Tuft (pronounced tuhft)
(1) A bunch or cluster of small, usually soft and
flexible parts, as feathers or hairs, attached or fixed closely together at the
base and loose at the upper ends.
(2) A cluster of short, fluffy threads, used to decorate
cloth, as for a bedspread, robe, bath mat, or window curtain.
(3) A cluster of cut threads, used as a decorative finish
attached to the tying or holding threads of mattresses, quilts, upholstery,
etc.
(4) To furnish or decorate with a tuft or tufts; to
arrange in a tuft or tufts.
(5) In the upholstery trade, to draw together (a cushion
or the like) by passing a thread through at regular intervals, the depressions
thus produced being usually ornamented with tufts or buttons. Tufts are not merely decorative because they secure
and strengthen mattresses, quilts, cushions et al; they act to hinder the movement
of the stuffing.
(6) In botany, a small clump of trees or bushes.
(7) A gold tassel on the cap once worn by titled
undergraduates at English universities, one of the more blatant class
identifiers if the UK’s class system; the word tuft was also applied to those entitled
to wear such as tassel and from this use evolved the slang "toff".
1350-1400: From the Middle English toft & tofte (bunch
of soft and flexible things fixed at the base with the upper ends loose), an
alteration of earlier tuffe (which endures
in the Modern English tuff), from the Old French touffe, tuffe, toffe & tofe
(tuft of hair (and source of the modern French touffe)), from the Late Latin tufa
(a crest on a helmet (also found in Late Greek toupha) and probably of Germanic origin (the Old High German was zopf and the Old Norse was toppr (tuft, summit). The earlier European forms were the Old English
þūf (tuft), the Old Norse þúfa (mound), the Swedish tuva (tussock; grassy hillock), from the
Proto-Germanic þūbǭ (tube) & þūbaz.
It was akin to the Latin tūber
(hump, swelling) and the Ancient Greek τῡ́φη (tū́phē) (cattail (used to stuff beds)). The excrescent t (as in against) was an English
addition and tuft was used as a verb from the 1530s. In some contexts, bunch, cluster, collection,
cowlick, group, knot, plumage, ruff, shock, topknot & tussock can impart a
similar meaning but tuft is better for its specific purpose. Tuft is a noun and verb, tufter is a noun and
tufty an adjective. The noun plural is
tufts, the present participle tufting and the past participle tufted.
The 1550s noun tuffet (little tuft) was from the Old
French touffel (the diminutive suffix
-et replacing the French -el) which
was a diminutive of touffe. In English the word is obsolete except for
the use in the nursery rhyme Little Miss
Muffet which seems to have first appeared in print in 1805 although it (and variations) may have been circulating much earlier.
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
There came a big spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet
away.
Etymologists believe Little
Miss Muffet’s tuffet was a grassy hillock or a small knoll in the ground (a
variant spelling of an obsolete meaning of tuft). The latter-day use to refer to a hassock or footstool
is an example of how (usually obscure) words can acquire meanings if erroneous
definitions are often repeated and come to serve some purpose. Tuffet for example became a favorite of
antique dealers who are apt to call both footstools and low seats “tuffets”, a
handy practice perhaps when provenance is doubtful.
The noun toff began
as mid nineteenth century lower-class London slang for "a stylish dresser,
a man of the smart set. It was an alteration
of tuft, which was a mid-eighteenth century English university (Oxford &
Cambridge) term for students who were members of the aristocracy, a reference
to the gold ornamental tassel (or tufts) worn on the academic caps (mortarboards) of
undergraduates. Throughout
the “long eighteenth century” (a historian’s term which refers for the epoch running
from the Glorious Revolution of 1688 to the Congress of Vienna in 1815 (the “long
nineteenth” being 1815-1914 and the “long twentieth” 1914-2001 (ie 9/11))), undergraduates
at both Oxford and Cambridge were differentiated into four classes: (1)
noblemen, (2) gentlemen, (3) commoner-scholars (fellow-commoners at Cambridge)
& (4) servitors (sometimes known at Cambridge as sizars and at Oxford as
battelers). Each of these classes of
undergraduates was entitled to a different form of dress, noblemen since 1490 (further
clarified in 1576) entitled to wear silk and brocaded gowns of bright
colors. Such rich materials emphasized noble status, as did the costly dyes.
The gowns had flap collars, Tudor bag sleeves with gold lace decorations (akin
to the black lace decorations used today on Oxford gimp gowns) and a velvet
round cap with a gold tassel (or tuft) was worn. Noblemen were technically (if misleadingly) nobiles minorum gentium and included the
sons of bishops, knights and baronets and, by resolution of Convocation, could
include heirs of esquires.
The right to wear the golden tuft was briefly restricted to those with fathers entitled to sit in the House of Lords while those less blue-blooded were allowed only to a plain black tassel but things gradually became less exclusive until the practice was abandoned in the late nineteenth century but the transfer of sense was inevitable: wearers of golden tufts came to be known as tufts. Those toadies or sycophants (and there were many) who were slavish followers of the tufts were tufthunters and their antics, tufthunting, such individuals and their habits quite identifiable to this day. By the 1850s, under the influence of the cockney accent, the word had been transformed into toff (some dictionaries of slang noting toft co-existed in the 1850s but this may have been a mishearing) which endures to refer to anyone rich and powerful although the original sense was of someone apparently well-bred.
1912 Stutz Bear Cat (1912-1934); after 1913 they would be dubbed Bearcat (left) and 1915 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost (Chassis 2BD, 40/50; 1906-1926) limousine by H.A. Hamshaw (right).
One of the fastest and most admired American cars of the early era, the Stutz Bearcat assumed such a place in popular culture, apocryphally it was was claimed that should anyone die at the wheel of a Stutz Bearcat, they were granted an obituary in the New York Times (NYT). The origin of the romantic myth is thought to be related to the Bearcat being a symbol of wealth, adventure, and daring, owned by the sort of chaps (such a lifestyle at the time was most associated with men although women adventurers were not unknown) who would likely anyway warrant an NYT obituary. The Bear Cat's tufted leather upholstery was typical (though not universal) of the high priced automobiles of the time although already, elaborate fabrics were appearing in vehicles with enclosed passenger compartments which afforded protection from the elements. The appointments of 1915 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost were opulent even by the coachbuilding standards of the day (the Edwardian traditions still maintained) but the chauffeur's compartment lacked a roof (the body style really a Sedanca de Ville as were many of the early English "limousines") so was still trimmed in tufted leather. The more sheltered passengers enjoyed carved ivory door handles, beveled glass windows, cut crystal lamps, an inlaid wood folding table, two jump seats, and door pockets, communications to the chauffeur via a tubular intercom. The lavish upholstery in the rear was tufted, beige West-of-England cloth with embroidered silk window pulls and trim-work, including rear compartment shades and sliding divider although what usually attracts most comment is the elegant, pleated, cloth rosette headliner with its cloudlike billows. To make journeys more pleasant, a set of leather-wrapped flasks was mounted in the right rear armrest.
Tufted leather upholstery was common in early automobiles, the seating often exactly the same as those used in horse-drawn carriages, houses or commercial buildings (and certainly gentlemen's clubs). The practice faded as production volumes increased and as early as the late 1920s was coming to be restricted to only the most expensive models. This exclusivity tended to prevail until 1972 when Oldsmobile introduced the Regency option for its full-sized Ninety-Eight (sometimes as "98") models, a package, the visual highlight of which was tufted "loose-pillow" velour upholstery (although unlike the use in furniture where the "pillows" were detachable for cleaning, in the Ninety-Eight they were fixed permanently to the seats. Suddenly, solidly middle-class Oldsmobile (right in the middle of General Motors’ (GM) five-step (Chevrolet-Pontiac-Oldsmobile-Buick-Cadillac) hierarchy; the so-called "Slone ladder" designed to both facilitate and encourage "upward automotive mobility" conceived by Alfred P Sloan (1875–1966; president of General Motors (GM) 1923-1937 and Chairman of the Board 1937-1946)) had brought both velour and loose-pillow seating to the masses. The velour was at the time admired by most buyers (though derided by some critics of design) and as tufted upholstery began to proliferate in the industry it was usually offered as a cheaper alternative to leather. In some climates the velour was probably the better choice and was welcomingly comfortable although in some of the more strident shades of red could recall the popular idea of how a bordello might be furnished. Presumably, those who'd never enjoyed a visit to a bordello were more disconcerted than regular customers.
1974 Imperial LeBaron four-door hardtop (left) in chestnut tufted leather though not actually “fine Corinthian leather” which was (mostly) exclusive to the Cordoba (1975-1983) until late 1975 when not only did the Imperial's brochures mention "genuine Corinthian leather (available at extra cost)" but for the first time since 1954 the range was referred to as the "Chrysler Imperial", a harbinger the brand was about to be retired. Imperial's advertising copy noted of the brochure photograph above: “...while the passenger restraint system with starter interlock is not shown, it is standard on all Imperials.”; the marketing types didn't like seat-belts messing up their photos. While all of the big three (GM, Ford & Chrysler) had tufted interiors in some lines, it was Chrysler which displayed the most commitment to the motif.
Oldsmobile's move was as audacious and influential as Ford’s introduction in 1965 of the up-market LTD which, like the Regency package, had the effect of cannibalizing sales from other divisions within the same corporation. Cadillac, although with a range priced considerably above Oldsmobile, offered nothing with such an ostentatious interior though when it did in 1974 respond with its Talisman package (1974-1976), it made sure it did so with more tufted extravagance still, in 1974 offering leather as well as velour. The trend the Regency package started would last over twenty years and is remembered especially for the tufted fittings used in Imperials, Chryslers and Dodges, the hides used in the Cordoba range (1975-1983) said to be "fine Corinthian leather", an advertising agency creation which meant nothing in particular but sounded vaguely European and therefore expensive. Cadillac called the fabric in the Fleetwood Talisman "Medici crushed velour" which had about the same relationship to historic truth as "fine Corinthian leather" but the package sold well over the three seasons it was offered, despite the option costing almost as much (and the leather significantly more) as some new cars. Among collectors, the holy grail is a 1974 Fleetwood Talisman trimmed in blue leather; although it was on the option list, none has ever been sighted and the factory's records don't breakdown production between the blue and the alternative "medium saddle" (a medium tan), some of which have been verified.
1985 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz (left), 1977 Chrysler New Yorker Brougham (centre) and 1989 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham d' Elegance (right). Color choice made a big difference to the perception of the "tufted look", more subdued hues like green and blue less confronting than the "bordello red" which became emblematic of the industry's phase.
Lindsay Lohan in bed with tufted bedhead. Critics of interior design tend not to approve of padded or tufted headboards and the shinier or more pillowy the effect, the greater will be the disparagement. Such critics probably tend to prefer a minimalist aesthetic and condemn anything which doesn’t conform as outdated, excessive or just in poor taste but that aside, there are practical reasons to avoid the padding because the material can over time collect dust, dirt, and oils, something of concern to allergy sufferers. The designs can also provide hiding places for the dreaded bed bugs. Still, there are some who like the “generic luxury hotel room” look and argue they’re a kind of safety feature, banging one’s head on some tufted padding a less troubling event than an impact with one of Ikea’s hard, flat surfaces.
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