Enthrone

Enthrone (pronounced en-throhn)

(1) To put on the throne in a formal installation ceremony (sometimes called an enthronement) which variously could be synonymous with (or simultaneously performed with) a coronation or other ceremonies of investiture.

(2) Figuratively in this context, to help a candidate to the succession of a monarchy or by extension in any other major organisation (ie the role of “kingmakers”, literal and otherwise).

(3) To invest with sovereign or episcopal authority (ie a legal instrument separate from any ceremony).

(4) To honour or exalt (now rare except in literary or poetic use).

(5) Figuratively, to assign authority to or vest authority in.

Circa 1600: The construct was en- + throne and the original meaning was “to place on a throne, exalt to the seat of royalty”.  For this purpose it replaced the late fourteenth century enthronize, from the thirteenth century Old French introniser, from the Late Latin inthronizare, from Greek the enthronizein.  In the late fourteenth century the verb throne (directly from the noun) was used in the same sense.  Throne (the chair or seat occupied by a sovereign, bishop or other exalted personage on ceremonial occasions) dates from the late twelfth century and was from the Middle English trone, from the Old French trone, from the Latin thronus, from the Ancient Greek θρόνος (thrónos) (chair, high-set seat, throne).  It replaced the earlier Middle English seld (seat, throne).  In facetious use, as early as the 1920s, throne could mean “a toilet” (used usually in the phrase “on the throne”) and in theology had the special use (in the plural and capitalized) describing the third (a member of an order of angels ranked above dominions and below cherubim) of the nine orders into which the angels traditionally were divided in medieval angelology.  The en- prefix was from the Middle English en- (en-, in-), from the Old French en- (also an-), from the Latin in- (in, into).  It was also an alteration of in-, from the Middle English in-, from the Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in (in).  Both the Latin & Germanic forms were from the primitive Indo-European en (in, into).  The intensive use of the Old French en- & an- was due to confluence with Frankish intensive prefix an- which was related to the Old English intensive prefix -on.  It formed a transitive verb whose meaning is to make the attached adjective (1) in, into, (2) on, onto or (3) covered.  It was used also to denote “caused” or as an intensifier.  The prefix em- was (and still is) used before certain consonants, notably the labials b and p.  Enthrone, dethrone, enthronest & enthronize are verbs, enthronementm, enthronization & enthroner are nouns, enthroning is a noun & verb, enthroned is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is enthronements.  The noun enthronable is non-standard.  The derived forms include the verb unenthrone, reenthrone & disenthrone and although there have been many enthroners, the form enthronee has never existed.

Alhaji Ibrahim Wogorie (b 1967) being enskinned as North Sisala community chief, Ghana, July 2023.

In colonial-era West Africa the coined forms were “enskin” (thus enskinment, enskinning, enskinned) and “enstool” (thus enstoolment, enstooling, enstooled).  These words were used to refer to the ceremonies in which a tribal chief was installed in his role; the meanings thus essentially the same as enjoyed in the West by “enthrone”.  The constructs reflected a mix of indigenous political culture and English morphological adaptation during the colonial period, the elements explained by (1) the animal skins (the distinctive cheetah often mentioned in the reports of contemporary anthropologists although in some Islamic and Sahelian-influenced chieftaincies (including the Dagomba, Mamprusi, Hausa emirates), a cow or lion skin often was the symbol of authority) which often surrounded the new chief and (2) the tradition in Africa of a chief sitting on a stool.  Sometimes, the unfortunate animal’s skin would be laid over the stool (and almost always, one seems to have been laid at the chief’s feet) but in some traditions (notably in northern Ghana and parts of Nigeria) it was a mark of honor for the chief to sit on a skin spread on the ground.

Dr Mahamudu Bawumia (b 1963), enstooled as Nana Ntentankesehene (Chief of the Internet/Web), Ghana, August 2024.  Note the cheetah skin used to trim the chair.

The stool was the central symbol of chieftaincy and kingship among Akan-speaking peoples (still in present-day Ghana where “to enskin” is used generally to mean “to install as a leader of a group” and the constitution (1992) explicitly protects the institution of chieftaincy and judicial decisions routinely use “enstool” or “enskin” (depending on region)).  In Akan political culture, the most famous use was the Sika Dwa Kofi (the Golden Stool) of the Asante and it represented the embodiment of the polity and ancestors, not merely a seat (used rather like the synecdoches “the Pentagon” (for the US Department of Defense (which appears now to be headed by a cabinet office who simultaneously is both Secretary of Defense & Secretary of War)) or “Downing Street” (for the UK prime-minister or the government generally).  Thus, to be “enstooled” is ritually to be placed into office as chief, inheriting the authority vested in the stool.  Enskin & enstool (both of which seem first to have appeared in the records of the Colonial Office in the 1880s and thus were products of the consolidation of British indirect rule in West Africa, rather than being survivals from earlier missionary English which also coined its own terms) were examples of semantic calquing (the English vocabulary reshaped to encode indigenous concepts) and, as it was under the Raj in India, it was practical administrative pragmatism, colonial officials needing precise (and standardized) terms that distinguished between different systems of authority.  In truth, they were also often part of classic colonial “fixes” in which the British would take existing ceremonies and add layers of ritual to afforce the idea of a chief as “their ruler” and within a couple of generations, sometimes the local population would talk of the newly elaborate ceremony as something dating back centuries; the “fix” was a form of constructed double-legitimization.

A classic colonial fix was the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (Great Council of Chiefs) in Fiji which the British administrators created in 1878.  While it's true that prior to European contact, there had been meetings between turaga (tribal chiefs) to settle disputes and for other purposes, all the evidence suggests they were ad-hoc appointments with little of the formality, pomp and circumstance the British introduced.  Still, it was a successful institution which the chiefs embraced, apparently with some enthusiasm because the cloaks and other accoutrements they adopted for the occasion became increasingly elaborate and it was a generally harmonious form of indigenous governance which enabled the British to conduct matters of administration and policy-making almost exclusively through the chiefs.  The council survived even after Fiji gained independence from Britain in 1970 until it was in 2012 abolished by the military government of Commodore Frank Bainimarama (b 1954; prime minister of Fiji 2007-2022), as part of reform programme said to be an attempt to reduce ethnic divisions and promote a unified national identity.  The commodore's political future would be more assured had he learned lessons from the Raj.

There was of course an element of racial hierarchy in all this and “enskin” & “enstool” denoted a “tribal chief” under British rule whereas “enthrone” might have been thought to imply some form of sovereignty because that was the linkage in Europe and that would never do.  What the colonial authorities wanted was to maintain the idea of “the stool” as a corporate symbol, the office the repository of the authority, not the individual.  The danger with using a term like “enthronement” was the population might be infected by the European notion of monarchy as a hereditary kingship with personal sovereignty; what the Europeans wanted was “a stool” and they would decide who would be enstooled, destooled or restooled. 

Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi, Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban, South Africa, October 2022.

English words and their connotations did continue to matter in the post-colonial world because although the colonizers might have departed, often the legacy of language remained, sometimes as an “official” language of government and administration.  In the 1990s, the office of South Africa’s Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi (1928–2023) sent a series of letters to the world’s media outlets advising he should be styled as “Prince” and not “Chief”, on the basis of being the grandson of one Zulu king and the nephew of another.  The Zulus were once described as a “tribe” and while that reflected the use in ethnography, the appeal in the West was really that it represented a rung on the racist hierarchy of civilization, the preferred model being: white people have nations or states, Africans cluster in tribes or clans.  The colonial administrators recognized these groups had leaders and typically they used the style “chief” (from the Middle English cheef & chef, from the Old French chef & chief (leader), from the Vulgar Latin capus, from the Classical Latin caput (head), from the Proto-Italic kaput, from the primitive Indo-European káput).  As the colonial records make clear, there were “good” chiefs and “troublesome” chiefs, thus the need sometimes to arrange a replacement enstooling.

Unlike in the West where styles of address and orders of precedence were codified (indeed, somewhat fetishized), the traditions in Africa seem to have been more fluid and Mangosuthu Buthelezi didn’t rely on statute or even documented convention when requesting the change.  Instead, he explained “prince” reflected his Zulu royal lineage not only was appropriate (he may have cast an envious eye at the many Nigerian princes) but was also commonly used as his style by South African media, some organs or government and certainly his own Zulu-based political party (IQembu leNkatha yeNkululeko (the IPF; Inkatha Freedom Party).  He had in 1953 assumed the Inkosi (chieftainship) of the Buthelezi clan, something officially recognized four year laters by Pretoria although not until the early 1980s (when it was thought he might be useful as a wedge to drive into the ANC (African National Congress) does the Apartheid-era government seem to have started referring to him as “prince”).  Despite that cynical semi-concession, there was never a formal re-designation.

Enthroned & installed: Lindsay Lohan in acrylic & rhinestone tiara during “prom queen scene” in Mean Girls (2004).

In the matter of prom queens and such, it’s correct to say there has been “an enthronement” because even in the absence of a physical throne (in the sense of “a chair”), the accession is marked by the announcement and the placing of the crown or tiara.  This differs from something like the “enthroning” of a king or queen in the UK because, constitutionally, there is no interregnum, the new assuming the title as the old took their last breath and “enthronement” is a term reserved casually to apply to the coronation.  Since the early twentieth century, the palace and government have contrived to make an elaborate “made for television” ceremony although it has constitutional significance beyond the rituals related to the sovereign’s role as Supreme Governor of the Church of England.

Dame Sarah Mullally in the regalia of Bishop of London; in January 2026, she will take office as Archbishop of Canterbury, the formal installation in March.  No longer one of the world's more desirable jobs (essentially because it can't be done), all wish her the best of British luck.

In October 2025, the matter of enthronement (or, more correctly, non-enthronement) in the Church of England made a brief splash in some of the less explored corners of social media after it was announced the ceremony marking the accession of the next Archbishop of Canterbury would be conducted in Canterbury Cathedral in March 2026.  The announcement was unexceptional in that it was expected and for centuries Archbishops of Canterbury have come and gone (although the last one was declared gone rather sooner than expected) but what attracted some comment was the new appointee was to be “installed” rather than the once traditional “enthroned”.  The conclusion some drew was this apparent relegation was related to the next archbishop being Dame Sarah Mullally (née Bowser; b 1962) the first woman to hold the once desirable job, the previous 105 prelates having been men, the first, Saint Augustine of Canterbury in 597.

However, there is in the church no substantive legal or theological significance in the use of “installed” rather than “enthroned” and the choice reflects modern ecclesiastical practice rather than having any doctrinal or canonical effect.  A person become Archbishop of Canterbury through a sequence of juridical acts and these constitute the decisive legal instruments; ceremonial rites have a symbolic value but nothing more, the power of the office vested from the point at which the legal mechanisms have correctly been executed (in that, things align with the procedures used for the nation’s monarchs).  So the difference is one of tone rather than substance and the “modern” church has for decades sought to distance itself from perceptions it may harbor quasi-regal aspirations or the perpetuation of clerical grandeur and separateness; at least from Lambeth Palace, the preferred model long has been: pastoral; most Church of England bishops have for some times been “installed” in their cathedrals (despite “enthronement” surviving in some press reports, a product likely either of nostalgia or “cut & paste journalism”).  That said, some Anglican provinces outside England still “enthrone” (apparently on the basis “it’s always been done that way” rather than the making of a theological or secular point”).

Lambeth Palace, the Archbishop of Canterbury's official London residence.

Interestingly, Archbishops of York (“the church in the north”) have continued to be enthroned while those at Canterbury became installations.  Under canon law, the wording makes literally no difference and historians have concluded the retention of the older form is clung to for no reason other than “product differentiation”, York Minster often emphasizing their continuity with medieval ceremonial forms; it’s thus a mere cultural artefact, the two ceremonies performing the same liturgical action: seating the archbishop in the cathedra (the chair (throne) of the archbishop).  Because it’s the Archbishop of Canterbury and not York who sits as the “spiritual head of the worldwide Anglican community”, in York there’s probably not the same sensitivity to criticism of continuing with “Romish ways” with the whiff of “popery”.

In an indication of how little the wording matters, it’s not clear who was the last Archbishop of Canterbury who could be said to have been “enthroned” because there was never any differentiation of form in the ceremonies and the documents suggest the terms were used casually and even interchangeably.  What can be said is that Geoffrey Fisher (1887–1972; AoC-99: 1945-1961) was installed at a ceremony widely described (in the official programme, ecclesiastical commentaries and other church & secular publications) as an “enthronement” and that was the term used in the government Gazette; that’s as official an endorsement of the term as seems possible because, being an established church, bishops are appointed by the Crown on the advice of the prime minister although the procedure has at least since 2007 been a “legal fiction” because the church’s CNC (Crown Nominations Commission) sends the names to the prime minister who acts as a “postbox”, forwarding them to the palace for the issuing of letters patent confirming the appointment.  When Michael Ramsey (1904–1988; AoC-100: 1961-1974), was appointed, although the term “enthrone” did appear in press reports, the church’s documents almost wholly seem to have used “install” and since then, in Canterbury, it’s been installations all the way,

Pope Pius XII in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, March, 1939.

So, by the early 1960s the church was responding, if cautiously, to the growing anti-monarchical sentiment in post-war ecclesiology although this does seem to have been a sentiment of greater moment to intellectuals and theologians than parishioners.  About these matters there was however a kind of ecumenical sensitivity emerging and the conciliar theology later was crystallised (if not exactly codified) in the papers of Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965, published 1970).  The comparison with the practice in Rome is interesting because there are more similarities than differences although that is obscured by words like “enthronement” and “coronation” being seemingly embedded in the popular (and journalistic) imagination. That’s perhaps understandable because for two millennia as many as 275 popes (officially the count is 267 but it’s not certain how many there have been because there have been “anti-popes” and allegedly even one woman (although that’s now largely discounted)) have sat “on the throne of Saint Peter” (retrospectively the first pope) so the tradition is long.  In Roman Catholic canon law, “enthronement” is not a juridical term; the universal term is capio sedem (taking possession of the cathedral (ie “installation”)) and, as in England, an appointment is formalized once the legal instruments are complete, the subsequent ceremony, while an important part of the institution’s mystique, exists for the same reason as it does for the Church of England or the House of Windsor: it’s the circuses part of panem et circenses (bread and circuses).  Unlike popes who once had coronations, archbishops of Canterbury never did because they made no claim to temporal sovereignty.

Pope Paul VI in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, June. 1963.  It was the last papal coronation.

So, technically, modern popes are “installed as Bishop of Rome” and in recent decades the Holy See has adjusted the use of accoutrements to dispel any implication of an “enthronement”, the last papal coronation at which a pope was crowned with the triple tiara was that of Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) but in “an act of humility” he removed it, placing it on the on the alter where (figuratively), it has since sat.  Actually, Paul VI setting aside the triple tiara as a symbolic renunciation of temporal and monarchical authority was a bit overdue because the Papal States had been lost to the Holy See with the unification of Italy in 1870 though the Church refused to acknowledge that reality; in protest, no pope for decades set foot outside the Vatican.  However, in the form of the Lateran Treaty (1929), the Holy See entered into a concordat with the Italian state whereby the (1) the Vatican was recognized as a sovereign state and (2) the church was recognized as Italy’s state religion in exchange for which the territorial and political reality was recognized.  Despite that, until 1963 the triple tiara (one tier of which was said to symbolize the pope’s temporal authority over the papal states) appeared in the coronations of Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958), John XXIII (1881-1963; pope 1958-1963) and Paul VI (who didn’t formal abolished the rite of papal coronation from the Ordo Rituum pro Ministerii Petrini Initio Romae Episcopi (Order of Rites for the Beginning of the Petrine Ministry of the Bishop of Rome (the liturgical book detailing the ceremonies for a pope's installation)) until 1975.

The Chair of St Augustine.  In church circles, archbishops of Canterbury are sometimes said to "occupy the Chair of St Augustine".

The Chair of St Augustine sits in Canterbury Cathedral but technically, an AoC is “twice installed”: once on the Diocesan throne as the Bishop of the see of Canterbury and also on the Chair of St Augustine as Primate of All England (the nation's first bishop) and spiritual leader of the worldwide Anglican Communion. So, there’s nothing unusual in Sarah Mullally being “installed” rather than “enthroned” as would have been the universal terminology between the reformation and the early twentieth century.  Linguistically, legally and theologically, the choice of words is a non-event and anyone who wishes to describe Dame Sarah as “enthroned” may do so without fear of condemnation, excommunication or a burning at the stake.  What is most likely is that of those few who notice, fewer still are likely to care.

Edition

Edition (pronounced ih-dish-uhn)

(1) One of a series of printings of the same publication, each issued at a different time and differing from another by alterations, additions etc (historically sometimes referred to as impressions).

(2) The format in which a work is published (single volume edition, abridged edition, leather-bound edition, French language edition etc).

(3) In newspaper production, a form of differentiation between different versions of the “same” issue (late edition, city edition etc) and used in a similar manner in radio & television broadcasting.

(4) In book collecting, as “first edition”, a copy of a book from its first release or print run.

(5) The whole number of impressions or copies of a book, newspaper etc, printed from one set of type at one time.

(6) A version of anything (physical and not), often (sometimes misleadingly) in forms such as “limited edition”, “special edition” etc).

1545–1555: From the French édition, from the Middle French, from the Latin ēditiōn- (publication), the stem of ēditiō (a bringing forth, publishing), the construct being ēdit, the past participle of ēdere (to give out; bring forth, produce) + -iōn (the suffix appended to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the result of an action or process).  When the word entered English in the sense of “version, translation, a form of a literary work” (and later “act of publishing”) the dominant linguistic influence was probably the Latin editionem (a bringing forth, producing (although in specialized use it also carried the meaning “a statement, an account rendered”, from the past-participle stem of ēdere, the construct being e(x) (in the sense of “out”) + -dere, a combining form of dare (to give), from the primitive Indo-European root do- (to give).  Edition is a noun; the noun plural is editions.  The adjective editionism is non-standard and was coined to describe the practice in commerce in which different “editions” of essentially the same product are brought to market in an effort to induce customers to purchase multiple items even though the difference between them may be little more than the packaging.  It's a cynically profitable approach (the additional production & distribution costs marginal) which works especially well for those with a dedicated (hopefully obsessional) following.

More Issues Than Vogue sweatshirt from Impressions.

In publishing and (sometimes vaguely) related fields, the terms “issue”, “edition” and “version” have come to be used so loosely that they sometimes function interchangeably but within the publishing industry, there are conventions of use: Issue traditionally was used to refer to a specific release of a recurring publication (magazine, journal, newspaper etc) and tended to be tied to the release sequence (“October 2024 Issue”, “Fall 2024 Issue”, “Issue No. 215” etc).  Issue can however be used also as “re-issue” which refers usually to a “re-print” of a previous edition although it’s not uncommon for blurbs like “re-issued with new foreword” or “re-issued in large print” to appear, the implication being the substantive content remains the same.  Edition was used of a particular form or version of a publication that might differ from previous ones in significant ways which might include text corrections, foreign language translations, or updates, thus descriptions like “German Language Edition”, “Second Edition” or “Abridged Edition.  Some editions (especially those which appear in an irregular sequence) actually give in their title some hint of the nature of what distinguishes them from what came before such as the convention adopted by the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic for their Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM).  What the APA does is change the number if a DSM is regarded as a “new edition” but retain the number with an appended “R” (revised) or “TR” (text revision) if it’s an “updated edition”.  Thus has appeared the DSM-III-R (1987), the DSM-IV-TR (2000) and the DSM-5-TR (2022).  There’s some overlap in use for version and this perhaps reflects the influence of technology because it tends to be used of a specific form or variant of a publication such as language (eg Spanish version), format (eg audio version) or materials used in the construction (eg e-book version) rather than an implication of a chronological or iterative update (which in publishing tends to be called an “edition”.  In that the industry differs from IT where version numbers are almost always sequential although the convention widely used in the 1980s in which something like “version 2.4.3” could be interpreted as 2=major release, 4=update and 3=bug fix has long fallen into disuse.

Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version (RSV), 1952 limited edition, first printing by Thomas Nelson & Sons, brown full leather binding with inlaid gold lettering, silk end paper and green cardboard slip case, custom bound by the Chicago Bible Society.  US$750 from Abe Books.

There are also special uses which assume a life of their own, notably the Revised Standard Version (RSV), an English translation of the Bible published in 1952 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the US.  The RSV was a revision of the American Standard Version (ASV, 1901) and was published to render the text into the modern English which readily would be understood by a contemporary reader of modest education.  The object was not to change the meaning of the text but to preserve it and paradoxically this required editing the classic verses written by William Tyndale (circa 1494–1536) or in the King James Version (KJV, 1611) because the over hundreds of years the language had evolved and the much of what was in the original needed to be interpreted for a general audience and the controversy of clerical gatekeepers between God and his people had for centuries been a thing.  The RSV however has not been the last word and those who track novel initializms will have been delighted by the appearance of the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV, released in 1989 by the National Council of Churches (NCC) and the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVue), published in 2021.  Students of such things aren’t expecting the next update for at least a decade but finding a name might prove more of a challenge than editing the Old Testament’s Book of Leviticus for a modern audience although those who have worked in biblical forks have found alpha-numeric solutions such as RSV-2CE (Revised Standard Version, Second Catholic Edition (2006))

First Edition of James Joyce’s Ulysses, "Copy No 1", held in the National Library of Ireland.  It contains in Joyce's hand an inscription to the English political activist Harriet Shaw Weaver (1876–1961) who was for decades his patron.

A first edition of Ulysses (1922) by James Joyce (1882–1941) in 2009 sold on the opening day of an antiquarian book fair London for Stg£275,000, at the time a record for a twentieth century first edition.  Ulysses is regarded in the industry as the most collectable modern novel and the first editions, printed on hand-made Dutch fine-paper, are well-catalogued and this was number 45 of the first edition print run (all signed by the author) of 100, one of four not previously accounted for.  It had been sold originally by the Manhattan’s obviously subversive Sunwise Turn bookshop (Ulysses at the times banned in the US) and remained in the possession of the same family, stored in its original box and thus not exposed to light, accounting for the preservation of the construction.  Proving that dealers in literary circles can gush with the finest used car salesmen, the dealer who arranged the sale explained: “The color is amazing – this lovely Aegean Sea, Greek flag blue which would normally have darkened into a more dirty blue but because it has been in a box it is a complete thing of beauty.”  The almost pristine condition was a product also of its history of use, an inspection suggesting it was seemingly unread except for the well-thumbed final chapter where the most salacious passages can be found.  The existence of unread copies of well-known books is not unusual and those notorious for sitting neglected on the bookshelf include “challenging” texts such as A Theory of Justice (1971) by John Rawls (1921–2002), A Brief History of Time (1988) by Stephen Hawking (1942–2018) and Joyce’s own, bafflingly difficult Finnegans Wake (1939).  Intriguingly, the antiquarian book business also includes the category “pre-first edition” (any limited run copy of a book printed before the “first edition” is published).  The apparent oxymoron is explained by “first edition” being an industry definition rather than a literal description; pre-first editions thus analogous with “pre-production” or “final prototype” cars which (if they’ve survive the crusher which claims many) can be prized by collectors.

Among special editions there are, inter alia, “Collector's Editions”, “Anniversary Editions” and even, in one instance, the “So Fetch Edition”.

In commerce, “special editions” have become notable income generators for content providers and the movie business has embraced the concept with editions such as “the making of”, “bloopers & out-takes”, “director’s cut” and others and the idea isn’t new.  Led Zeppelin's eighth studio album (In Through the Out Door (1979)) originally was sold with an outer sleeve of plain brown paper, stamped with nothing more than the while the cardboard sleeve proper within was released with six different versions of the artwork.  Buyers would thus not know which sleeve they were selecting.  There’s nothing to suggest it was anything but a gimmick and neither the band nor the record company were expecting many to keep buying copies in the plain brown wrapped until they’d scored all six covers but there were press reports at the time of “Led Heads”, doing exactly that.  The industry took note.

Taylor Swift's The Anthology, one of 34 available editions of The Tortured Poets Department.

The attraction of releasing multiple versions of essentially the same product with variations restricted to some added content or detail differences in the packaging is that the additional costs in production and distribution are marginal yet there’s sometimes it’s possible to charge a premium for the “non-standard editions”.  The practice had for decades been quite a thing with car manufacturers but the music business came also to like the idea because, unlike with the cars where customers tended to buy one at a time, obsessive fans of musicians might be persuaded they needed several copies of what was essentially the same thing.  Leftist UK student site The Tab noted few music fans were as obsessive as Taylor Swift’s (b 1989) Swifties and, more significantly, they were also impressively numerous and thus an irresistible catchment of disposable income.  What The TAB noted was the almost simultaneous release of a remarkable (and apparently unprecedented) 34 versions of Ms Swift’s eleventh album, The Tortured Poets Department (2024), something which as well as generating revenue has the statistical benefit of afforcing her presence on the charts, every sale counting as a 1.0.  Some were technologically deterministic in than four were released as audio cassettes and nine were exclusively digital but most were essentially the same product except for the inclusion of a bonus track and some were available only through the retailer Target.  The most obsessive Swifties obviously could buy all 34 editions but for those which want just an exhaustive collection of the music, it appeared all was included on the accurately named The Anthology so there was that.  One day, all 34, still (where appropriate) unopened in their original packaging, will begin to appear on auction sites.  The approach attracted some adverse comment (which the Swifties doubtless ignored) and probably confirmed in the mind of J.D. Vance (b 1984; US vice president since 2025) that childless cat ladies are evil.

All editions: The Tab’s The Tortured Poets Department discography:

1. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Manuscript
2. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Albatross
3. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Bolter
4. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Black Dog
5. Standard album and The Manuscript
6. Standard and The Manuscript (signed)
7. Standard and But Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
8. Standard and Guilty As Sin? (Acoustic)
9. Standard and Down Bad (Acoustic)
10. Standard and Fortnight (Acoustic)
11. Standard and Fresh Out The Slammer (Acoustic)
12. Target exclusive with The Albatross
13. Target exclusive with The Bolter
14. Target exclusive with The Black Dog
15. Target exclusive vinyl
16. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing one)
17. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing two)
18. The Albatross vinyl
19. The Bolter vinyl
20. The Black Dog vinyl
21. The Manuscript vinyl
22. The Anthology
23. Standard and The Black Dog ‘voice memo’
24. Standard album and Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me voice memo
25. Standard album and Cassandra voice memo
26. Standard album (digital)
27. Standard album and Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
28. Standard album and loml (live from Paris)
29. Standard album and My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (live from Paris)
30. Standard album and The Alchemy / Treacherous mashup (live from Paris)
31. The Manuscript cassette
32. The Bolter cassette
33. The Albatross cassette
34. The Black Dog cassette

1976 Lincoln Continental Mark IV, Lipstick edition.  The shade of red appears to be close to Dior's lipstick #744 (Party Red).

The car manufacturers have produced at least hundreds of “special editions” and while many of them really weren't “especially special”, they kept returning to the concept because it was lucrative, the things usually profitable to an extent exceeding greatly the nominal sum of their parts.  Quite how many have existed over the years is difficult to estimate because, in addition to the well-documented examples from manufacturers which were sold nationally or even globally, some were offered only briefly or regionally and barely advertised.  Additionally, dealers or sometimes an agglomeration of them would also conjure up their own "special editions" so the total of such things is probably in the thousands.  Sometimes, fashion houses were paid to lend their name, AMC teaming with Pierre Cardin, Levi Strauss (Volkswagen also had a denim-trimmed Beetle though without a specific brand attribution) & Oleg Cassini while the Lincoln Continental at times was offered with themes by Emilio Pucci, Cartier, Bill Blass and de Givenchy although the most memorable were the reputed 500 “Lipstick editions”, a study in red & white, quite a sight given the expanse of sheet metal and leather.

1969 Dodge Charger R/T SE (left), 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (centre left), 1976 Holden HX LE (centre right) and 2002 Mazda Miata Special Edition (MX-5 in some markets) (right).

In most of the “special” editions, offered over the decades, it was only in the advertising or press kits that terms like “special edition” or “limited edition” appeared.  Sometimes though, such physical badges did appear on the vehicles. In the US, on the 1969 Dodge Chargers with the SE option, the badge included both “SE” & “Special Edition” while in Australia, only “SE” appeared on the 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (one of the industry’s longer model names) although the marketing material called it a “Special Edition”, a usage borrowed from the parent corporation in the US and even the badge used was the same part as that which had been stuck on the 1970 Dodge Challenger SE.  Holden’s frankly cynical (but most profitable) 1976 LE spelled out “Limited Edition” under a “LE” (in a larger font) while Mazda used only the full term for the Miata (MX-5) Special Edition models.

Last Call: 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon 170 (with two-piece “underwire”).

Dodge in 2023 embarked on a run of “special editions” on a grand scale, their “Last Call” programme a series of Dodge Challengers & Chargers packaged in a variety of ways but all distinguished by the inclusion of some flavor of Chrysler's third generation HEMI V8 (2003-), the significance of last call being the engine was being withdrawn from use in passenger-cars, a victim of government regulations intended to reduce vehicle emissions.  The programme yielded an array of Chargers & Challengers with specifications (ie horsepower and such) varying from “impressive” to “bonkers” and they were produced in batches of between 100 and 3,300.  The customers responded well with most editions soon “sold out” and, judging from the number with minimal mileage and still in “as delivered” condition which appeared rapidly on auction sites, many had been bought by those expected to “flip” them for profit.  Some did realise gains from the transactions but the market soon cooled, especially for the editions produced in the thousands but how many have been “stashed away” in the hope that years from now there will be those who will pay much, isn't known.

Last Call: 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Black Ghost Special Edition (with one-piece “underwire”).  As well as the impressive engineering, the Last Call programme yielded some unusually long model names.

That strategy may play out well for those speculating on a surge in value in the years to come when, for a certain class of customer, the specifications of a Last Call Dodge will seem intoxicating in a world in which such things have long been extinct.  That was for many the plan but the future has been clouded by Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025), his second administration releasing plans to “roll-back” vehicle emission standards and Chrysler, thus encouraged, announced in 2025 the HEMI V8 would re-appear in passenger vehicles, a decision which wouldn't have much troubled the board because the market has greeted the replacement straight-six engines with restrained enthusiasm.  Doubtless there will be those who noted Chrysler's announcement and, contemplating the thought of their carefully stored Challenger(s) becoming a depreciating asset, will have consulted lawyers to find if grounds for redress exist, the argument being they were “induced” to purchase on the promise of a “last call” being exactly that.  Unfortunately, there is a precedent and it's not encouraging.

Another “last call”: The “last American convertible” ceremony, Cadillac Clark Street Assembly Plant, Detroit, Michigan, 21 April 1976.

In the US, by the late 1960s, sale of convertibles had for years been declining and with the growing volume of government regulations about vehicle safety (which included “roll-over standards”, the industry was working on the assumption the body-style would soon be banned.  Given the declining demand for such things the manufacturers were sanguine about this and even pleased to have something to have to use to “trade off” against regulations they definitely did not want imposed.  By 1975 the Cadillac Eldorado was the only one of the few big US convertibles still available selling in reasonable numbers but the platform was in its final years and with no guarantee a version based on the new, smaller Eldorado (to debut in 1978) would enjoy similar success, General Motors (GM) decided it wasn’t worth the trouble but, sensing a “market opportunity”, promoted the 1976 model as the “Last American convertible”.  Sales spiked, some to buyers who purchased the things as investments, assuming in years to come they’d have a collectable and book a tidy profit on-selling to those who wanted a (no longer available) big drop-top.  Not only did GM use the phrase as a marketing hook; when the last of the 1976 run rolled off the Detroit production line on 21 April, the PR department, having recognized a photo opportunity, conducted a ceremony, complete with a “THE END OF AN ERA 1916-1976”) banner and a “LAST” Michigan license plate.  The final 200 Fleetwood Eldorado convertibles were “white on white on white”, identically finished in white with white soft-tops, white leather seat trim with red piping, white wheel covers, red carpeting & a red instrument panel; red and blue hood (bonnet) accent stripes marked the nation’s bicentennial year.

The “last American convertible” ceremony, Cadillac Clark Street Assembly Plant, Detroit, Michigan, 21 April 1976.

Of course in 1984 a convertible returned to the Cadillac catalogue so some of those who had stashed away their 1976 models under wraps in climate controlled garages weren’t best pleased and litigation ensued, a class action filed against GM alleging the use of the (now clearly incorrect) phrase “Last American Convertible” had been “deceptive or misleading” in that it induced the plaintiffs to enter a contract which they’d not otherwise have undertaken.  The suit was dismissed on the basis of there being insufficient legal grounds to support the claim, the court ruling the phrase was a “non-actionable opinion” rather than a “factual claim”, supporting GM's contention it had been a creative expression rather than a strict statement of fact and thus did not fulfil the criteria for a “deceptive advertising” violation.  Additionally, the court found there was no actual harm caused to the class of plaintiffs as they failed to show they had suffered economic loss or that the advertisement had led them to make a purchase they would not otherwise have made.  That aspect of the judgment has since been criticized with dark hints it was one of those “what’s good for General Motors is good for the country” moments but the documentary evidence did suggest GM at the time genuinely believed the statement to be true and no action was possible against the government on several grounds, including the doctrines of remoteness and unforeseeability.  If HEMI V8 powered coupés and sedans soon re-appear in Dodge's showrooms, it may not be only Greta Thunberg (b 2003) who will be upset.

Limited Edition, less limited profit: The Holden LE

1976 HX Holden LE

By the mid 1970s, the market had come to prefer the cheaper, smaller and easier to use cassette tapes which meant warehouses were soon full of the once desirable 8-track players and buyers were scarce.  In Australia, GMH (General Motor Holden) by 1975 had nearly a thousand in the inventory which also bulged with 600-odd Monaro body-shells, neither of which were attracting customers; fashions change and both had become unfashionable.  Fortunately, GMH was well-acquainted with the concept of the "parts-bin special edition" whereby old, unsaleable items are bundled together and sold at what appears a discount, based for advertising purposes on a book-value retail price there’s no longer any chance of realizing.  Thus created was the high-priced, limited edition LE (which stood for "Limited Edition", the Monaro name appearing nowhere although all seem still to use the name), in metallic crimson with gold pin striping, golf "honeycomb" aluminium wheels, fake (plastic) burl walnut trim and crushed velour (polyester) upholstery; in the 1970s, this was tasteful.  Not designed for the purpose, the eight-track cartridge player crudely was bolted to the console but five-hundred and eighty LEs were made, GMH pleasantly surprised at how quickly they sold with no need to resort to discounting.  When new, they listed at Aus$11,500, a pleasingly profitable premium of some 35% above the unwanted vehicle on which it was based; these days, examples are advertised for sale for (Aus$) six-figure sums and anyone who now buys a LE does so for reasons other than specific-performance.  Although of compact size (in US terms) and fitted with a 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8, it could achieve barely 110 mph (175 km/h), acceleration was lethargic by earlier and (much) later standards yet fuel consumption was high; slow and thirsty the price to be paid for the early implementations of the emission control plumbing bolted to engines designed during more toxic times.      

1971 Holden HQ Monaro LS 350

The overwrought and bling-laden Holden HX typified the tendency during the 1970s and of US manufacturers and their colonial off-shoots to take a fundamentally elegant design and, with a heavy-handed re-style, distort it into something ugly.  A preview of the later “malaise era” (so named in the US for many reasons), it was rare for a facelift to improve the original.  The 1971 HQ Holden was admired for an austerity of line and fine detailing; what followed over three subsequent generations lacked that restraint.  The HX LE was one of a number of "special" and "limited" editions offered during the era and it remains one of the few remembered.

Cape & Cloak

Cape (pronounced keyp)

(1) A sleeveless garment of various lengths, fastened around the neck and falling loosely from the shoulders, worn separately or attached to a coat or other outer garment.

(2) The capa of a bullfighter.

(3) The act of caping.

(4) Of a matador or capeador during a bullfight, to induce and guide the charge of a bull by flourishing a capa.

(5) A piece of land jutting into the sea or some other large body of water; a headland or promontory

(6) In nautical use, of a ship said to have good steering qualities or to head or point; to keep a course.

(7) As The Cape (always initial capital letters), pertaining to the Cape of Good Hope or to (historically) to all South Africa.

(8) To skin an animal, particularly a deer.

(9) To gaze or stare; to look for, search after (obsolete).

1350–1400: From the (northern dialect) Middle English cap, from the Old English cāp, from the Middle French cape & Old Provençal capa, from the Vulgar Latin capum from the Latin caput (head) and reinforced in the sixteenth century by the Spanish capa, from the Late Latin cappa (hooded cloak).  A fork in the Late Old English was capa, & cæppe (cloak with a hood), directly from Late Latin.  In Japanese the word is ケープ (kēpu).  The sense of a "promontory, piece of land jutting into a sea or lake" dates from the late fourteenth century, from the Old French cap (cape; head) from the Latin caput (headland, head), from the primitive Indo-European kaput (head).  The Cape of Good Hope at the southern tip of Africa has been called the Cape since the 1660s, and sailors in 1769 named the low cloud banks that could be mistaken for landforms on the horizon, Cape fly-away.  The obsolete sense of gazing or staring at something & to look for or search after is from the Middle English capen (to stare, gape, look for, seek), from the Old English capian (to look), from the Proto-West Germanic kapēn.  It was cognate with the Dutch gapen, the German gaffen (to stare at curiously) and the Low German gapen (to stare); related to the Modern English keep.

Cardinal George Pell (1941-2023) in Cappa Magna (great cape) with caudatario (train-bearer).  The church's rituals vie with the Eurovison Song Contest and the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras for having the most variety in men's costuming.

Copes are one of many capes in the extensive wardrobe of Roman Catholic clerics and the highlight of any ecclesiastical fashion parade is the silk cappa magna.  Technically a jurisdictional garment, it’s now rarely seen and worn only in processions or when "in choir" (attending but not celebrating services).  Cardinals wear red and bishops violet and both cardinals and papal nuncios are entitled to a cappa magna of watered silk.  Well into the twentieth century, a cappa magna could stretch for nearly 15 metres, (50 feet) but Pius XII’s (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958) motu proprio (literally “on his own impulse”, essentially constitutionally the same as a royal decree which unilaterally creates law) Valde solliciti (1952) laid down that they should not be longer than 7m (23 feet) and later instructions from the Vatican banned them from Rome and curtailed their use elsewhere.  Valde solliciti translates literally as “very worried” and Pius in 1952 was clearly exactly that, concerned at complaints that the extravagance of the Church’s rituals was inappropriate at a time of such troubled austerity.  There was in 1952 still little sign of the remarkable post-war economic recovery which within a decade would be critiqued in Federico Fellini's (1920–1993) film La Dolce Vita (The Sweet Life, 1960).

Actor Anya Taylor-Joy (b 1996) in ankle-length, collared houndstooth cape with matching mini-skirt by Jonathan Anderson (b 1984; creative director of Christian Dior since 2025) over a sleeveless, white, button-down vest and black, stiletto pumps, Paris Fashion Week, October, 2025.

The car is a Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit (1980-1997), the first of the SZ Series platform which would serve the line until 2003.  The Silver Spirit (and the companion LWB (long wheelbase) variant the Silver Spur (1980-2000)) was mechanically little changed from the Silver Shadow (1965-1980) but with styling updated with hints from the still controversial Camargue (1975-1986), a somewhat ungainly two-door saloon designed by Pininfarina which, as an addition to the range which included the conceptually identical Corniche (under various names available since 1966), appeared to have no purpose other than being positioned as the “world’s most expensive car” but that was apparently enough; even in the troubled 1970s, there was a demand for Veblen products.

In the closet: The ensemble awaits.

There were nice touches in the cape, a highlight of the detailing the arpeggiating used for the hem.  In sewing, the arpeggiated stitch is a technique in hand-stitching that creates an invisible and durable finish by catching only a single thread from the main fabric with each stitch.  This demands the hem be folded, turning the garment inside out allowing a hand-held needle to form small, V-shaped stitches by piercing the seam allowance and then the main fabric.  For the necessary robustness to be achieved, the stitching is kept deliberately loose (preventing pulling which would distort the line) with the finished hem pressed and steamed further to conceal the stitch-work.  Obviously labor intensive and therefore expensive to implement, it’s used in garments where the most immaculate finish is desired and although it’s now possible partially to emulate the effect using machine-stitching, the fashion houses know that for their finest, the old ways are best.

Poetry in motion: The lovely Anya Taylor-Joy on the move, illustrating the way the fashion industry cuts its capes to provide a "framing effect" for the rest of the outfit.

Amusingly, although the industry is sensitive to the issue of cultural appropriation (and especially so if matters end up in court), the term “arpeggiated” was “borrowed” from music.  In music, arpeggiate describes the playing of a chord as an arpeggio (the notes of a chord played individually instead of simultaneously, moving usually from lowest to highest but the same word is used whether notes are rising or falling).  It was from the Italian arpeggiare (to play on a harp), the construct being arpa (harp) +‎ -eggiare (a suffix from the Late Latin -izāre and used to form verbs from adjectives or nouns).  The connection comes from the harp’s sound being associated with flowing sequences of notes rather than “block sounds”.  So, the word can be understood as meaning “broken into a rhythmic or sequential pattern, note by note” and the use in sewing (as “arpeggiated stitch”) took the metaphorically from the musical term, referencing a series of short, regularly spaced diagonal or looped stitches that create a flowing, undulating pattern (ie a rising and falling wave-like progression rather than a static block).

Anya Taylor-Joy in cape, swishing around.

Capes often are spoken of as having an “equestrian look” and it’s true capes do have a long tradition on horseback, both in military and civilian use although in fashion the traditional cut of the fabric has evolved into something better thought of as a “framing effect” for what is worn beneath.  That differs from the more enveloping capes worn by those in professions as diverse as cavalry officers and nomadic sheep herders form whom a cape was there to afford protection from the elements and to act as barrier to the dust and mud which is a way of life in such professions.  On the catwalks and red carpets there’s not usually much mud thrown about (other than metaphorically when the “best & worst dressed” lists appear) and the cape is there just for the visual effect.  That effect is best understood on the move because a cape on its hanger is a lifeless thing whereas when on someone walking so it can flow, coming alive; models become expert in exploiting the billowing made possible by the “sail-like” behavior of the fabric when the fluid dynamics of air are allowed to do their stuff.  A skilled model can make a cape swish seductively.

Imelda Marcos (she of “the shoes”, b 1929; First Lady of the Philippines 1965-1986, left) and General Augusto Pinochet (1915-2006; dictator of Chile 1973-1990) at the funeral of Generalissimo Francisco Franco (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975), Plaza de Oriente, Madrid, Spain, 23 November, 1975.  Franco was something of a model for Pinochet in terms of approach to public administration (having tiresome people “disappeared” or taken outside and shot etc) but not so much in sartorial matters, the Caudillo never having shown much fondness for capes.

Franco’s body originally was interred in a granite and marble crypt beneath the basilica floor of Valle de los Caídos (Valley of the Fallen), a mausoleum & memorial site in the Sierra de Guadarrama mountain range close to Madrid, built by order of the Generalissimo at the end of the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939).  The vast structure, officially opened in 1959, was said the government to be a “national act of atonement” and symbol of reconciliation but controversies about the war and Franco’s subsequent dictatorship were only ever suppressed and in the decades after his death the political and legal manoeuvres to remove from public display all the many relics of the glorification of the victory and dictatorship gathered strength.  In October 2019, his remains were exhumed from the mausoleum and re-interred in the Mingorrubio Cemetery in El Pardo, this time in a family crypt, an event which much divided opinion.  The forces unleashed by the civil war and its decades-long aftermath remain a cleavage in Spanish society and political scientists expect the tensions to continue, even after the war passes from living memory.  In his last public speech a few weeks before his death, Franco had warned the country it remained threatened by a conspiracy involving “communists, left-wing terrorists and Freemasons”.

Cloak (pronounced klohk)

(1) A wrap-like outer garment fastened at the throat and falling straight from the shoulders.

(2) Something that covers or conceals; disguise; pretense.

(3) To cover with or as if with a cloak.

(4) To hide; conceal.

(5) In internet use, a text replacement for an IRC user's hostname or IP address, which makes the user less identifiable.

1175–1225: From the Middle English cloke, from the Old North French cloque, from the Old French cloche & cloke (traveling cloak) from the Medieval Latin cloca (travelers' cape), a variant of clocca (bell-shaped cape (literally “a bell”) and of Celtic origin, from the Proto-Celtic klokkos (and ultimately imitative).  The best known mention of cloak in scripture is in 1 Thessalonians 2:5: For neither at any time “vsed wee flattering wordes, as yee knowe, nor a cloke of couetousnesse, God is witnesse”

The cloak was an article of everyday wear as a protection from the weather for either sex in Europe for centuries, use fluctuating but worn well into the twentieth century, a noted spike happening when revived in the early 1800s as a high-collared circular form fashion garment, then often called a Spanish cloak.  The figurative use "that which covers or conceals; a pretext" dates from the 1520s.  The adjectival phrase cloak-and-dagger is attested from 1848, said to be a translation of the French de cape et d'épée, as something suggestive of stealthy violence and intrigue.  Cloak-and-sword was used from 1806 in reference to the cheap melodramatic romantic adventure stories then published, a similar use to the way sword-and-sandals was used dismissively to refer to the many films made during the 1950s which were set during the Roman Empire.  The cloak-room (or cloakroom), "a room connected with an assembly-hall, opera-house, etc., where cloaks and other articles are temporarily deposited" is attested from 1827 and later extended to railway offices for temporary storage of luggage; by the mid twentieth century it was, like power room and bathroom, one of the many euphemisms for the loo, WC, lavatory.  The undercloak was a similar, lighter garment worn for additional protection under the cloak proper.

The cape and the coat worn as cloak.  A caped Hermann Göring (left), photographed on the way to the lavish celebrations the state staged (and paid for) to mark his 45^th birthday, Berlin, January, 1938 (left) and in sable-trimmed coat with Luffwaffe General Paul Conrath (1896–1979), Soviet Union, 1942 (right). Worn over the shoulders, a coat becomes cloak-like.

Ruthless, energetic and dynamic in the early years of Nazi rule, Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) was the driving force in the build-up of the Luftwaffe (the German air force) but as things went from bad to worse as the fortunes of war changed, he became neglectful of his many responsibilities, described in 1945 upon his arrival at the jail attached to the Palace of Justice at Nuremberg as “a decayed voluptuary”.  However, he never lost his love for military decorations & uniforms, designing many of his own to suit the unique rank of Reichsmarschall (a kind of six-star general or generalissimo) he held including some in white, sky blue and, as the allied armies closed in on Germany, a more military olive green.  He became fond of capes (all that material can conceal corpulence) and had a number tailored to match his uniforms, Count Galeazzo Ciano (1903–1944; Italian foreign minister 1936-1944) in January 1942 noting of Göring’s visit to Rome: “As usual he is bloated and overbearing”, two days later adding “We had dinner at the Excelsior Hotel, and during the dinner Goering talked of little else but the jewels he owned.  In fact, he had some beautiful rings on his fingers… On the way to the station he wore a great sable coat, something between what automobile drivers wore in 1906 and what a high-grade prostitute wears to the opera.”

As well as his vividly entertaining diaries, Ciano was noted for having married the daughter of Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943).  The marriage was certainly a good career move (the Italians would joke of the one they called “ducellio”: “the son-in-law also rises”) although things didn’t end well, Il Duce having him shot (at the insistence of Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945), something which over the years must have drawn the envy of many a father-in-law (a sentiment was expressed by Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) who thought his daughters' tastes in men sometimes appalling).  Like the bemedaled Reichsmarschall, the count was also a keen collector of gongs and in 1935, during the Second Italo-Ethiopian War (the last war of conquest in the era of European colonialism which even at the time seemed to many an embarrassing anachronism), Ciano had commanded the Regia Aeronautica's (Royal Air Force) 15^th Bomber Flight (nicknamed La Disperata (the desperate ones)) in air-raids on tribal forces equipped with only primitive weapons, being awarded the Medaglia d'argento al valor militare (Silver Medal of Military Valor), prompting some to observe he deserved a gold medal for bravery in accepting a silver one, his time in the air having but barely & briefly exposed him to risk.

The difference

Lindsay Lohan in Lavish Alice striped cape, June 2015.

There probably was a time when the distinction between a cape and a cloak was well defined and understood but opportunistic marketing practices and a declining use of both styles has seen the meaning blur and, in commerce, perhaps morph.  Described correctly, there are differences, defined mostly by length, style and function and what they have in common is that while there are layered versions, generally both are made from one sheet of fabric and worn draped over the shoulders, without sleeves.  The most obvious difference is in length, capes in general being much shorter than cloaks, the length of a cape usually anywhere from the top of the torso to the hips and rarely will a cape fall past the thighs.  By comparison, even the shortest cloak falls below the knees, many are calf-length at minimum and the most luxurious, floor-length.

Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche full-length hooded cloak in black velvet.

Stylistically, cloaks and capes differ also in aesthetic detail.  Capes typically cover the back and are open and loose in the front, fastening around the neck with a tiny hook or cords that tie together, although in recent years it’s become fashionable to tailor capes with button or zipper closures down the front.  Traditionally too, capes have tended to be more colorful and embellished with decoration, reflecting their origin as fashion items whereas the history of the cloak was one of pure functionally, protection from the weather and the dirt and grime of life.  Some capes even come with a belt looped through them, creating the look of a cinched waist with billowing sleeves.  Cloaks cover the front and back.  They are more streamlined, fitted and tailored than capes and, because of the tailoring, in earlier times, a small number of women in society sometimes wore cloaks styled like a dress, adorned with belts, gloves and jewelry.  This is rarely done today, but a cloak is still dressier than a cape or coat and can be stunning if worn over an evening gown.  As that suggests, the cloak could function as a social signifier of rank or wealth; although worn by all for warmth, a garment of made from an expensive material or lined with silk was clearly beyond what was needed to fend off mud from the street.

Audrey Hepburn (1929–1993) in calf-length cloak over taffeta.

Because of its origins as something protective, hoods are more commonly seen on cloaks; rare on capes which may have a collar for added warmth bit often not even that.  It’s value as a fashion piece aside, a cape’s main function is to cover the back of the wearer, just for warmth.  Because a cape is much shorter than a cloak, slit openings for the arms are not always necessary because arms easily pass through the bottom opening whereas a cloak usually has slit openings for the arms since the length demands it.  Cloaks were supplanted by coats in the post-war years and exist now mostly as a high-fashion pieces, capes in a similar niche in the lower-end of the market.

The cloak as workwear

Cloak and axe of Giovanni Battista Bugatti (1779–1869), official executioner for the Papal States 1796-1864, Criminology Museum of Rome.  Woodcuts and other depictions from the era suggest the blood-red cloak wasn't always worn during executions. 

Giovanni Battista Bugatti began his career at a youthful 17 under Pius VI (1717–1799; pope 1775-1799) and diligently he served six pontiffs before being pensioned off by Pius IX (1792–1878; pope 1846-1878), his retirement induced not by the Holy See losing enthusiasm for the death penalty because one Antonio Balducci succeeded him in the office which fell into disuse only with the loss of the Papal States (756-1870; a conglomeration of territories in the central & northern Italian peninsula under the personal sovereignty of the pope), after the unification of Italy.  Unlike his illustrious predecessor, history has recorded little about Signor Balducci although it’s known he performed his final execution in 1870.  Signor Bugatti was by far the longest-serving of the Papal States’ many executioners and locals dubbed him Mastro Titta, a titular corruption of maestro di giustizia (master of justice) and his 69 year tenure in his unusual role can be accounted for only by either (1) he felt dispatching the condemned a calling or (2) he really enjoyed his work, because his employers were most parsimonious: he received no retainer and only a small fee per commission (although he was granted a small, official residence).  His tenure was long and included 516 victims (he preferred to call them “patients”, the term adopted also by Romans who enjoyed the darkly humorous) but was only ever a part-time gig; most of his income came from his work as an umbrella painter (a part of the labour market which exists still in an artisan niche).  Depending on this and that, his devices included the axe, guillotine, noose or mallet while the offences punished ranged from the serious (murder, conspiracy, sedition etc) to the petty (habitual thieves and trouble-makers).

Cardinal Pietro Gasparri (1852–1934; Cardinal Secretary of State 1914-1930, left) and Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943, right), signing the Lateran Treaty, Lateran Palace, Rome, 11 February 1929.

Although as early as 1786 the Grand Duchy of Tuscany became the first Italian state to abolish the death penalty (torture also banned), the sentence remained on the books in the Papal States; then as now, the poor disproportionately were victims of the sanction, similar (or worse) crimes by the bourgeoisie or nobility usually handled with less severity, “hushed-up” or just ignored, an aspect in the administration of justice not unknown in modern, Western liberal democracies.  With the loss of the Papal States, the pope’s temporal domain shrunk to little more than what lay around St Peter’s Square; indeed between 1870 and the signing of Lateran Treaty (1929) after which the Italian state recognized Vatican City as a sovereign state, no pope left the Vatican, their status as self-imposed prisoners a political gesture.  The Lateran treaty acknowledged the validity of the sentence (Article 8 of the 1929 Vatican City Penal Code stating anyone who attempted to assassinate the pope would be subject to the death penalty) although this provision was never used, tempted though some popes must have been.  Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) in 1969 struck capital punishment from the Vatican's legal code and the last reference to the sanction vanished in 2001 under Saint John Paul II (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005).  Although some states are believed to have (secretly) on the payroll one or more "executioners", retained to arrange assassinations when required, it's not believed the Vatican still has one.