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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 sleek, slightly shiny ribbed fabric you keep seeing on mid-century modern ottomans and tailored blazers? Chances are, it’s Ottoman—and it’s not just a pretty texture. It’s a workhorse textile with a backstory, but it can be a pain if you don’t know how to handle it right.

Ottoman fabric is defined by its pronounced, raised ribs running lengthwise—like tiny parallel cords. That ribbed structure isn’t just decorative; it’s structural, born from a specific weave or knit technique that alternates thick and thin yarns. The result? A fabric that’s dense, durable, and surprisingly resilient under wear and tear.
It’s not a fiber—it’s a construction. So when someone says “Ottoman,” they’re talking about the texture, not the material. Originally made from silk (hence the luster), today’s Ottoman blends everything from cotton and viscose to polyester and spandex. That versatility is why it’s still relevant in both fashion and home decor.
I once used a 100% cotton Ottoman for a client’s living room bench, thinking it would age gracefully. It did—but after six months, the ribs started flattening under daily use. Lesson learned: cotton Ottomans look beautiful but need reinforcement for high-traffic areas.

The name isn’t just exotic branding—it’s historical. Ottoman fabric traces back to the Ottoman Empire, where Turkish weavers developed the ribbed weave and introduced it to Europe in the 18th century. Europeans, dazzled by the luxurious texture, named it after the empire itself.
And yes, the furniture piece—the padded, backless seat—also got its name from the fabric. Early ottomans were literally covered in Ottoman fabric. The term stuck, even as the furniture evolved.
Funny thing: I’ve had clients ask if “Ottoman fabric” comes from a specific brand. It doesn’t. It’s a legacy textile, one that’s been quietly shaping interiors and wardrobes for centuries.

This fabric is rooted in Turkish weaving traditions, where artisans mastered the balance of tight warp threads and heavier weft yarns to create those signature crosswise ribs. The original versions used silk over a cotton base, giving a lustrous yet sturdy finish—ideal for upholstery in palaces and caravanserais.
The rib size varies—some are fine and subtle, others bold and sculptural. That variation isn’t random; it depends on the yarn weight and sett (threads per inch). A wider rib usually means a heavier weft yarn, which adds bulk but reduces drape.
For home decor, I prefer medium-rib Ottomans—they catch light beautifully without feeling too rigid. Too wide, and the fabric starts to look like pleather. Too narrow, and it loses its character.

Ottoman can be made from almost any fiber, but the composition directly affects performance. Here’s a quick breakdown:
Blends are where Ottoman really shines. A common blend—45% viscose, 45% polyester, 10% spandex—gives you luster, strength, and stretch. I’ve used this combo for slipcovers, and it holds up better than pure cotton, especially on curved furniture.
At Pura Fabric, we stock several Ottoman blends in the 240–280 GSM range—thick enough for durability, light enough to drape over corners without bulk.
Ottoman can be woven or knitted, but the effect is the same: raised ribs formed by alternating yarn tension.
In woven Ottoman, the weft (filling) yarns are heavier than the warp, creating a corded effect when the fabric is finished. The weave is tight—often over 100 picks per inch—which adds to its durability.
In knitted Ottoman, the ribbing comes from a specialized interlock or tuck stitch. The result is more flexible, with better stretch and recovery. Knit Ottomans are often used in apparel, but they work for low-traffic furniture too.
One thing most people don’t realize: Ottoman doesn’t fray much, but it can slip at the seams under tension. I learned this the hard way when a bench cushion cover started pulling at the corners. The fix? Narrower seam allowances (½” instead of ⅝”) and a twin needle for reinforcement.

Knitted Ottoman is made on circular or flatbed machines using a combination of jersey and tuck stitches. The tuck stitches pull the yarn tighter in certain rows, creating the raised ribs.
Key technical points:
I once pressed a viscose-polyester Ottoman with too hot an iron. The polyester melted slightly, flattening the ribs. Now I always use a press cloth and medium heat, even on “iron-safe” blends.

Ottoman isn’t one fabric—it’s a family. The variation depends on fiber, weight, and construction:
I worked on a hotel lounge project where the designer wanted a luxurious look but needed durability. We tested three Ottomans: one cotton, one viscose-polyester, and one with spandex. The spandex blend won—not because it was the fanciest, but because it recovered after guests leaned on it all day.
Micro-note: Some Ottomans have a slight horizontal ridge from the knitting process. It’s not a defect—it’s part of the texture.

Let’s cut through the marketing fluff. Here’s what Ottoman actually does—and doesn’t—do:
One thing I’ve noticed: Ottoman doesn’t hide stains as well as plain weaves. The ribs can trap dust and oils. For homes with kids or pets, I recommend darker colors or treated finishes.

Three traits keep Ottoman relevant:
I used a charcoal-gray Ottoman on a modular sofa for a small apartment. The texture broke up the mass of the piece, and the sheen made the room feel brighter. Clients loved it—but they vacuum it weekly to keep the ribs clean.
Ottoman isn’t just for furniture. It’s a multitasker:
For slipcovers, I prefer knit Ottoman with at least 6% spandex. It hugs curves better and doesn’t require darts or pleats.
Case Study: A designer once asked me to cover a round ottoman with a seamless wrap. Woven fabric would’ve needed seams, so we went with a 270 GSM knit Ottoman (47% cotton, 47% viscose, 6% spandex). We used a serger with woolly nylon in the looper—gave it stretch and durability. Result? One clean, continuous cover that’s lasted three years with minimal wear.
Micro-note: Ottoman trim on plain cushions adds instant polish. Just 1” piping can elevate a basic pillow.

Ottoman is low-maintenance, but not no-maintenance.
I’ve seen Ottoman covers ruined by dry cleaning solvents that degraded the spandex. If in doubt, hand wash.
It’s a double-knit fabric with alternating tuck and jersey stitches, creating a pronounced horizontal rib. The effect is stretchy, durable, and great for fitted furniture covers or sweatshirts. At Pura Fabric, we carry several Ottoman rib knits in 260–280 GSM—ideal for both home and apparel use.
These are Ottomans with woven-in motifs, often using metallic or contrasting yarns. They’re bolder, more decorative—perfect for statement pieces. But be careful: the pattern can distort on curved surfaces.
Not exactly. It’s a construction method. Think of it like “herringbone” or “twill”—a way of weaving or knitting, not a fiber. So you can have cotton Ottoman, polyester Ottoman, or a blend. The fiber choice changes the feel and function.
Originally, for durability. The tight weave and ribbed structure made it resistant to abrasion—perfect for horse saddles and carriage interiors. Today, that same strength makes it ideal for high-use furniture. It’s not just about looks; it’s about lasting.
Ottoman jersey is a knitted version with a ribbed surface, usually lighter than woven Ottoman. It drapes better, making it suitable for skirts, dresses, or soft furnishings. I’ve used it for lined valances—it holds shape without stiffness.
Many mills produce Ottoman, but quality varies. Some focus on apparel weight, others on upholstery. The mill we work with specializes in mid-to-heavyweight knits with consistent rib formation. We test every batch for shrinkage (max 3%) and colorfastness before listing.
Because the ribs look like cords. “Corded fabric” is a broader term—pincord, bedford cord, and Ottoman all fall under it. But not all corded fabrics are Ottomans. Ottoman has a specific, wider rib and is usually softer.
Mostly, yes. But consider:
If you’re making a kids’ playroom bench, go for a polyester-spandex blend. For a formal living room, maybe a cotton-viscose for that softer hand.
Ottoman fabric is one of those quiet classics—unflashy but endlessly functional. It’s not the softest, not the drape-iest, but it holds its ground. When you need something that looks tailored and lasts, Ottoman’s worth the extra thought in selection and care. Just don’t treat it like a basic cotton—it’s got its own rhythm. Learn it, and it’ll serve you well.