Demimonde

Demimonde (pronounced dem-ee-mond or duh-mee-mawnd (French))

(1) That class of women existing beyond or on the margins of respectable society because of their indiscreet behavior or sexual promiscuity; typically they were mistresses but not courtesans and certainly not prostitutes (classic meaning from the mid-late nineteenth century).

(2) A group, the activities of which are ethically or legally questionable (later use).

(3) Any social group considered to be not wholly respectable (though vested sometimes with a certain edgy glamour).

(4) By extension, a member of such a class or group of persons.

1850–1855: From the French demi-monde, the construct being demi- (half) + monde (world (in the sense of “people”)), thus literally “half world” and translatable as something like “those really not ‘one of us’”.  It may have been coined by the French author and playwright Alexandre Dumas (1802-1870) but certainly was popularized in his comedic play, Le Demi Monde (1855).  The hyphenated original from French (demi-monde) is sometimes used in English.  Demimonde is a noun; the noun plural is demimondes.

In English, demi dates from the mid-1300 and was from the Middle English demi (half, half-sized, partial), from the twelfth century Anglo-Norman demi (half), from the Vulgar Latin dimedius, from the Classical Latin dīmidius, the construct being dis- (apart; in two) + medius (middle).  The French demi (which English borrowed) was a combining form which existed as noun, adjective, and adverb.  The French monde was from the twelfth century Old French monde, a semi-learned form of the tenth century mont (etymologists trace the alteration to ensure the word was distinct from the unrelated mont (mountain)), from the Latin mundus which could mean (1) clean, pure; neat, nice, fine, elegant, sophisticated, decorated, adorned or (2) universe, world (especially the heavens and heavenly bodies with the sense “universe” being a calque of the Ancient Greek κόσμος (kósmos)).or mankind (as in "inhabitants of the earth").  In Medieval Latin it was used also the mean "century" and "group of people".  The Latin mundus may have been from the Etruscan munθ (order, kit, ornament) or the primitive Indo-European mhnd- (to adorn) which was cognate with the Old High German mandag (joyful, happy; dashing).  As well as the historically pejorative sense in demimonde, “demi” appeared in other loanwords from French meaning “half”  including demilunes (in the shape of a half-moon (semi-circular)) and demitasse (a small coffee cup of the type associated with the short black) and, on that model, is also prefixed to words of English origin (eg demigod).

Treading Water Perfume's Demimonde.  The Trending Water brand is described as “queer-owned” and the products are “hand crafted”.

Similar forms in French included beau monde (literally “beautiful world”, the plural being beaux mondes) which meant “the fashionable part of society” (ie the “beautiful people”) and demi-mondaine (plural demimondaines) which was used in a variety of ways ranging from “women of equivocal reputation and standing in society” to “a sexually promiscuous woman” (ie, one of the demimonde).  Of lifestyles in some way disreputable (or at least unconventional), the terms “bohemian” and “demimonde” are often used although if one is to acknowledge the history of use, they should be differentiated despite both being associated with non-conformity.  Bohemianiam is best used of artistic and intellectual milieus where there’s a pursuit of the non-orthodox and often a rejection of societal norms (or they are at least ignored).  Demimonde, reflecting the specific origin as describing a social class of women financially able to sustain a lifestyle deemed morally dubious, retains to this day the hint of something disreputable although with the decline in the observation of such things, this is now more nuanced.  The gradual distancing of the word from its origins in the intricacies of defining the sexual morality of nineteenth century French women meant it became available to all and in her politely received novel The Last Thing He Wanted (1996), Joan Didion (1934-2021) explored the murky world of the back-channel deals in politics as it is practiced, a demimonde in which individuals are “trying to create a context for democracy” but may be “getting [their] hands a little dirty in the process.”

The Canyons (2013), Lindsay Lohan's demimonde film.

It was Alexandre Dumas’ play Le Demi Monde (1855) which popularized the use but in earlier works, notably La Dame aux Camélias (1848), the character of the demi-mondaine is identifiable although in that work the doomed protagonist is more of a courtesan whereas as used during the second half of the century, the term really wasn’t applied to that class and was most associated with women on the margins of “respectable society” who lived lavishly thanks to wealthy patrons; subtly different from a courtesan.  The literal translation “half-world” implied an existence halfway between the “proper" world and that of the disreputable and that was the sense in the late Victorian era of the Belle Époque era: glamorous but morally ambiguous women, living on the margins of high society in a state of the tolerably scandalous.  Social mores and moral codes are of course fluid and in the first half of the twentieth century the meaning shifted to encompass some other marginalized or shadowy subcultures and ones which encompassed not only women and the association was no longer of necessity associated with sexual conduct.  Thus bohemian artists, the underground nightlife, those who live by gambling and later the counter-cultural movements all came to be described as demimonde.  What that meant was these was less of a meaning shift than an expansion, the word now applied to many groups existing in some way not wholly outside the mainstream but neither entirely in conformity.  There were thus many demimondes and that use persists to this day although the air of the glamorous depicted by Dumas is now often absent, some demimondes distinctly squalid and definitely disreputable.

By the late nineteenth century the notion of the demimonde had attracted the avant-garde and non-conformists, their circles of artists, writers and intellectuals in their own way vested with the edgy glamour of the type attached to the salons the well-kept mistresses conducted in parallel with those of the establishment ladies and it’s easy to draw parallels with Andy Warhol’s (1928–1987) Factory in the 1960s which was a magnet for New York’s non-mainstream “creatives” as well as the flotsam and jetsam of the art schools.  Sometimes too, there are echos, the demimonde of Berlin after the fall of the wall (1989) drawing comparisons with that described in the city during the last years the Weimar Republic (1918-1933).  So, the track of demimonde has been (1) mistresses, and women not quite respectable but with funds enough to defy conventions (nineteenth century), (2) the more subversive of the avant-garde added (early twentieth century), (3) bohemian subcultures, various “underground” scenes (mid-late twentieth century) and (4) reflecting the implication of post-modernity, anyone who likes the label.

Sarah Bernhardt (1876), oil on canvas by Georges Clairin (1843-1919).

The Parisian Belle Époque (beautiful era) was the time between the late 1800s and the outbreak of World War I (1914-1918).  For more than a century the period has been celebrated (accurately and not) in art and literature, the great paintings mush sought by collectors.  The Belle Époque is considered still one of Europe’s “golden ages” and although its charms would have escaped most of the working population, for the fortunate few it was a time of vitality and optimism and in some ways modernity’s finest hour until ended by the blast of war.  One trend was the way the cultural hegemony of the private salons of the networks of artists, aristocrats and intellectuals lost some its hold as discourse shifted to the more public (and publicized) realm of the stage, cabriolets and cafés, lending a new theatricality to society life and an essential part was the demimonde, those who operated in the swirling milieu yet were not quite an accepted part of it, their flouting of traditional mores and bourgeois politeness perhaps a little envied but not obviously embraced.  While it could be said to include drug-takers, gamblers and such, the classic exemplar in the spirit of Dumas’ demimonde was the demimondaine, those thrusting women who maintained their elevated (if not respectable) position by parlaying their attractiveness and availability to men willing to pay for the experience.  It usually wasn’t concubinage and certainly not prostitution (as understood) but it was clear les demimondaines belonged with the bohemians and artists of the avant-garde and they were known also as les grandes horizontals or mademoiselles les cocottes (hens) among other euphemisms but for youth and beauty much is tolerated if not forgiven and in all but the inner sanctums of the establishment, mostly there was peaceful co-existence.  Among the demimondaines were many actresses and dancers, a talent to entertain meaning transgressions might be overlooked or at least not much dwelt upon.  Sarah Bernhardt (1844–1923) benefited from that and her nickname monstre sacré (sacred monster) was gained by her enjoying a status which proved protective despite her life of ongoing controversy.  The Irish writer Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) also found a niche as an amusing proto-celebrity with a good stock of one-liners and being part of the demimonde of the not quite respectable was integral to the appeal although being convicted of the abominable crime of buggery proved social suicide. 

Marthe de Florian (1898), oil on canvas by Italian-born society portraitist Giovanni Boldini (1842–1931).  The painter’s style of brushwork saw him dubbed le maître du swish (the master of swish) and he was another of Mademoiselle de Florian’s many lovers.

What tends now to be forgotten is that among the demimonde it was only figures like Bernhardt and Wilde who were well known outside of society gossip.  The once obscure Marthe de Florian (1864–1939) joined the “half worlders” by being, inter-alia, the one-time lover of four subsequent prime ministers of France (a reasonable achievement even given the churn rate in the office) although she took the name she adopted from a banker; nothing really matters except money.  When the details of her life emerged, they inspired the novel A Paris Apartment (2014) by US author Michelle Gable (b 1974), a theme of which was une demimondaine could be distinguished from a common prostitute because the former included (at least as a prelude) romance with the le grande acte (acts of intimacy) and ultimately some financial consideration.  That seems not a small difference and unlike the transactional prostitute, the implication was that to succeed in their specialized profession (debatably a calling), a demimondaine needed the skills associated with the Quai d'Orsay: tact, diplomacy, finesse, daring, low cunning and high charm.  It needed also devotion to the task because for Mlle de Florian to get where she did, she inspired “some three duels, an attempted suicide and at least one déniaisé (sexual initiation) of one lover’s eldest son”.

Quondam

Quondam (pronounced kwon-duhm or kwon-dam)

(1) As a pronominal, former; one-time; having been formerly.

(2) As a pronominal, of an earlier time.

1580s: An adaptation of the earlier (1530-1550) from earlier use as an adverb (formerly) and noun (former holder of an office, title or position), from the Latin adverb quondam (formerly, at some time, at one time; once in a while) the construct being quom, cum (when, as), from the primitive Indo-European root kwo- (stem of relative and interrogative pronouns) + -dam (the demonstrative ending).  Quondam is an adjective, quondamship is a noun and quondamly is an adverb; the noun quondam is now archaic but can be used in the sense of “one’s ex” and if one is prolific in the generation of quondamship, the noun plural is quondams.  According to one severe critic on Urban Dictionary, “quondamness” is defined as “A thesaurus full of imaginary yet important sounding words that shoddy authors use in order to find strange obscure or even imaginary words to use in their stories, in the hopes of sounding more intelligent than they will ever be.” 

For a simple concept ("used to be"), quondam enjoys an impressive number of synonyms including former, previous, erstwhile, old, one-time, past, late, once, whilom, sometime, defunct, bygone, vanished, gone, departed, extinct and expired.  Some (extinct, expired, defunct) have specific technical meanings which limit their use while others (late, departed, gone) are most associated with the dead but otherwise quondam is available as a way of enriching a text.  In informal use, quondam has been used as a noun in the sense of one's ex-partner being “a quondam” and, as a re-purposed literary word, it has been adapted to the social media age with helpful, non-standard forms coined:

Quondam: One's ex-partner.

Quondaming: The act of dumping a partner.

Quondamed: The act of being so dumped.

Quaondamer: One who dumps a partner (in the form “serial quondamer”, applied to those who frequently dump).

Quondamee: One who has been quonadmed by a quandamer (in the form “serial quondamee”, applied to those frequently dumped).

Quondamish: An act which can be interpreted as being dumped but requires confirmation.

Quondamesque: Behavior which suggests having been dumped.

Quondamism: The study of dumped ex-partners (a branch of behaviorism).

Quondamist: A practitioner of quondamism (employed often by internet gossip sites) who can distinguish between genuine quondamees and those exhibiting quondam-like characteristics.  The experts have developed predictive models which they apply to work out who is next to be quondamed.

A quondam atheist who changed his mind: The Rage Against God: How Atheism Led Me to Faith (2010) by Peter Hitchens.

As a pronominal, writers like to use somewhat obscure quondam when drawing attention to those who were once “something” have for whatever reason become “something else”.  There are quondam atheists who became Christians including the (1) British academic & writer CS Lewis (1898–1963) who seems most to have be influenced in his conversion by JRR Tolkien (1892–1973), the US journalist Lee Strobel (b 1952) who set out to disprove Christianity after his wife converted, but the hunter ended up captured by the game, becoming a Christian, (3) the Physician-geneticist Francis Collins (b 1950) who lead the Human Genome Project and was either atheist or agnostic during his early scientific career but became affected by his encounters with expressions of faith among his patients although reading CS Lewis seems also have had a profound effect, (4) the writer Peter Hitchens (b 1951) who was a most truculent militant atheist (more so even than his brother Christopher) but returned to the faith of his youth after a period of personal reflection (which soon he’d call “soul-searching”) and witnessing “the consequences of godlessness” (although he writes for the tabloid Mail on Sunday which can’t be good for the soul), (5) the writer and broadcaster Malcolm Muggeridge (1903–1990) who as well as being quondam atheist was also quondam Marxist (a common coupling) and, like a 40-a-day smoker who has kicked the habit, having had his fun, he became a most moralistic Christian and (6) TS Eliot (1888–1965) who probably never was a quondam atheist but certainly had his moments of doubt so may qualify as an (off & on) quondam agnostic until his thirties and some of his later poetry does suggest he was keeping to a Godly path.

In political science there was a whole school of quondam communists of the “God that Failed” school, often arrayed in lists by conservatives anxious to rub in the “I told you so” moment.  The favorites though are the quondam Trotskyites (“Trots” to friend & foe alike) and while variously they’ve swung to some to conservatism, liberalism, nationalism or even God, it’s remarkable how many include the term “ex-Trotskyist” in their biodata, there being something romantic about comrade Leon Trotsky (1879-1940) and his Fourth International not shared by either comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) who ordered his murder or Karl Marx (1818-1883) although the latter should be treated sympathetically because of his many troubles including constipation (measured in days) but by far the greatest distraction must have been the painful genital boils.  In April 1867, in one of the many letters he sent to his collaborator Friedrich Engels (1820–1895), he lamented: “I shan’t bore you by explaining [the] carbuncles on my posterior and near the penis, the final traces of which are now fading but which made it extremely painful for me to adopt a sitting and hence a writing posture. I am not taking arsenic because it dulls my mind too much and I need to keep my wits about me.”

The Revolution Betrayed: What is the Soviet Union and Where is it Going? (1937) by Leon Trotsky.  Three years after publication, comrade Stalin's assassins finally tracked down comrade Trotsky and murdered him; the weapon was an ice axe.

There was the writer and eternal enfant terrible Christopher Hitchens (1949-2011), in his youth a member of the International Socialists, who drifted away gradually but perceptibly before re-shaping his world-view into Islam vs the West after the 9/11 attacks, becoming a fellow-traveller with the neo-cons.  Across the Atlantic there was Irving Kristol (1920-2009) whose time with the Young People's Socialist League seems to have been more than youthful impetuosity because his faction was the then unfashionable Trotskyist group opposed to the Soviet state being built by comrade Stalin.  The extent to which his hard-right conservative wife changed his intellectual direct can be debated but for those who like “nurture vs nature” discussions, their son William Kristol (b 1952) was born a right-winger and has never deviated.  Perhaps the most famous quondam Trotskyist & Communist (he was inconsistent in his self-identification) of the Cold War years was the quondam Soviet spy Whittaker Chambers (1901-1961) whose testimony was crucial in the trial of State Department official Alger Hiss (1904–1996), the case on which the young congressman Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) built his reputation as an anti-communist.  Nixon later became one of many quondam presidents but the only one rendered thus by having to resign in disgrace.

Lindsay Lohan's quondam list (2013), partially redacted for publication by In Touch magazine.

Because her hectic lifestyle had for a decade-odd been chronicled (accurately and not) by the tabloid press, even before In Touch magazine in 2014 published a partially redacted list of three-dozen names Lindsay Lohan had in her own hand compiled of those with whom she’d enjoyed intimacy, she already had a reputation as a serial quondammer.  The list contained 36 names which seemed a reasonable achievement for someone then 27 although it wasn’t clear whether the count of three-dozen quandams was selective or exhaustive and upon publication it produced reactions among those mentioned ranging from “no comment” to denials in the style of a Clintonesque “I did not have sex with that woman”.  Other points of interest included Ms Lohan's apparently intact short & long-term memory and her commendably neat handwriting.  She seems to favor the “first letter bigger” style in which the format is “all capitals” but the first letter of a sentence or with proper nouns such as names is larger.  In typography, the idea is derived from the “drop cap”, a centuries-old tradition in publishing where the opening letter of a sentence is many times the size of the rest, the text wrapping around the big letter.  In many cases, a drop cap was an elaborate or stylized version of the letter.  Her writing was praised as neat and effortlessly legible.  

Ms Lohan was about as pleased the list had been published as Gore Vidal (1925–2012) might have been if gifted the complete anthology (deluxe edition, leather bound with commentaries by the author) of the works of Joyce Carol Oates (b 1938).  It transpired the list of 36 was written as part of the fifth step of the Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) programme Ms Loan was in 2013 undertaking at the Betty Ford Clinic; that is known informally as the “Confession” step and it encourages members to acknowledge the harm caused to themselves and others in their pursuit of alcohol: “Admitted to God, to oneself, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”  Legally, despite being tagged “confession”, US courts have never extended to the AA the same status of privileged communication which conferred on what passes between penitent and priest in the confession box so committing one’s sins to paper is doubly dangerous.  Subsequently interviewed, Ms Lohan said she could “neither confirm or deny” the accuracy of the list but seemed to confirm what In Touch had published appeared to be a photograph of what she’d written.  That was an interesting distinction to draw but who took the photograph remains a mystery although she concluded: “Someone when I was moving must have taken a photo of it”, adding: “So that’s a really personal thing and that’s unfortunate.”  Ms Lohan’s best-known quondam remains former special friend Samantha Ronson.

There is also much quondamism among those disillusioned by the cults of which they were once devoted followers and there have been many confessed Freemasons who abandoned the pseudo-faith, denouncing it as they stormed from the temple vowing never to return.  Although the Freemasons have centuries of experience in conducting cover-ups and are suspected to have infiltrated many news organizations, the fragmentation of the media in the internet age has meant stories sometimes do hit the headlines.  In 2024, the Rev Canon Dr Joseph Morrow (b 1954) not only resigned as Grand Master of The Freemasons of Scotland but also ceased to be a Mason.  Dr Morrow’s very public exit from the cult saw a flurry of speculation about what low skulduggery might have been involved, suggestions the he had been undermined by a “traditionalist” Masonic faction opposed to his plans to “modernize the craft”.  The conservatives clearly liked things the way then were and it seems there were tensions between members, some spooked by Dr Morrow pledged to oversee reform and widen recruitment, saying: “We will expand the global presence of Scottish freemasonry by inspiring our members to enjoy their involvement and by attracting new members.  This will be achieved by cultivating a positive culture of inclusivity and a meaningful impact on our communities.”  That must have sounded ominously like a DEI (diversity, equity & inclusion) agenda, not welcome by many in the all-male institution that is Scottish-rite Masonry and hearing Dr Morrow speak of “greater transparency” would have sat not well with those who prize Masonic secrecy and opaqueness.

Quondom Grand Master & quondom Freemason Dr Joseph Morrow in his Masonic Grand Master regalia.  Note the ceremonial apron being worn underneath jacket, a style almost unique to The Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry.

Suggestions were published alleging Dr Morrow left the cult because he’d learned the traditionalist faction was plotting and scheming against him, planning to propose an alternative grand master while he was on holiday in the Far East; his departure was said to be a case of “jumping before he was pushed”.  Circling the aprons, a spokesman for the Grand Lodge (1) denied any dissident members were plotting and scheming a palace coup, (2) claimed Dr Morrow had never raised “significant concerns”, (3) asserted: “No other candidate was planning to stand against him” and (4) maintained “Dr Morrow’s decision to resign was made for his own personal reasons.”  He concluded: “We are grateful for the huge contribution he has made to Scottish Freemasonry over many years and wish him well for the future.”  Whatever really happened, following his abrupt departure, the quondom Grand Master is also a quondom Freemason.

Accidie

Accidie (pronounced ak-si-dee)

Sloth; apathy, in the sense of both (1) a general listlessness and apathy and (2) spiritual torpor.

1200–1250: From the Middle English accidie, from the Anglo-Norman accidie, from the Old French accide & accidie, from the Medieval Latin accidia (an alteration of Late Latin acedia (sloth, torpor), from the Ancient Greek ἀκήδεια (akḗdeia) (indifference), the construct being ἀ- (a-) (in the sense of “not”) +‎ κῆδος (kêdos).  It was a doublet of acedia, still cited as an alternative form and replaced the Middle English accide.  The word was in active use between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries and was revived in the nineteenth as a literary adornment.  Accidie and acediast are nouns and acedious is an adjective; the noun plural is acediasts.

The alternative literary words include (1) ennui (a gripping listlessness or melancholia caused by boredom; depression), an unadapted borrowing from the French ennui, from the Old French enui (annoyance), from enuier (which in Modern French persists as ennuyer), from the Late Latin inodiō, from the Latin in odiō (hated) and a doublet of annoy, (2) weltschmerz, used as an alternative letter-case form of the German Weltschmerz (an apathetic or pessimistic view of life; depression concerning or discomfort with the human condition or state of the world; world-weariness), the construct being Welt (world) + Schmerz (physical ache, pain; emotional pain, heartache, sorrow) and coined by German Romantic writer Jean Paul (1763–1825) for his novel Selina (published posthumously in 1827) and (3) mal du siècle (apathy and world-weariness, involving pessimism towards the current state of the world, often along with nostalgia for the past (originally in the context of French Romanticism) (literally “disease of the century”) and coined by the French writer Alfred de Musset in his autobiographical novel La Confession d'un enfant du siècle (The Confession of a Child of the Century (1936)).

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December, 2011.

In Antiquity, the Greeks seemed to have refined accidie (which translated literally as being in “a state so inert as the be devoid of pain or care”) to be used of those who has become listless and no longer cared for their own lives or their society, thus distinguishing it from other conditions of melancholy which tended to be individually focused although in surviving medical texts, what’s being diagnosed was something like what might now be called “depression”.  Predictably, when adopted by moral theologians in Christian writing, it was depicted as a sin or at least a personal flaw.  Others wrote of it as a “demon” to be overcome and even a temptation placed by the Devil, one to which “young men who read poetry” seem to have been chronically prone.  It can be thought of as falling into the category of sloth, listed in the Medieval Latin tradition as of the seven deadly sins and appeared in Dante Alighieri’s (circa 1265–1321) Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)) not only as a sin worthy of damnation & eternal punishment but the very sin which led Dante to the edge of Hell.  In his unfinished Summa Theologiae (literally Summary of Theology), the Italian Dominican friar, philosopher & theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) noted accidie was a spiritual sorrow, induced by man’s flight from the Divine good, “…on account of the flesh utterly prevailing over the spirit”, the kind of despair which can culminate in the even greater sin of suicide.

Google ngram: Accidie 1800-2020.

Google ngram: Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Etymologists note that between the mid sixteenth and mid nineteenth centuries the word acedia was close to extinct and whether it was the revival of interest in the Romantic poets (often a glum lot) or the increasing number of women becoming novelists, there was in the late 1800s a revival with the term, once the preserve of theologians, re-purposed as a decorative literary word; in the “terrible twentieth century” there was much scope for use and it appears in the writings of Ian Fleming (1908–1964), Aldous Huxley (1894–1963) and Samuel Beckett (1906-1989).  Intriguingly, in The Decline and Fall of Nokia (2014), Finnish-based expatriate US writer David J Cord introduced the concept of corporate acedia, citing the phenomenon as one of the causes of the collapse of Nokia's once dominant mobile device unit.

Joan Didion (1934-2021) and cigarette with her Daytona Yellow (OEM code 984) 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray (on the C2 Corvette (1963-1967) and in 1968 the spelling had been "Sting Ray”).  The monochrome image was from a photo-session commissioned in 1970 by Life magazine and shot by staff photographer Julian Wasser (1933-2023), outside the house she was renting on Franklin Avenue in the Hollywood Hills.  To great acclaim, her first work of non-fiction, Slouching Towards Bethlehem (1968), had just been published.

Writing mostly, in one way or another, about “feelings”, Joan Didion’s work appealed mostly to a female readership but when photographs were published of her posing with her bright yellow Corvette, among men presumably she gained some “street cred” although that might have evaporated had they learned it was later traded for a Volvo; adding insult to injury, it was a Volvo station wagon with all that implies.  She was later interviewed about the apparent incongruity between owner and machine and acknowledged the strangeness, commenting: “I very definitely remember buying the Stingray because it was a crazy thing to do.  I bought it in Hollywood.”  Craziness and Hollywood were then of course synonymous and a C3 Corvette (1968-1982) really was the ideal symbol of the America about which Ms Didion wrote, being loud, flashy, rendered in plastic and flawed yet underpinned by a solid, well-engineered foundation; the notion of the former detracting from the latter was theme in in her essays on the American experience.

A 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray in Daytona Yellow.

Disillusioned, melancholic and clinical, Ms Didion’s literary oeuvre suited the moment because while obviously political it was also spiritual, a critique of what she called “accidie” of the late 1960s, the moral torpor of those disappointed by what had followed the hope and optimism captured by “Camelot”, the White House of John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963).  In retrospect Camelot was illusory but that of course made real the disillusionment of Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) leading the people not to a “great society” but to Vietnam.  Her essays were in the style of the “new journalism” and sometimes compared with those of her contemporary Susan Sontag (1933-2004) but the two differed in method, tone, ideological orientation and, debatably, expectation if not purpose.

Susan Sontag (1962), monochrome image by Village Voice staff photographer Fred McDarrah (1926–2007).

Ms Didion’s used accidie to describe a society which the troubled 1960s seemed to have bludgeoned into a state not of acquiescence but indifference, a moral exhaustion.  Her writings were observational (and, as she admitted, sometimes “embellished” for didactic purposes), sceptical and cool, her conception of the failure of contemporary politics a matter of describing the disconnect between rhetoric and reality, understanding the language of theatre criticism was as appropriate as that of the lexicon of political science.  In a sense, twas ever thus but Ms Didion captured the imagination by illustrating just how far from the moorings of reality the political spectacle of fragmentation and myth-making had drifted.  Ms Sontag’s tone was declarative and distinctly authoritative (in the way of second-wave feminism), tending often to the polemic and the sense was she was writing in opposition to a collective immorality, not the kind of moral indifference Ms Didion detected.  Both were students of their nation’s cultural pathology but one seemed more a palliative care specialist tending a patient in their dying days while the other offered a diagnosis and suggested a cure which, while not something to enjoy: "would be good for them".  While Ms Didion distrusted ideological certainty, Ms Sontag engaged explicitly with “isms”, not in the sense of one writing of the history of ideas but as a protagonist, using language in an attempt to shape political consciousness, the former a kind of secular moral theologian mourning a loss of coherence in American life while the latter was passionate and wrote often with a strident urgency, never losing the sense that whatever her criticisms, things could be fixed and there was hope.  The irony of being an author to some degree afflicted by the very accide she described in others was not lost on Ms Didion.

Susan Sontag, circa 1971, photographed by Jim Cartier.  The pop-art portrait of comrade Chairman Mao Zedong (1893–1976; chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 1949-1976) was a print of Roy Lichtenstein's (1923–1997) Mao (1971) which had been used as the cover for US author Frederic Tuten's (b 1936) novel The Adventures of Mao on the Long March (1971).  Ms Sontag had written a most favourable review of the book and the framed print was reputedly a gift.

Joan Didion with Corvette, another image from Julian Wasser’s 1970 photo-shoot.  The staging in this one is for feminists to ponder.

While a stretch to say that in trading-in the Corvette for a Volvo station wagon, Ms Didion was tracking the nation which had moved from Kennedy to Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), it’s too tempting not to make.  Of the Corvette, she used the phrase: “I gave up on it”, later recounting: “the dealer was baffled” but denied the change was related to moving after eight years from Malibu to leafy, up-market suburban Brentwood.  While she “…needed a new car because with the Corvette something was always wrong…” she “…didn’t need a Volvo station wagon” although did concede: “Maybe it was the idea of moving into Brentwood.”  She should have persevered because as many an owner of a C3 Corvette understands, the faults and flaws are just part of the brutish charm.  Whether the car still exists isn't known; while Corvette's have a higher than average survival rate, their use on drag strips & race tracks as well as their attractiveness to males aged 17-25 has meant not a few suffered misadventure.

Joan Didion with Corvette, rendered as oil on canvas with yellow filter.

The configuration of her car seems not anywhere documented but a reasonable guess is it likely was ordered with the (base) 300 horsepower (hp) version (ZQ3) of the 350 cubic inch (5.7 litre) small-block V8, coupled with the Turbo-Hydramatic 400 (TH400) (M40) three-speed automatic transmission (the lighter TH350 wouldn't be used until 1976 by which time power outputs had fallen so much the robustness of the TH400 was no longer required).  When scanning the option list, although things like the side-mounted exhaust system (N14) or the 430 hp versions (the iron-block L88 & all aluminium ZL1, the power ratings of what were barely-disguised race car engines deliberately understated, the true output between 540-560 hp) of the 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) big-block V8 would not have tempted Ms Didion, she may have ticked the box for the leather trim (available in six colors and the photos do suggest black (402 (but if vinyl the code was ZQ4)), air conditioning (C60), power steering (N40), power brakes (J50), power windows (A31) or an AM-FM radio (U69 and available also (at extra cost) with stereo (U79)).  Given she later traded-in the Corvette on a Volvo station wagon, presumably the speed warning indicator (U15) would have been thought superfluous but, living in Malibu, the alarm system (UA6) might have caught her eye.

Quintessential symbols of France, Bridget Bardot (b 1934), Citroën La Déesse and a lit Gitanes.

The combination of a car, a woman with JBF and a cigarette continued to draw photographers even after smoking ceased to be glamorous and became a social crime.  First sold in 1910, Gitanes production in France survived two world wars, the Great Depression, Nazi occupation but the regime of Jacques Chirac (1932–2019; President of France 1995-2007) proved too much and, following the assault on tobacco by Brussels and Paris, in 2005 the factory in Lille was shuttered.  Although Gitanes (and the sister cigarette Gauloise) remain available in France, they are now shipped from Spain and while in most of the Western world fewer now smoke, Gitanes Blondes retain a cult following.

Emily Labowe with Mercedes-Benz 300 TD (S123), photographed by Kristin Gallegos.

An image like this illustrate why, even if no longer quite as glamourous, smoking can still look sexy.  The 300 TD is finished in Manila Beige and for the W123 range Mercedes-Benz also offered the subdued Maple Yellow and the exuberant Sun Yellow which was as vivid as the Corvette's Daytona Yellow. 

No images seem to exist of Joan Didion with her Volvo station wagon but Laurel Canyon's Kristin Gallegos (b 1984) later followed Julian Wasser’s staging by photographing artist Emily Labowe (b 1993) with a Mercedes-Benz 300 TD station wagon and that once essential accessory: a cigarette.  One of the last of the “chrome Mercedes”, the W123 range was in production between 1975-1986 and the station wagon appeared in 1977 with the internal code S123 (only nerds use that and to the rest of the world they’re “W123 wagons”).  The designation was “T” (the very Germanic Tourismus und Transport (Touring and Transport)) or TD for the diesel-powered cars and the S123 was the company’s first station wagon to enter series production, previous such “long roof” models coming from coach-builders including many hearses & ambulances as well as station wagons.  The English still call station wagons "estates" (a clipping of "estate car") although a publication like Country Life probably still hankers after "shooting brake" and the most Prussian of the German style guides list the compound noun Kombinationskraftwagen which for decades has usually been clipped to the semi-formal Kombiwagen, (plural Kombiwagen or Kombiwägen) or, in general use: Kombi.   

Mercedes-Benz G4s: Gepäckwagen (baggage car, top left) & Funkauto (radio car, top right) and 300 Messwagen (bottom left) at speed on the test track, tethered to a W111 sedan (1959-1968, bottom right).

The factory did though over the decades build a handful including a brace of the three-axle G4s (W31, 1934-1939), one configured as a Gepäckwagen (baggage car), the other a Funkauto (radio car).  In 1960 there was also the Messwagen (measuring car), a kind of “rolling laboratory” from the era before technology allowed most testing to be emulated in software.  The capacious Messwagen was based on the W189 300 “Adenauer” (W186 & W189 1951-1962) and was then state of the art but by the 2020s, the capabilities of all the bulky equipment which filled the rear compartment could have been included in a single phone app.  Students of design will admire the mid-century modernism in the curve of the rear-side windows but might be surprised to learn the muscle car-like scoop on the roof is not an air-intake but an aperture housing ports for connecting the Messwagen’s electronic gear with the vehicle being monitored, the two closely driven in unison (often at high speed) on the test track while being linked with a few metres of cabling and although we now live in a wireless age, real nerds know often a cable is preferable, the old ways sometimes best.  The Messwagen remained in service until 1972 and is now on display at the factory’s museum in Stuttgart.

1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser (left), details of the apparatuses above the windscreen (centre) and the Breezeaway rear window lowered (right)

The 1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser was notable for (1) the truly memorable model name, (2) introducing the “Breezeway" rear window which could be lowered and (3) having a truly bizarre assembly  of “features” above the windscreen.  There’s no suggestion that when fashioning the 300 Messwagen the engineers in Stuttgart were aware of the Turnpike Cruiser but had they looked, it could have provided an inspiration for the way access to ports in the roof could have been handled.  Unfortunately, the pair of “radio aerials” protruding from the pods at the top of the Mercury’s A-pillars were a mere affectation, a “jet-age” motif embellishing what were actually air-intakes.  They were though a harbinger of the way in which future “measuring vehicles” would be configured when various forms of wireless communication had advanced to the point where a cable connection was no longer required.  

Effectuate

Effectuate (pronounced ih-fek-choo-yet)

To bring about; give effect to; cause to happen; accomplish; carry out (a wish, order, plan etc).

1570–1580: From the Medieval Latin effectuatus (brought to pass), the past participle of the Renaissance Latin effectuare, the construct being effectu- (stem of effectus (effect) + -atus.  It’s assumed the Medieval Latin was influenced by the Middle French effectuer.  The Latin suffix -ātus was from the Proto-Italic -ātos, from the primitive Indo-European -ehtos.  It’s regarded as a "pseudo-participle" and perhaps related to –tus although though similar formations in other Indo-European languages indicate it was distinct from it already in early Indo-European times.  It was cognate with the Proto-Slavic –atъ and the Proto-Germanic -ōdaz (the English form being -ed (having).  The feminine form was –āta, the neuter –ātum and it was used to form adjectives from nouns indicating the possession of a thing or a quality.  In biology, the noun effector (plural effectors) describes (1) any muscle, organ etc. that can respond to a stimulus from a nerve, (2) the part of a nerve that carries a stimulus to a muscle etc or (3) any small molecule that effects the function of an enzyme by binding to an allosteric site (all some sort of actuator).  Effectuate & effectuating are verbs, effectuator is a noun, effectuation is a noun and effectuated is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is effectuators.

In his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926), Henry Fowler (1858–1933) summed up the cluster of “effect” words with his usual efficiency: Historically, effective, effectual, efficacious & efficient all meant “having an effect, but use varied with both different applications and some often disregarded shades of meaning.  Effective means “having a definite or desired effect, existing in fact rather than theoretically, coming into operation”.  Efficacious should be applied only to things and has long been popular in medicine (treatments, drug regimes etc) and means “certain to have or usually having the desired effect”.  Efficient applies to agents or their actions or to instruments etc, meaning “capable of producing the desired effect, not incompetent or unequal to a task.  Effectual applies to actions apart from the agent and means not falling short of the complete effect aimed at while effective applies to the thing done (or its doer as such) and means having a high degree of effect. 

Something is effectual if the intended result is produced and there’re are degrees of effectiveness, the comparative being “more effectual”, the superlative “most effectual”, and as early as the early sixteenth century the most formal (and still popular) way of expressing that was to suggest something has been efficacious (the comparative “more efficacious”, the superlative “most efficacious”).  Historically, efficacious was a synonym of effective but the latter has been co-opted for many purposes so efficacious gained a career as a “decorative word” of the “dinner party” type.  The act referenced is one of “effectuation” (the act of effectuating) and the antonym is inefficacious.  One who effects the effectuation is an effectuator.  So, effectuate means “to cause something to happen" or “to bring about an effect” and it entered English in the early 1600s with a formal or legal tone, something retained to this day; the legal connection is the distinction between “facilitate” (make it possible for something to be effectuated) and effectuate (do something which has earlier been facilitated).  It’s a useful distinction for lawyers to draw and something like the way cosmologists differentiate between a “point in time” and a “point in space”, something which apparently becomes of increasing significance the further one travels (in theory) from Earth.  To most of us that’s the difference between “when” and “where” but cosmologists understand there’s some overlap between the two.

Google ngram: Effectuate's pattern of use, 1800-2022.  Never a word in common use, it has never gone away and has apparently low been a favorite in essays by students of law and political science.

Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Karoline Leavitt, the White House, 2025.

Definitely on planet Earth (though sometimes accused of existing in a parallel reality of “alternative facts”), the White House recently introduced many to the word “effectuate”, Karoline Leavitt (b 1997; White House press secretary since 2025) explaining that while the USSC (US Supreme Court) had ruled it was the administration's responsibility to “facilitate the return” of a migrant mistakenly sent to a prison in El Salvador, but “not to effectuate the return.”  That is a reasonable interpretation of the practicalities and not mere legal sophistry because while the court’s unanimous ruling means is the administration has to “make possible” the return of the party. It seems not to impose an obligation actually to make the travel arrangements.

However, this exchange between the two “co-equal” branches of government is merely emblematic of a fundamental dispute in which the Trump administration does not wish to acknowledge the courts may intervene in its efforts to effectuate, on a truly grand scale, mass deportation.  At this stage the White House seems to have decided not to engage in outright defiance and pursue instead strategy of “paralysis by analysis”.  The Supreme Court upheld an order from the US District requiring the DoJ (Department of Justice) to submit plans “to facilitate and effectuate” the return but the DoJ asked the hearing be delayed so it might “evaluate” the USSC’s ruling.  After further extensions of the deadline were granted, the DoJ asserted the court had set an “impractical” deadline and had provided “insufficient” time for plans to be drawn up, adding the department didn’t fully understand the order, given the court had not clarified what it means to “facilitate” or “effectuate” the return.  The USSC refrained from suggesting the DoJ’s lawyers consult a dictionary and instructed the District Court to issue a clarification of “the intended scope of the term ‘effectuate’” but did confirm the order to “facilitate” the return was valid.

There is nothing new in tensions between an administration wanting to do things (often stuff claimed to enjoy an electoral mandate) and courts which insist things, however popular, must be effectuated in accord with the constitution and as long ago as 2019 Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) had discussed Article II (The Executive) of the constitution, claiming it meant “…I have the right to do whatever I want as president.”  Ominous as that may sound, especially in the light of the USSC’s extraordinary 2024 ruling in the matter of presidential immunity from prosecution, it seems still not quite at the point either of that asserted by Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974 and a trained lawyer) who held “if the president does it, it can’t be illegal” or the state of law in the Third Reich (1933-1945) which by 1943 (at the latest) had degenerated to the point where law had become “what the Führer says it is”.

In democratic societies, respect for the rule of law and constitutions are important and there have been many states in which orders from courts habitually are defied or simply ignored.  The respect is vital because in terms of enforcement of will the difference between the executive and judicial institutions truly is striking; one side with police forces, an army, navy & air force and the other with word processors and shelves of books containing statutes and precedents.  In terms of raw power therefore, all the courts have is moral authority and the expectation others will respect the law while, if so minded, an executive can be of the “…and how many divisions has he got?” school.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

That school of thought has often been ascribed to Andrew Jackson (1767–1845; US president 1829-1837) who is reputed to have said of a judgment by the chief justice (John Marshall (1755–1835; chief justice of the US 1801-1835) with which he disagreed: “John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it!”  The “quotation” was not revealed until some two decades after Jackson’s death when it appeared in Horace Greeley’s (1811–1872) The American Conflict: A History of the Great Rebellion in the United States of America, 1860–1864 (in two volumes, 1864 & 1866) and most think it apocryphal.  Greeley was usually informative and often entertaining and while that exact sentence may never has passed the president’s lips, historians generally agree it was an accurate paraphrase of the sentiments he at the time expressed to many and, had the court requested the assistance of the executive in enforcing the order, it’s not certain Jackson would have followed constitutional precedent and complied.  As things turned out, no request was ever issued so there never was a “constitutional crisis” but the matter does emphasize how vital it is for the executive (which alone possesses the means of force) to respect the role of the courts which have only a moral authority.