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Address
304 North Cardinal
St. Dorchester Center, MA 02124
Work Hours
Monday to Friday: 7AM - 7PM
Weekend: 10AM - 5PM
You know that frustrating moment when a lining snags on a zipper, bunches at the shoulders, or loses its shape after two wears? Yeah, we’ve all been there. A lot of the time, it’s not bad construction—it’s the wrong tricot.

Tricot is a warp-knit fabric, not a weft knit or woven. That distinction matters. Warp knitting means the yarns run vertically (parallel to the selvage), interlooped in a zigzag pattern across columns. This creates a fabric that’s inherently more stable than weft knits, with less horizontal stretch and better run resistance.
It’s not jersey. It’s not mesh. It’s not even close to power net. Tricot has a fine, close-knit structure—often with a subtle crosswise rib on the face and a more pronounced vertical wale on the back. That texture? It’s functional. The rib helps wick moisture slightly and gives the fabric a bit of grip against the skin or shell fabric.
Most lining tricots are made from 100% filament polyester, though nylon tricot exists—especially in performance or swim applications. The filament yarn means low pilling, consistent sheen, and a slick hand that slides easily under tailored jackets or structured garments.

Tricot isn’t rigid, but it doesn’t balloon either. Typical recovery is 85–90% after 10% stretch in the cross direction. That small give is what makes it comfortable in waistbands, cuffs, or fitted linings—without distorting the outer fabric.
I’ve seen designers mistake tricot for stretch woven lining and skip seam stabilization. Bad idea. That 10% stretch? It’ll shift during pressing if you’re not careful.
The face feels smooth, almost cool. The back has a soft abrasion from the vertical loops—this actually helps it stay put inside a coat. But if you’re using it in a silky dress lining, that texture can catch on raw edges. Trim seam allowances clean, or consider a bemberg alternative for ultra-smooth interiors.
Common tricot weights range from 20 to 45 gsm.
Fun fact: I once used 45 gsm tricot in a reversible wool coat, thinking it’d add body. It did—but the lining wouldn’t drape with the wool. Ended up softening the seams with steam and trimming every allowance to 1/8″. Not ideal, but salvageable.

Warp knitting is faster and more efficient than weft knitting for narrow, stable fabrics. Machines like the Karl Mayer HKS series use hundreds of guide needles, each feeding a single yarn into the needle bed. The knit moves lengthwise, creating those vertical columns.
Unlike circular knitting, there’s no inherent stretch around the body of the fabric. Stretch only comes from yarn choice (e.g., texturized polyester) or construction tweaks—like adding elastane in every 6th wale.
Most tricot is knitted at 28–32 needles per inch (gauge 28–32), with stitch lengths between 2.8 and 3.4 mm. Shorter stitches = denser fabric = better snag resistance. But go too short, and the fabric loses recovery. It’s a balancing act.
One thing I’ve learned: not all tricot is created equal, even at the same GSM. A tighter stitch with lower-tenacity yarn can feel stiffer than a looser knit with high-tenacity filament. Always request a swatch before bulk.
Tricot shines where durability, light weight, and smoothness matter.
Think bra cups, leotards, bodysuits. The fabric conforms without rolling. I’ve used 25 gsm tricot with micro-elastic yarns (20–30 denier spandex) for seamless bras—it molds but doesn’t dig.
Needle tip: Use a size 60/8 ballpoint or stretch needle. Sharp needles cut the filament. And always test your thread—poly core spun or fine polyester (60/2) works best.
From trench coats to puffer jackets, tricot is a go-to. It resists abrasion from down feathers, slides over sweaters, and holds up to repeated wear.
But here’s a pro note: in puffers, don’t rely on tricot alone to lock down insulation. It’s not a barrier fabric. Pair it with a light silicone coating or use a bonded version if baffle box leakage is a concern.
Nylon tricot is common here—especially 30–40 gsm with 4-way stretch. It wicks, dries fast, and survives chlorine. But beware: chlorine degrades elastane over time. If you’re making swim, look for tricot with Xtra Life Lycra or similar.
I once sourced a 38 gsm nylon tricot from a mill in Taiwan—Pura Fabric carried it for a while—and it lasted 18 months of daily pool use in a competitive swim team’s training suits. That’s rare.

Polyester tricot shrinks 1–2% under high heat. Nylon? Up to 3–4%. That doesn’t sound like much—until your lined jacket’s sleeves come up short.
Always pre-shrink if cutting on the bias or using in fitted garments. Method:
Steam? Use sparingly. Direct high-pressure steam can flatten the texture and set wrinkles permanently.
Tricot pills less than spun yarn knits, but it can pill under friction—especially at sleeve cuffs or seat areas.
Why? Filament yarns don’t shed, but when they abrade, they fibrillate. Tiny loops form, then break, then tangle into pills. It’s mechanical, not chemical.
Prevention:
If pilling occurs, use a fabric shaver—gently. Don’t pull.
Tricot can split at stress points if needles are too large or seams are too tight.
Troubleshooting checklist:
I had a run last year where the side seams of a lined vest kept splitting. Turned out the factory was using a 90/14 needle—way too big. Switched to 70/10, adjusted stitch length, and problem solved.
A designer came to us needing a lining for a double-breasted wool blazer—fashion week deadline, no room for error. She wanted something light but stable, with a whisper of stretch.
Options:
We went with tricot. But here’s where it got messy.
The first sample puckered at the armhole. Not the shell—the lining. After checking seam tension, we realized the issue: the tricot had been cut on-grain, but the armhole curve introduced diagonal tension. The fabric was stretching slightly during sewing.
Solution? We recut the lining with a 5° bias at the armhole, allowing the stretch to follow the curve. Also switched to a 3 mm stitch with 60/2 thread. No more puckering.
Trade-off: the bias cut used 8% more fabric. But the fit was clean, and the client could move naturally. Worth it.
Micro-note: We steamed the seams open with a press cloth—no direct contact. One slip, and the tricot would’ve flattened.
A startup wanted a high-waisted legging with built-in tummy control—no separate shapewear. They needed a fabric that compressed but breathed.
We tested three tricots:
The first lacked control. The second felt like a compression band. The third? Almost perfect—but the gradient caused inconsistent cutting yields.
After three rounds, we landed on a hybrid: 35 gsm with 30D sp性, but engineered with tighter stitches in the front panel. The mill adjusted the cam settings on the warp knitter to vary loop length across the width. Took extra setup time, but the result was balanced compression and comfort.
Decision point: We sacrificed a bit of production speed for wearability. The brand agreed—after users in fit trials said the other two felt “either too loose or like a corset.”
Micro-note: We added a 1/2″ elastic at the top edge. Tricot alone didn’t hold the waistband up during high-motion testing.
Tricot isn’t just “lining fabric.” It’s a precision material—stable, adaptive, and quietly functional. But it demands respect: the right needle, the right stitch, the right judgment. Get it right, and it disappears into the garment. Get it wrong, and it fights you every step. I’ve seen both. Choose thoughtfully.