Svelte

Svelte (pronounced svelt or sfelt)

(1) Slender, especially gracefully slender in figure; lithe.

(2) Suave, urbane elegant, sophisticated.

1817: Originally (and briefly) spelled svelt, from the seventeen century French svelte (slim, slender), from the Italian svelto (slim, slender (originally "pulled out, lengthened)), past participle of svellere (to pluck out or root out), from the Vulgar Latin exvellere (exvellitus), the construct being from ex + vellere (to pluck, stretch) + -tus (the past participle suffix).  The ex- prefix was from the Middle English, from words borrowed from the Middle French, from the Latin ex (out of, from), from the primitive Indo-European eǵ- & eǵs- (out).  It was cognate with the Ancient Greek ἐξ (ex) (out of, from), the Transalpine Gaulish ex- (out), the Old Irish ess- (out), the Old Church Slavonic изъ (izŭ) (out) & the Russian из (iz) (from, out of).  The “x” in “ex-“, sometimes is elided before certain constants, reduced to e- (eg ejaculate).  The Latin vellere (which English picked up as a learned borrowing) was the present active infinitive of vellō (I pluck out; I depilate; I pull or tear down), from the Proto-Italic welnō, from the primitive Indo-European wel-no-, a suffixed form of uelh- (to strike), source also of the Hittite ualh- (to hit, strike) and the Greek aliskomai (to be caught).  The Latin suffix –tus was from the Proto-Italic -tos, from the primitive Indo-European -tós (the suffix creating verbal adjectives) and may be compared to the Proto-Slavic –tъ and Proto-Germanic –daz & -taz.  It was used to form the past participle of verbs and adjectives having the sense "provided with".  Latin scholars caution the correct use of the –tus suffix is technically demanding with a myriad of rules to be followed and, in use, even the pronunciation used in Ecclesiastical Latin could vary.  Svelte is an adjective and svelteness is a noun; the comparative is svelter and the superlative sveltest although in practice both are rare and constructions (however unhappy) such as very svelte, most svelte are more common.  Thankfully, sveltesque & sveltish seem not to exist and if they do, they shouldn’t.

Svelte: Lindsay Lohan, Olympus Fashion Week, Bryant Park, Manhattan, February 2006.

Because svelte is intended as a compliment to be extended in admiration, the true synonyms include refined, delicate, graceful, lithe, slender, lean, lissom, slinky, slim, elegant, willowy, waif & sylph-like.  Although can equally (and technically correctly) apply to the same image, words like thin, scrawny and skinny can be used with a negative connotation.  Interestingly, in some Nordic languages, the word has the sense of variations of “thin, hunger, starvation” and is used of a two player card game in which the goal is to "starve" the opponent of all their cards.  Svelte is a word usually applied to people, most often women; while men can be called svelte, most would probably prefer another label.  However, it’s a descriptor which references the slender and the elegant so can be used anthropomorphically and there have been cars which have gone from frumpy to svelte:

The Pontiac Grand Prix: The first generation (1962–1964) (left), the second generation (1965–1968) (centre) and the third generation (1969–1972) (right).

The first Pontiac Grand Prix was among the outstanding designs which emerged from the General Motors (GM) styling studios in the 1960s, truly the corporation's golden era.  The first was built on a full-sized platform and was thus undeniably large but such was the competence of the styling team that the bulk was well-disguised and unless the are other objects in the frame to provide a point of reference, at first glance the sheer size of the thing is not obvious.  Its rather bulbous replacement fares not so well but Pontiac were aware the universe was shifting, their own smaller GTO and the emerging ecosystem of pony cars attracting the buyers wanting high performance while the full-size machines were beginning their path towards increasingly cosseted luxury.  Other full-sized machines however looked better while doing what the Grand Prix did and sales of the second generation weren’t encouraging.  Pontiac changed tack for 1969 and in the third generation produced another classic, a smaller car which relied not on gimmicks or embellishments but simple lines, the long hood working because it was the sole extravagance and one perfectly balanced by what would otherwise have seemed an excessively large C pillar.  It was a high-water mark for Pontiac.

Continentals: the Mark II (1956-1957) (left) and the Lincolns, the Mark III-V (1958-1960) (centre) and the fourth generation (1961-1969) (right).

Wanting to create a landmark in style which was as much a reaction to the excesses of the era as it was a homage to mid-century modernism, Ford actually created a separate division to produce the Continental Mark II and in its very sparseness the look succeeded but the realities of production-line economics doomed the project which lasted only two years.  Seemingly having decided that good taste didn’t sell, the Continental nameplate returned to the Lincoln line in 1958 and the Mark III-V models were big, some 227 inches (5.8 m) in length and weighing in at 2 ½ tons (2540 kg) or more.  Indisputably flamboyant with an intricate grille atop chrome dagmars, canted headlights partially encapsulated in semi-closed ovoid apertures and embellished with chrome spears & sweeping cove embossments, the only restraint seemed to be the surprisingly demure fins but with those Ford never succumbed to the lure of the macropterous which made so distinctive the cars from Chrysler and GM during the era.  Even at the time criticized as too big, too heavy and too bloated, the styling nevertheless represented one of the (several) logical conclusions of the trends which had for a decade been evolving but it too was a failure, lasting only three seasons.  After this there was nowhere to go but somewhere else.  In 1961 Lincoln went there, creating a classic shape which would remain in production, substantially unchanged until 1969.  Remembered now for being the car in which President Kennedy was shot, for the suicide doors, and the soon to be unique four-door convertible coachwork, it was a masterpiece of modern industrial design which managed to combine severe lines without any harshness in the shape and was influential, other manufacturers essentially borrowing the motif although none did it better than the original.  Managing the almost impossible, to be big yet svelte, Lincoln in the six decades since produced nothing as good and much that was worse.

The Mark IX was the final iteration of a decade-long line (the Mark VII, VIII & IX, 1951-1961) with a competition history which belied the stately appearance (left) while the Jaguar Mark X (1961-1970 and named 420G after 1967) never realized its potential because the factory refused to fit the Daimler V8 and its own V12 wasn’t ready until after production ended (centre) and the XJ (1968-1986) which, especially when fitted with the V12, may have been the best car in the world (right).

Svelte can be a relative term.  Although the Jaguar Mark X was soon criticized as being too big and bloated, upon release in 1961 it was thought sleek and modern because the car it replaced was stylistically something of an upright relic with its lines so obviously owing much to the pre-war era.  That warmth of feeling soon passed and it was too big (especially the width) for the home market while in the US where it could have been a great success if fitted with a V8 and air-conditioning as good as a Cadillac, it was neglected because the superior quality of the brakes and suspension meant little under US conditions.  The styling however did however provide a model for the slimmed-down XJ, released to acclaim in 1968 and greater adulation still when the V12 arrived in 1972.  The svelte lines aged well, especially on the short-lived two-door, and looked elegant still in 1986 when replaced.  However, the shape meant the hunter became captured by the game, Jaguar reprising the lines until 2009 although none matched the purity of the original.  The 420G was the last of the "big" Jags.

Dodge Chargers: 1966 (left) and 1968 (right).

The 1966 Charger featured one of the best interiors of the era, including a full-length centre console and rear-seats with a thoughtful design which folded flat, providing a usefully large storage area.  The highlight however was probably the dashboard featuring Chrysler’s intriguing electroluminescent instruments which, rather than being lit with bulbs, deployed a phenomenon in which a material emits light in response to an electric field; the ethereal glow much admired.  Inside was however the best place to be because it meant one didn’t have to look at the thing; it was chunky and slab-sided and while it could be said another fastback of the time (the truly ghastly Rambler (later AMC) Marlin) was worse, that really was damming with faint praise.  Still, on the NASCAR ovals the shape proved surprisingly slippery and when paired with Chrysler’s Hemi V8, it proved a trophy winner.  The welcome restyle of 1968 was transformative and seldom has there been such an overnight improvement.  Ironically though, the svelte lines proved not especially aerodynamic and on the racetrack, the sleek-looking Charger suffered in a way its frumpy predecessor had not, the stylishly recessed grill and the tunnel-effect used around the rear window compromising the aerodynamics and therefore the speed.  It took Dodge two attempts to solve the problem: The Charger 500 flattened both the grill and the rear windows but the instability remained so engineers (conveniently available from Chrysler’s recently shuttered missile division) fashioned a radical nosecone and a high rear wing which served well for the two seasons the modifications were permitted to be homologated for use on the Dodge Daytona in competition.  Ford suffered a similar fate in 1970: the new Torino looked better but the 1969 shape proved more efficient so the racers stuck with last year’s model until a solution was found.