach the height that they
would have had if knitted plain.
</p><p> You usually can't draw a thread in knit
fabric, but if you do succeed in drawing a thread
out, the fabric will fall into two pieces.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<h2><a name="shrink">Shrinking</a></h2>
<p> Nearly every fabric should be washed, or at
least be thoroughly wet, before you work with it.
</p><p> The primary exception to pre-washing is the
object expected to shrink after it is made.
A tailor's ham, for example, should be made of
unwashed loom-state fabric, so that it will
tighten still more after being stuffed as firmly
as possible.
</p><p> A fabric which can be machine dried should be
machine dried, to shrink it as much as
possible. Set the dryer so hot that you
have to hang around and watch it. Take your
fabric to a laundromat and use the big dryer, to
reduce wrinkling.
</p><p> If you don't use a dryer, you need a large,
clean surface to dry the fabric flat. Use a
towel-covered bed, or a freshly-scrubbed picnic
table — the lawn will do, if you lock up the
dog. In a pinch, thread the cloth through
several coat hangers hung on the line.
Avoid line drying, or at least put the pins very
close together. You can also iron it dry;
there is still danger of drying it unevenly
stretched, but not as much danger as there is in
letting all the weight hang from one edge.
</p><p> You can dry fabric draped back and forth over
the ironing board, if your ironing board is
rectangular, or your fabric is narrower than the
straight part of your ironing board. Set
the board as high as it will go, and let the
fabric hang as near the floor as is safe, to
reduce the number of layers.
</p><p> A long shower-curtain rod is also a good
place to drape large pieces of wet fabric.
</p><p> If you can't get a fabric or notion wet, at
least get it damp. Be careful if you use
damp towels for this purpose, for it often happens
that the reason something is marked "dry clean
only" is that the dye bleeds, and will stain your
towels. If you are foolish enough to work
with dry-clean-only fabrics often, save some large
rags, such as old cotton sheets, to use when you
"sponge" fabric. Solid-color cloth can be
folded up in close company with wrung-out sheets
for an hour or two before it's pressed and laid
out to dry.
</p><p> If you don't want to risk sponging, take the
fabric to a dry cleaner and ask that it be steam
pressed.
</p><p> If you are using up remnants, it's useful to
know that some dry-clean-only fabrics will shrink
and acquire a different-but-still-attractive
texture when they are washed and dried by machine,
and can then be made into washable garments.
To convert dry-clean to washable, use hot water,
and lots of agitation. Fabric will shrink
and felt faster if you crowd the washer.
Watch out for lint, bleeding dye, and ceremonial
fabrics that won't take any wear at all.
Expect the fabric to get fuzzier, and quite a lot
thicker.
</p><p> Wash doubtful fabrics at least twice, and
heavy fabrics three times, to be sure of getting
out all the finishes and stiffeners. If the
color is solid, you can soak the fabric in
detergent and cold water overnight, then wash it
in the same water. Whether cleaning or
pre-treating, fabric must be rinsed in at least
two changes of water to get out the soap.
Watch out for "water saving" washing machines that
leave suds in your clothes; it may be necessary to
put the fabric through an entire extra cycle
without soap or detergent.
</p><p> If you fear that the fabric will ravel while
being washed and dried, overcast the edge with a
zig-zag machine or a serger.
</p><p> If you can't machine overcast, baste the raw
edges together, making a big loop, and wash with
the "right" side of the seam out. (Some say
that this also reduces tangling.) If a
plain seam doesn't seem adequate, baste in a
french seam. The fabric may fade or wear
along the crease, but this part of the fabric will
be a seam allowance or inside a hem.
</p><p> Tapes (and other notions that would tangle in
the washer) can be soaked in a bowl or a
sink. Give them plenty of time to
relax. Some notions shrink more than ten
percent. Blot tape in a towel and iron it
dry, as hot as you dare.
</p><p> Consider tying tape into hanks and then
sewing it into a pillowcase before running it
through a gentle cycle. Use the hottest
water and strongest soap you dare, and give it
plenty of soaking time.
</p><p> You pretty much have to trust bias tape,
since shrinking would take out the folds, but
steam-iron it at some stage before final
stitching, or press it through a damp cloth.
If you make your own tape, wash the fabric before
you cut it. Use detergent, to get out
anything that might wash out later. If it
comes out loppy and hard to sew, starch it, or use
a spray-on stiffener. Bear in mind that it
will go back to being loppy when the garment is
washed.
</p><p> If you <em>have</em> to use a store-bought
bias tape and it <em>has</em> to be washed first,
you can baste the folds in. I've only done that
once, but it worked perfectly. Stitch an eighth
of an inch from the raw edge, and press the tape
before you remove the basting.
</p><p> If you can't find laundry starch in the
stores, stir a tablespoon of cornstarch into a
pint of water, and bring it to a boil while
stirring constantly. This solution can be
used full-strength and boiling-hot for board-like
stiffness, or you can dilute it with cold
water. Use more cornstarch to make stuff
stiffer, and less cornstarch to make stuff less
stiff. If the dye and fiber are boilfast,
small bits of coarse lace can be dropped into
boiling solution dry, for maximum stiffness, but
anything more than a few inches across must be
wringing wet, so that it can absorb the starch
evenly.
</p><p> Starch solution gets weaker as it is used,
because fabric scavenges starch out of the water.
</p><p> Traditionally, clothing is washed, removed
from the washer, dropped into a bucket of starch
solution, swished about, wrung by hand, shaken
out, dried thoroughly on a clothesline, sprinkled
lightly, left rolled up for a few hours or
overnight, and ironed.
</p><p> For a light finish, starch solution can be
added to the final rinse. Use the same
precautions you use with bleach, to avoid stiff
spots. Machine-wrung fabric may be ironed
dry, but it is easier to line dry it, dampen it,
and then iron.
</p><p> Starched fabric should not be machine-dried,
because tumbling takes out the starch.
</p><p> Small articles can be blocked instead of
ironing them. Plaster a dripping-wet item
to the side of the fridge, a window, or other
smooth surface, and pat with a towel to flatten it
and remove excess water. Allow to dry, and
peel off. The side next to the smooth
surface will be glossy, and the exposed surface
will be matte. Put the right side down if
you want it glossy, and put the wrong side down if
you want the right side to be matte.
</p><p> You can also block freshly-starched articles
by pinning them out, or by stretching them on
various frames which used to be made for this
purpose. (Pants stretchers are still
available, but curtain stretchers must be found in
antique shops or custom made.) Remove
excess starch by wringing, spinning in a washer,
blotting or rolling in a towel, or whatever seems
appropriate. If the blocking board is
waterproof, the item can be pinned out dripping
and then blotted just enough to keep starch from
filling up the holes in the lace. (I'm
assuming that you wouldn't go to the trouble of
pinning out if it weren't lace.) Use
rustproof pins, and pin diagonally-opposite points
first, then pin about halfway between previous
pins until the piece has the desired shape.
Do not remove the pins until you are quite certain
that the piece is perfectly dry.
</p><p> Stainless-steel T pins are good for pinning
out, as you can push them firmly without hurting
your fingers.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<a name="select">
<h2>Selecting Fabric and Straightening the Grain: </h2> </a>
<p> Rough sewing is at least as fussy about grain
as fine sewing; simple things leave you nowhere to
hide slaunchwise threads. If a dish towel
is off-grain, for example, it will fight you every
time you try to fold it and put it into a
drawer. Since dish towels are at their best
just before they disintegrate altogether, an
off-grain towel will annoy you on a great many
wash days before you can discard it.
</p><p> For this reason, the practical seamster tears
cloth to shape whenever it's feasible. Most
natural fibers will tear neatly. Exceptions
include knits, and fabrics that are too strong to
tear at all. I won't swear to the tearing
qualities of silk. I had passed my sewing
prime before we re-established trade with Red
China, so the only silk I've ever torn is
velvet. (Velvet tears beautifully, but has
little place in practical sewing.)
</p><p> Tearing synthetics or synthetic blends is
hazardous; sometimes threads will pull inches or
even feet into the cloth before they break.
(This is why the cloth meter that notched fabric
for tearing was replaced by simple yardsticks in
fabric stores.) However, the same
slipperiness that displaces threads when you try
to tear usually makes it easy to draw a thread.
</p><p> Some blends combine the properties of their
fibers in such a way that the threads pull easily,
but won't draw at all. Luckily, there is
little use for blended fibers in work where almost
straight isn't good enough.
</p><p> Blends are useful mostly in cotton-type
shirts, where they save ironing time.
Adding synthetic to wool does nothing but bring
the price down, and dramatically reduces the
durability of the fabric. Polywools are
useful for practice pieces and pattern testing,
since they closely mimic the properties of the
real thing when they have not yet been worn.
Wool blends also reduce the cost of ceremonial
garments that aren't worn much and are never
washed.
</p><p> Before buying a blend to make a shirt, find
the corner of the fabric, crumple it in your hand,
squeeze for a few seconds, then release the fabric
and see whether the creases spring out. If
you can smooth it with the palm of your hand, you
might have a no-iron fabric. If the fabric
looks unalterably messy, pass it up. Also
pass up any fabric that is visibly off grain,
since permanent-press fabrics cannot be
straightened.
</p><p> Seams in wool shirts and shirts that will
have to be ironed should be flat-fell.
(Mock-fell fringes inside a shirt would tickle,
and the seams of shirts are not subject to hard
wear.) If the fabric is thick, one of the
bound seams may be more appropriate. Note
also that slightly-felted wool does not ravel.
</p><p> Permanent-press shirts should have no top
stitching, since top stitching tends to pucker and
need ironing. Assemble permanent-press
shirts with french seams. It may be worth
your while to sew patch pockets on by hand, since
a carefully-done back stitch won't pucker.
</p><p> The first time a no-iron shirt is washed,
press it with steam whether it appears to need it
or not. This helps to set the shape.
</p><p> Under heavy wear, blends are less durable
than either of the fibers used straight.
The synthetic fibers seem to grind away natural
fibers that are spun together with them. (I
also suspect that cheap, short-stapled fibers are
used for blending.) When separate threads
of natural and synthetic fibers are plied,
knitted, or woven together, you do get a
reinforcing effect. Another trick is to put
a nylon patch over the natural fiber to shield it
from friction, but make sure that the "give" of
the two fabrics is the same in every
direction. If one stretches more than the
other, the patch will tear away at the stitches.
</p><p> Having straightened the ends of fabric by
tearing or by cutting along a thread, you may find
that the threads are not at right angles to one
another. If so, get a second person to help
you grab a section at the corners of a square and
pull vigorously on first one diagonal and then the
other several times, then shift your grips a few
inches and repeat until the whole fabric is
relaxed. (In knits, pull lengthwise and
crosswise.)
</p><p> If you have no help, you face a tedious
process — instead of relieving the stress by
alternate stretching, you must stretch the
diagonal that is too short, working out of one
corner, along the length, and into the other
corner, over and over until it stops springing
back.
</p><p> Sometime a crooked fabric will straighten
itself when washed and machine dried, and if it
doesn't, it might shape up if you fold it in half
lengthwise, baste the edges together, and run it
through again.
</p><p> Some fabrics have a definite right and wrong
side, some are the same on both sides, and some
appear to be the same on both sides, but prove to
be different once the garment is made up.
</p><p> Before cutting, you must decide which side is
the right side and, if the difference isn't
obvious, mark the wrong side with chalk.
Large X marks are often suggested for this
purpose, but if you use "this side up" arrows, you
can also mark the nap and grain.
</p><p> It is a good idea to put more arrows on
scraps as they fall away, so that you can continue
to match sides and grains when you use the
left-overs. If you think the chalk arrows
will wear off in storage, use small
graphite-pencil arrows in places where they aren't
apt to spoil the finished product.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<a name="fibers">
<h2>Choose fibers by their properties:</h2> </a>
<p><a name="rayon"> Rayon </a>often confuses people because it is
man-made, but not synthetic. Cellulose from
various sources is dissolved, then extruded into
filaments. There are many kinds of rayon,
known by many, many names. One early
variety was nitrocellulose — a substance
also known as guncotton! Needless to say,
it was jerked off the market rather hastily, and
modern rayons are no more of a fire hazard than
unregenerated plant fibers.
</p><p> Originally made as a substitute for silk,
rayons are smooth and comfortable to the touch,
but tend to fade and lose luster when
washed. Rayons make excellent underwear and
ladies' stockings because they combine the
breathability of plant fibers with the slickness
of synthetics. There is currently a
regrettable vogue for making dress-up garments of
rayon and marking them "dry clean only".
</p><p> "Acetate" is short for acetate rayon.
</p><p> Really, really persistent Googling revealed
that "bamboo" is also a regenerated cellulose
fiber. Many of the people who have used it
assert that it is superior to the other rayons.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<p>
<a name="polyester"> Polyester has </a>little or no stretch, tends to
resume its shape after washing, and doesn't absorb
water. Polyester makes good rain gear
— and lousy towels. It makes
excellent kite strings and climbing rope, and is
good for garments where a neat appearance is
important.
</p><p> Polyester is often knitted, or combined with
Lycra, so polyester fabrics may have a great deal
of stretch even though the fiber itself has
none. The tendency of the fiber to resume
its original crimp or straightness imparts
elasticity to the fabric.
</p><p> Polycotton makes good office clothes, but is
inclined to pill unless at least 65% cotton.
</p><p> Polyester double knit is made of filaments,
not chopped into staple like polyester blends, so
it wears better than blends, and the knit
structure makes it comfortably stretchy.
People got heartily sick of polyester doubleknit
in the seventies, so it will be called by some
other name, but it is still good for clothes that
must look neat and need not endure hard
wear. Modern doubleknits do not snag as
easily as the seventies polyesters.
</p><p> Polyester tends to melt when exposed to heat,
so should not be worn near fire. Don't use
polyester in children's sleepwear or other
garments they will wear when unsupervised.
Chemical treatment of the fabric will stop it from
bursting into flame, but can't stop it from
melting.
</p><p> It's hard to buy sewing thread that isn't
polyester. The better brands of polyester
sewing thread are decent, but cheaply-made
polyester sewing thread is fit only for basting,
and the fuzz makes it hard to pull out.
Polyester thread wrapped or blended with cotton
has no redeeming virtues — unless you sew so
fast that your needle gets hot, in which case a
cotton wrap can keep a polyester core from
melting.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<p><a name="nylon"> Nylon </a>has lots and lots of stretch, and is
water repellent and slippery. Excellent for
sewing thread and rain gear. Inclined to
ravel if not cut with a hot knife, so seam
finishing may be very important. It is very
strong and makes good bags etc., but its
slipperiness makes it inclined to pull out at the
seams under stress. Nylon is often used to
reinforce other fibers at points of wear.
Most nylons melt when exposed to heat, but the
Nomex used in fire-fighter's "turnout" uniforms is
a nylon. When in doubt, assume that the
nylon in hand is a fire hazard.
</p><p> Pure nylon fabric is usually woven, and has
very little stretch. (Each fiber stretches
easily, but stretching a hundred fibers at once
requires immense force.) Nylon fiber is
often given a permanent wave to imitate the
"crimp" in wool, and blended to provide stretch
and spring-back in knitted fabrics. "Wooly
Nylon" is a popular thread for overlock machines.
</p><p> Nylon sewing thread is very strong but,
because of the slipperiness, it requires care in
securing the ends.
</p><p> "Nymo", an excellent brand that is
regrettably gone, was parallell strands like fine
dental floss. At this writing, dental tape
is displacing dental floss, but the manufacturers
are retaining the label "floss" in the belief that
customers won't understand that tape serves the
same purpose as floss. This may do strange
things to the language. Tape is much better
at cleaning your teeth, but nearly useless for
needlework purposes. If you have floss that
really is floss, it can be useful when you need a
very strong thread — but it may be
<em>too</em> strong, and cut your fabric.
(Dental floss will also cut cheese, which may be
handy to know if you ever buy an entire horn of
Colby. Wrap the ends around sticks
—pencils work— to avoid cutting your
hands.) Since the fibers aren't twisted
together, you can split dental floss to obtain a
finer thread.
</p><p> Nylon thread that is plied like spun thread
— staple is "spun" and filament is "twisted"
but this is not the place to discuss thread-making
techniques — is much used in industry, but
nylon thread is hard to find in sewing
stores. Monofilament nylon, on the other
hand is common under the name "invisible thread";
because the single filament is so thick, it's
prone to permanent kinking, and may break at the
kink. Monofiliment should not be used in
seams that may touch the skin, as the single fiber
is so coarse that an end can cause visible damage
to your skin if it's allowed to persist in
scratching you.
</p><p> Monofilament nylon would probably be better
than dental floss for cutting cheese, but I don't
buy whole horns of cheese any more and can't
check.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<p><a name="acrylic"> Acrylic </a> fibers are noted for making cool
summer clothes.
</p><p> Filament acrylics are as pretty as silk but
not as inclined to sag, and they are comfortable
enough to wear next to the skin.
Unfortunately, acrylic is mostly made into
imitation wool. This is fine and dandy if
you want a "wool" suit to wear in an overheated
office, but can cause discomfort, even danger, if
someone accustomed to wool puts on an acrylic
sweater for protection against the cold.
</p><p> Many a poor soul thinks that wool is
"scratchy" because he put on a wool sweater as
thick as the acrylic sweaters he was accustomed
to, and promptly began to sweat profusely.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<p><a name="cotton"> Cotton </a> and other plant fibers tend to be
cool to the touch, because they absorb and
evaporate water. Plant fibers are superb
for hot-weather wear, but can be fatal in winter
clothes. Cotton flannel is a staple for
winter underwear in situations where it is sure
not to get wet, but no trace of plant fiber should
be used in winter athletic clothing for males, as
active men always sweat enough to dampen their
clothing.
</p><p> Plant fibers tend to muss, so should not be
used for formal wear, except for white shirts that
are washed and ironed fresh for every
wearing. (Starch helps them stay smooth a
bit longer.)
</p><p> Poly-cotton blends combine the appearance of
cotton with the wrinkle-shed properties of
polyester, but also have the breathing properties
of polyester, so polycottons should be used only
for clothing to be worn in climate-controlled
rooms. Men seem to tolerate polyester
better than women, perhaps because they are going
to sweat no matter what, and so don't notice the
"suffocating" properties. A poly-cotton
that is less than sixty-five percent cotton may
pill.
</p><p> Cotton sewing thread used to be the default,
but is now hard to find. When you think
you've found it, it often turns out to be basting
thread or embroidery thread. It takes six
plies to make durable cotton thread, and it's been
a long time since I've seen thread with more than
three. Check by untwisting the
thread: all sewing threads unwind into
three thinner threads, but in serious seam-sewing
thread, each of the three plies is made of two
very-thin "yarns" twisted together.
</p><p> I often use a hard-spun crochet cotton to sew
my plant fibers. If you need to match
color, you may have to choose polyester, or gamble
on a three-ply thread. Since different
fibers fade in different ways, it is better to
start out with a contrasting thread on colors that
are expected to change. (This may be why
jeans were traditionally sewn with orange thread
— the cheap indigo dye was certain to wash
out.) (If you are puzzled by the expression
"true blue" and other ancient references to the
remarkable fastness of indigo, remember that
expensive fabrics were dipped dozens and dozens of
times, to build up the insoluble pigment inside
the fibers. When fabric is dipped only a
few times, most of the indigo is on the surface.)
</p><p> Full-length <a name="linen"> linen </a>
fibers can be spun only by hand, and probably
would have to be grown to your order, so you can
forget about running linen sewing thread through
your machine, but factory-spun linen hand-sewing
thread makes strong seams despite lumps and a
tendency to fray apart while you are sewing.
Soft-spun linen is the traditional thread for
sewing books, because it has less tendency to cut
paper than other strong threads.
</p><p> Linen is even more inclined to muss than
cotton, but much-washed damask gets soft, and less
inclined to wrinkle.
</p><p> Linen is also cooler than cotton, and
hand-spun linen is much stronger and more durable
than cotton. Factory-spun linen is apt
to be weaker and less durable than cotton,
because of having been chopped to a length that
cotton-spinning equipment can handle.
</p><p> A blend of linen and cotton seems to muss
less than either fiber alone, and is cooler than
pure cotton.
</p><p> Most plant fibers are seed hairs like cotton,
or bast fibers like linen. Bast fibers
predominate, because seed hairs have to be bred up
to a usable length, and cotton got there
first. Even in wild plants, some bast
fibers are long enough to be used without being
spun into thread.
</p><p> Since both are bast fibers, and both are used
to make rope, hemp is often confused with
jute. Jute is a coarse, prickly fiber that
is dark brown when not bleached; hemp is as fine
and soft as linen, but has longer fibers.
</p><p> Jute is most often found in burlap, a coarse,
loosely-woven fabric originally used for gunny
sacks. "Agricultural burlap" is a
particularly loose weave used for wrapping the
root-balls of plants.
</p><p> Both hemp and linen are chopped to suit
spinning machinery designed for cotton, so their
full strength is seldom available. We
<em>could</em> design automatic machinery to
handle long fibers, but by the time our technology
had advanced that far, we'd gotten used to the
weak chopped-fiber threads, so it isn't worth
anybody's while to do it.
</p><p><a name="seed"> Kapok </a>is the seed hairs of a tropical
tree, and milkweed down comes from a common
temperate-zone weed. Both fibers are too
slick and short to spin into decent thread, both
are excellent stuffing, and make soft pillows and
smooth-faced rag dolls. Milkweed also has a
good bast fiber in its stem, but this is harvested
only as a stunt.
</p><p> Most bast fibers don't like sharp creases,
and wear quickly along folds. (This is why
fine table linens are rolled on a tube when put
away for a long time.)
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<p><a name="animal"> Animal </a> fibers are warm and resilient, and
second only to Nomex for fire resistance.
</p><p> Most animal fibers are hard to muss, and make
excellent formal wear. "Silk" is sometimes
synonomous with "dressy", and many animal furs and
<a name="wool"> hairs are luxurious, but for easy-care formal
beauty, you can't beat well-made sheep's
wool. </a>
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<p> Wool is hard to wet, so it makes excellent
athletic wear, particularly in the winter.
No other fiber is as good for socks, since it is
the most elastic fiber, and can fit tightly
without cutting off your circulation. It
also doesn't feel wet or stretch out of shape when
you sweat, and wool allows air to get inside your
shoes to cool your feet. It absorbs
more water than any other natural fiber —
which makes it the overall champion, since the
super-absorbent synthetics are seldom used for
apparel. Though very absorbent, wool
doesn't wick worth a nickel, which makes it good
for the outermost layer under rainwear — it
won't pull water in through pores or flaws in the
water-shedding layer.
</p><p> Having been bred for spinning, wool is
usually more durable than the hair, fur, and down
of other animals, but there are many breeds of
sheep, and other kinds of mammal fiber can be
carefully spun to exploit their properties.
Mohair, which is usually spun into a feeble,
fluffy yarn, can be spun into such a durable yarn
that it is often used to reinforce the heels and
toes of wool socks.
</p><p><a name="silk"> Silk </a> is either reeled off the cocoons in
one long filament, or cut into staple and spun.
</p><p> Reeled silk makes excellent sewing thread,
which is stronger than cotton or spun polyester,
but less likely to cut your fabric than nylon
is. Reeled silk is the kind used for silky,
shiny fabrics.
</p><p> Spun silk makes good winter underwear, since
it has cotton's virtues, but doesn't chill you
when it's wet.
</p><p> For durability, choose reeled silk —
when knitted, it makes fine, elastic
underwear. For economy, choose "silk noil"
— silk spun from the scraps of
reeling. Silk is used for luxury clothes,
warm underwear, facings, interfacings, bindings,
linings, and underlinings.
</p><p> Silk fabrics are usually thin or even sheer,
because the fiber is very strong and very
expensive. If you can find a reasonably
thick silk, it will prove to be very durable.
</p><p> Silk not only withstands washing, it will
wear better if it gets wet once in a while.
Pre-washing is particulary important for silk,
which is inclined to water-spot if it has never
been washed. Silk is also likely to shrink
quite a lot the first time it gets wet, having
been dried under tension on the reels. Many
people pre-wash silk even when they plan to make
it into a dry-clean-only garment, so that a stray
drop of water can't ruin it.
</p><p> If you have access to left-over fabrics from
garment factories, silk can be cheap enough to use
for everyday clothing. A silk party dress
may prove more economical than one made from
synthetics, since silk will remain beautiful for a
longer time, and when it is worn or unfashionable,
the party gown can become a comfortable lounging
robe or a warm slip.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<p><a name="feathers"> Feathers </a> and bird down are mostly used
as decoration and stuffing.
</p><p> Goose down is the lightest insulation known,
and can be compressed into a small fraction of its
volume for carrying, then it fluffs out quickly
when shaken, so it used to be the best stuffing
for sleeping bags. However, down is useful
only when you are quite, quite certain that it
will remain dry, so down sleeping bags are
appropriate only in the depths of winter.
</p><p> Down sounds luxurious for pillows, but floofs
out of the path of your descending head, or
flattens into nothing under the weight.
Fine feathers are much more resilient, but are
very hard to find now that synthetic stuffing is
so good and so cheap that people who buy
natural-fiber pillows insist on the more-expensive
down.
</p><p> Sometimes coarse feathers are crushed to make
them resemble fine feathers, but the resilience is
crushed out of them, so that crushed-feather
pillows are heavy, hard, and flat.
</p>
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
<a name="tear">
<h2>Tearing Fabric: </h2> </a>
<p> To start a tear, snip the edge with scissors
or a knife — I've been known to start a tear
with a seam ripper. For accurate tearing,
try to make the snip run exactly along a thread of
the cloth.
</p><p> Grasp one side of the snip with each hand and
pull firmly and steadily, without jerking or
theatrics. Watch the last few
threads: shift your grip to hold and snap
them as you would break a string, or stop tearing
just short of the end, and cut the last quarter
inch with scissors.
</p><p> Press a torn edge with steam to take out any
stretching and curling that may have been
imparted. If the edge is ruffled, spray it
with water, or touch it with a wet rag, and press.
</p><p> Well-worn fabric being torn into rags can
often be started without any snip, as one would
tear paper. To tear in an exact spot, pinch
the fabric in such fashion that your thumbnails
mark the place where the tear is to begin.
Be careful of places where the tear crosses a worn
line such as develops along a crease, and use your
tear-starting pinch to keep the tear from turning
to follow the crease.
</p><p> Only woven fabrics can be torn neatly, and
not all woven fabrics can be torn neatly.
Slick fibers may pull inches or even feet into the
body of the fabric, and fancy weaves may do
unexpected things.
</div>
<p><a href="#TOC">Table of Contents</a></p>
<div>
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