Cosmopolitan

Cosmopolitan (pronounced koz-muh-pol-i-tn)

(1) One free from local, provincial, or national ideas, prejudices, or attachments; an internationalist.

(2) One with the characteristics of a cosmopolite.

(3) A cocktail made with vodka, cranberry juice, an orange-flavored liqueur, and lime juice.

(4) Sophisticated, urbane, worldly.

(5) Of plants and animals, wildly distributed species.

(6) The vanessa cardui butterfly.

(7) A moth of species Leucania loreyi.

1828:  An adoption in Modern English, borrowed from the French cosmopolite (citizen of the world), ultimately derived from the Ancient Greek kosmopolitēs (κοσμοπολίτης), the construct being kósmos (κόσμος) (world) + politēs (πολίτης) (citizen); word being modeled on metropolitan.  The US magazine Cosmopolitan was first published in 1886.  Derived forms (hyphenated and not) have been constructed as needed including noncosmopolitan, subcosmopolitan, ultracosmopolitan, fauxcosmopolitan, anticosmopolitan & protocosmopolitan.  Because cosmopolitanness is a spectrum condition, the comparative is “more cosmopolitan” and the superlative “most cosmopolitan”.  Cosmopolitan is a noun & adjective, cosmopolitanism & cosmopolitanness are nouns, cosmopolitanize is a verb, cosmopolitanist is an adjective (and plausibly a noun) and cosmopolitanly is an adverb; the noun plural is cosmopolitans.

An aspect of Soviet Cold War policy under comrade Stalin

The phrase rootless cosmopolitans was coined in the nineteenth century by Vissarion Belinsky (1811-1848), a Russian literary critic much concerned about Western influences on both Russian literature and society.  He applied it to writers he felt “…lacked Russian national character” but as a pejorative euphemism, it’s now an anti-Semitic slur and one most associated with domestic policy in the Soviet Union (USSR) between 1946 and Stalin's death in 1953.  Comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) liked the phrase and applied it to the Jews, a race of which he was always suspicious because he thought their lack of a homeland made them “mystical, intangible and other-worldly”.  Not a biological racist like Hitler and other rabid anti-Semites, Stalin’s enemies were those he perceived a threat; Leon Trotsky (1879-1940), Grigory Zinoviev (1883–1936) and Lev Kamenev (1883–1936) were disposed of not because they were Jewish but because Stalin thought they might threaten his hold on power although the point has been made that while it wasn’t because he was Jewish that Trotsky was murdered, many Jews would come to suffer because Stalin associated them with Trotsky.

Comrade Stalin signing death warrants.

It was the same with institutions.  He found disturbing the activities of Moscow’s Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC) and did not approve them being accepted by Western governments as representing the USSR.  Further, he feared the JAC’s connections with foreign powers might create a conduit for infiltration by Western influences; well Stalin knew the consequences of people being given ideas; the campaign of 1946-1953 was thus more analogous with the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) opposition to the Falun Gong rather than the pogroms of Tsarist times.  Authoritarian administrations don’t like independent organisations; politics needs to be monolithic and control absolute.  In a speech in Moscow in 1946, he described certain Jewish writers and intellectuals, as “rootless cosmopolitans” accusing them of a lack of patriotism, questioning their allegiance to the USSR.  This theme festered but it was the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, fostering as it did an increased self consciousness among Soviet Jews, combined with the Cold War which turned Stalin into a murderous anti-Semite.

Rootless cosmopolitan Comrade Trotsky, murdered with an ice axe on comrade Stalin's orders.

Before the formation of the state of Israel, Stalin's anti-Semitism was more a Russian mannerism than any sort of obsession.  For years after assuming absolute power in the USSR, he expressed no disquiet at the preponderance of Jews in the foreign ministry and it was only in 1939, needing a temporary diplomatic accommodation with Nazi Germany, that he acted.  Having replaced the Jewish Foreign Commissar, Maxim Litvinov (1876–1951; People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the Soviet Union 1930–1939) with Vyacheslav Molotov (1890-1986; USSR Minister of Foreign Affairs 1939-1949 & 1953-1956), he ordered him to purge the diplomatic corps of Jews, his memorable phrase being "clean out the synagogue".  Concerned the presence of Jews might be an obstacle to rapprochement with Hitler, Stalin had the purge effected with his usual efficiency: many were transferred to less conspicuous roles and others were arrested or shot.

Meeting of minds: Joachim von Ribbentrop (left), comrade Stalin (centre) and comrade Molotov (right), the Kremlin, 23 August 1939.

Negotiations began in the summer of 1939, concluding with German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) leading a delegation to Moscow to meet with Molotov and Stalin.  It proved a remarkably friendly conference of political gangsters and agreement was soon reached, the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact (usually called the Nazi-Soviet Pact or Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact) being signed on 23 August.  The pact contained also a notorious secret protocol by which the two dictators agreed to a carve-up of Poland consequent upon the impending Nazi invasion and the line dividing Poland between the two was almost identical to the Curzon Line, a demarcation between the new Polish Republic created in the aftermath of World War I (1914-1918) and the emergent Soviet Union which had been proposed by Lord Curzon (1859–1925; UK foreign secretary 1919-1924).  At the Yalta Conference in 1945, during the difficult negotiations over Polish borders, Molotov habitually referred to "the Curzon Line" and the UK Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden (1897–1977; thrice UK foreign secretary & prime minister 1955-1957), in a not untypically bitchy barb, observed it was more common practice to call it the “Molotov-Ribbentrop line”.  "Call it whatever you like" replied Stalin, "we still think it's fair and just".  Comrade Stalin rarely cared much to conceal the nature of the regime he crafted in his own image.  When asked by Franklin Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) if Molotov had been to New York during his visit to the US, Stalin replied: "No, he went to Chicago to be with the other gangsters".

Whatever the motives of Stalin, rootless cosmopolitans has joined the code of dog-whistle politics, a part of the core demonology to label the Jews a malign race, a phrase in the tradition of "Christ killers", "Rothschild-Capitalists and Untermenschen (the sub-humans).  Despite that, there are always optimists, Jewish writer Vincent Brook (b 1946), suggesting the term could convey the positive, a suggestion the Jews possess an “adaptability and empathy for others”.  It’s not a view widely shared and rootless cosmopolitan remains an anti-Semitic trope although it's not unknown for Jews to use it ironically.

The Cosmopolitan cocktail

A brace of Cosmos.

The Cosmopolitan was based on the "Cosmopolitan 1934" cocktail, a mix from inter-war New York which included gin, Cointreau & and lemon juice, raspberry syrup lending the trademark pink hue.  The modern Cosmopolitan was also concocted in New York and seems to have appeared first in the Mid-1980s although it was appearances in the HBO (Home Box Office) television series Sex and the City (1998-2004) which made it as emblematic of a certain turn-of-the-millennium New York lifestyle as Manolo Blahnik’s stilettos but, the implications of that connotation aside, the enticing pink drink survived to remain a staple of cocktail lists.  Cosmopolitans can be made individually or as a batch to be poured from a pitcher; just multiply the ingredient count by however many are to be served.

Ingredients

2 oz (¼ cup) vodka (or citrus vodka according to taste)

½ ounce (1 tablespoon) triple sec, Cointreau (or Grand Marnier)

¾ oz (1½ tablespoons) cranberry juice

¼-½ ounce (1 ½-3 teaspoons) fresh lime juice

One 2-inch (50 mm) orange peel/twist

Instructions

(1) Add vodka, Cointreau, cranberry juice, and lime juice to a cocktail shaker filled with ice.

(2) Shake until well chilled.

(3) Strain into a chilled cocktail glass (classically a coupé or Martini glass).

(4) An orange or lemon twist is the traditional garnish.

Notes

(1) As a general principle, the higher the quality of the vodka, the better the Cosmopolitan, the lower priced sprits tending to taste rather more abrasive which for certain purposes can be good but doesn’t suit a “Cosmo”.

(2) The choice of unsweetened or sweetened cranberry juice (the latter sold sometimes as “cranberry juice cocktail”) is a matter of taste and if using the unsweetened most will prefer if a small splash of sugar syrup (or agave) is added because tartness isn’t associated with a Cosmopolitan.

(3) There is however a variant which is sometimes mixed deliberately to be tart.  That’s the “White Cosmo”, made by using white cranberry juice.

(4) Of the orange liqueur: Most mixologists recommend Cointreau but preference is wholly subjective and Cointreau & Grand Marnier variously are used, the consensus being Cointreau (a type of Triple Sec) is smoother, stronger and more complex.  Grand Marnier is also a type of Triple Sec, one combined with Cognac so the taste is richer, nutty and caramelized which some prefer.

(5) Of the lime juice: It really is worth the effort to cut and squeeze a fresh lime.  Packaged lime juice will work but something of the bite of the citrus always is lost in the processing, packaging, storage and transporting the stuff endures.

(6) Art of the orange peel: The use of the term “garnish” of suggests something which is merely decorative: visual bling and ultimately superfluous but because cocktails are designed to be sipped, as one lingers over ones’s Cosmopolitan, from the peel will come a faint orange aroma, adding to the experience as the fumes of a cognac enhance things; spirits and cocktails are “breathed in” as well as swallowed.

(7) Science of the orange peel: When peeling orange, do it over glass so the oil spurting (viewed close-up under high-magnification, it really is more spurt than spray) from the pores in the skin ends up in the drink.  For the ultimate effect, rub the rim of the glass with the peel, down a half-inch on the outside so lips can enjoy the sensation.

The presidential “parade convertible” 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan, parked outside 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington DC.

In the US, the Ford Motor Company (FoMoCo) produced the Lincoln Cosmopolitan between 1949-1954 but only in its first season was it the “top-of-the-range” model, “designation demotion” something which would over the decades become popular in Detroit.  Political legend has it Harry Truman (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953) personally selected Lincoln to supply the presidential car fleet as an act of revenge against General Motors (GM), the corporation having declined to provide him with cars to use during the 1948 election campaign.  It’s assumed GM’s management was reading the polls and assumed they’d need only to wait to wait for a call from president elect Thomas Dewey (1902–1971) but as things turned out, Mr Dewey never progressed beyond president-presumptive so GM didn’t get the commission, the keys to Cadillacs not returning to the Oval Office until the administration of Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989).  While it wouldn’t much have consoled the GM board, there was some of their technology in the Lincolns because, FoMoCo was compelled to buy heavy-duty Hydra-Matic transmissions from Cadillac, their own automatic gearbox not then ready for production.

The presidential “parade convertible” 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan with “Bubbletop” fitted.

The White House leased ten Lincoln Cosmopolitans which were modified by coach-builders who added features such as longer wheelbases and raised roof-lines.  Nine were full-enclosed limousines while one was an armoured “parade convertible” (a “cabriolet D” in the Mercedes-Benz naming system) which was an impressive 20-odd feet (6 metres) in length.  The car used a large-displacement version of the old Ford flathead V8 (introduced in 1932) and weighing a hefty 6,500 lb (2,900 kg), performance wasn’t sparkling but given its role was slowly to percolate along crowd-lined boulevards, it was “adequate.  In 1954, during the administration of Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961), the parade convertible was fitted with a Plexiglas roof (a material the president would have been familiar with because it was used on some World War II (1939-1945) aircraft and in this form the Lincoln came to share the aircrafts’ nickname: “Bubbletop”.  The “Bubbletop” Cosmopolitan remained in service in the White House fleet until 1967.

The Glossies

Lindsay Lohan, Cosmopolitan, various international editions: April, May & June, 2006.

Cosmopolitan Magazine was launched in 1886 as a family journal of fashion, household décor, cooking, and other domestic interests.  It survived in a crowded market but its publisher did not and within two years Cosmopolitan was taken over by another which added book reviews and serialized fiction to the content.  This attracted the specialist house founded by John Brisben Walker (1847-1931), which assumed control in 1889, expanding its circulation twenty-fold to become one of America’s most popular literary magazines.  The Hurst Corporation acquired the title in 1905, briefly adding yellow-journalism before settling on a format focused on short fiction, celebrities and public affairs.  The formula proved an enduring success, circulation reaching two million by 1940 and this was maintained until a decline began in the mid 1950s, general-interest magazines being squeezed out by specialist titles and the time-consuming steamroller of television.

It was the appointment in 1965 of Helen Gurley Brown (1922–2012) as editor which signalled Cosmopolitan’s shift to a magazine focused exclusively on an emerging and growing demographic with high disposable income: the young white women of the baby boom.  In what proved a perfect conjunction, a target market with (1) economic independence, (2) social freedom, (3) an embryonic feminist awareness and (4) the birth control pill, the magazine thrived, surviving even the rush of imitators its success spawned.  Gurley Brown had in 1962 published the best seller advice manual, Sex and the Single Girl and Cosmopolitan essentially, for decades, reproduced variations on the theme in a monthly, glossy package.  It was clearly a gap in the market.  The approach was a success but there was criticism.  Conservatives disliked the choices in photography and the ideas young women were receiving.  Feminists were divided, some approved but others thought the themes regressive, a retreat from the overtly political agenda of the early movement into something too focused on fun and fashion, reducing women yet again to objects seeking male approbation.

Taylor Swift (b 1989), in purple on the cover of Cosmopolitan, December, 2014.

Still published in many international editions, Cosmopolitan Australia was one casualty of market forces, closed after a final printing in December 2018.  However, surprising many, Katarina Kroslakova (b 1978) in April 2024 announced her publishing house KK Press, in collaboration with New York-based Hearst Magazines International, would resume production of Cosmopolitan Australia as a bi-monthly and the first edition of the re-launched version was released in August, 2024.  Other than appearing in six issues per year rather than the traditional twelve, the format remained much the same, echoing Elle Australia which re-appeared on newsstands in March, ending a four-year hiatus.  Both revivals would as recently as 2023 have surprised industry analysts because the conventional, post-Covid wisdom was there existed in this segment few niches for time consuming and expensive titles in glossy print.

Amelia Dimoldenberg (b 1994) in polka-dots, on the cover of Cosmopolitan Australia April | May, 2025 (Issue 5, digital edition) which is downloadable file (96 MB in Adobe's PDF (portable document format) format.  Where digital titles have a history in print, the convention is to use the traditional cover format.  Even in the digital age, some legacy items have a genuine value to be exploited.

Ms Kroslakova clearly saw a viable business model and was quoted as saying print magazines are “the new social media” which was an interesting way of putting it but she explained the appeal by adding: “We need that 15 minutes to drop everything and actually have something tangible and beautiful in our hands to consume.  If we can present content which is multi-layered and deep and has authenticity and connection with the reader – that’s a really excellent starting point.”  She may have a point because in an age where screen-based content is intrinsically impermanent, the tactile pleasure of the traditional glossy may have genuine appeal, at least for an older readership who can remember the way things used to be done, something perhaps hinted at by her “15 minutes” reference, now regarded by many media analysts as a long-term connection given the apparent shortening of attention spans and after all, bound glossy pages are just another technology.  The revival of the print editions of Elle and Cosmopolitan will be an interesting experiment in a difficult economic environment which may get worse before it gets better.  Whether the novelty will attract enough of the "affluent readers" (what used to be called the A1, A2 & B1 demographic) to convince advertisers that it's a place to run their copy will likely decide the viability of the venture and while it's not impossible that will happen, Cosmopolitan is a couple of rungs down the ladder from the "prestige" titles (Vogue the classic mainstream example) which have maintained an advertising base. Cosmopolitan Australia offers a variety of subscription offers, the lowest unit cost available with a two-year, print + digital bundle (12 issues for Aus$105).

Lindsay Lohan on the cover of Cleo: March 2005 (left) and May 2009 (right).

Published in Australia between 1972-2016, Cleo was a monthly magazine targeted broadly at the demographic buying Cosmopolitan.  It was for decades successful and although there was some overlap in readership (and certainly advertising content), there was a perception there existed as distinct species “Cleo women” and “Cosmo women”.  Flicking through the glossy pages, husbands and boyfriends might have struggled to see much thematic variation although it’s likely they looked only at the pictures.  In the same vein, other than the paint, actual Cleo & Cosmo readers mostly probably wouldn’t have noticed much difference between Ford & Chevrolet V8s so it’s really a matter of where one’s interests lie (just because something is sexist stereotyping doesn’t mean it’s not true).  Had the men bothered to read the editorial content, they wouldn’t have needed training in textual deconstruction to detect both titles made much use of “cosmospeak”, a sub-dialect of English coined to describe the jargon, copy style and buzzwords characteristic of post 1950s Cosmopolitan magazine which contributed much to the language of non-academic “lipstick feminism”.  To summarize the market differentiation in women’s magazines, the industry joke was: “Cosmopolitan teaches you how to have an organism”, Cleo teaches you how to fake an organism and the Women’s Weekly teaches you how to knit an organism”.  As a footnote, when in 1983 the Women’s Weekly changed from a weekly to monthly format, quickly rejected was the idea the title might be changed to “Women’s Monthly”.

Martyrdom of the Saints Cosmas and Damian, oil on canvas by Fra Angelico (Guido di Pietro, circa 1395-1455), Musée du Louvre, Paris, France).  Fra was from the Italian frate (monk) and was a title for a Roman Catholic monk or friar (equivalent to Brother).

“Cleo” was a spunky two syllables but “Cosmopolitan” had a time-consuming five so almost universally it was used as “Cosmo”.  In Italy, Cosmo is a male given name and a variant of Cosimo, from the third century saint Cosmas who, with his brother Damian, was martyred in Syria during one of the many crackdowns on Christianity.  The name was from the Ancient Greek κόσμος (kósmos) (order, ordered universe), source of the now familiar “cosmos”.  Cosmas and Damian were Arab physicians who converted to Christianity and while ostensibly they suffered martyrdom for their faith, there may have been a financial motive because the brothers practiced much “free medicine”, not charging the poor for their “cures” so their services were understandably popular and thus a threat to the business model of the politically well-connected medical establishment.  The tension between medicine as some sort of social right and an industry run by corporations for profit has occasionally been suppressed but it’s never gone away, illustrated by the battles fought when the (literally) socialist post-war Labour government (1945-1951) established the UK’s NHS (National Health Service) and the (allegedly) socialist “Obamacare” (Affordable Care Act (ACA, 2010)) became law in the US.  By the twenty-first century, the medical establishment could no longer arrange decapitations of cut-price competitors threatening the profit margins but the conflicts remain, witness the freelancing of Luigi Mangione (1998).

The Mazda Cosmo

1968 Mazda Cosmo 110S (110S the export designation).

Although the Mazda corporation dates from 1920, it was another 40 years before it produced its first cars (one of the tiny 360 cm³ “kei cars” (a shortened form of kei-jidōsha, (軽自動車) (light vehicle)) so the appearance at the Tokyo Motor Show of the Cosmo Sport created quite an impression and that it was powered by a two-rotor Wankel rotary engine produced under licence from the German owners added to international interest.  Over two series, series production lasted from 1967 until 1972 but the intricate design was labour intensive to build and being expensive, demand was limited so in five years fewer than 1,200 were sold.  That makes it more of a rarity than a Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing (the W198, 1,400 of those built 1954-1957) and while Cosmo prices haven’t reached the level of the German car, it is a collectable and a number are now in museums and collections.  Mazda continued to use the Cosmo name until 1996 and while none of the subsequent models were as intriguing as the original, some versions of the JC Series Eunos Cosmo (1990–1996) enjoy the distinction of being the world’s only production car fitted with a three-rotor Wankel engine (the 1969 Mercedes-Benz C111 was a Wankel test-bed). 

1975 Mazda Roadpacer (HJ model)

The Eunos Cosmo was not the only Mazda with a unique place in the troubled history of the Wankel engine, the Roadpacer (1975-1977) also a footnote.  Most Holden fans, as one-eyed as any, don’t have especially fond memories of the HJ (1974-1976) range; usually, all they’ll say is its face-lifted replacement (the HX (1976-1977)), was worse.  With its chassis not including the RTS (radial tuned suspension) which lent the successor HZ (1975-1980) such fine handling and with engines strangled by the crude plumbing used in the era to reduce emissions, driving the HJ or HX really wasn’t a rewarding experience (although the V8 versions retained some charm) so there might have been hope Mazda’s curious decision to use fit their smooth-running, two-rotor Wankel to the HJ Premier and sell it as their top-of-the range executive car might have transformed the thing.  That it did but the peaky, high-revving rotary was wholly unsuited to the relatively large, heavy car.  Despite producing less power and torque than even the anaemic 202 cubic inch (3.3 litre) Holden straight-six it replaced, so hard did it have to work to shift the weight that fuel consumption was worse even than when Holden fitted their hardly economical 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8 for the home market.  Available only in Japan and sold officially between 1975-1977, fewer than eight-hundred were built, the company able to off-load the last of the HXs only in early 1980.  The only thing to which Mazda attached its name not mentioned in their corporate history, it's the skeleton in the Mazda closet and the company would prefer we forget the thing which it seems to think of as "our Edsel".  The Roadpacer did though provide one other footnote, being the only car built by General Motors (GM) ever sold with a Wankel engine.  

The archbishop and the abdication

Archbishop Cosmo Gordon Lang (1932), oil on canvas by Anglo-Hungarian society portraitist Philip Alexius László de Lombos (1869–1937 and known professionally as Philip de László).  Lang was christened Cosmo in honor of the local Laird (in Scotland, historically a feudal lord and latterly the “courtesy title” of an area’s leading land-owner, most prominent citizen etc).  The noun Laird was from the northern or Scottish Middle English lard & laverd (a variant of lord).

Scottish Anglican prelate Cosmo Gordon Lang (First Baron Lang of Lambeth, 1864–1945; Archbishop of York 1908–1928 & Archbishop of Canterbury 1928–1942 was a clergyman with uncompromising views about much.  This type was once common in pulpits and although those of his faction exist still in the the modern Church of England, fearing cancellation, they tend now to exchange views only behind closed doors.  He’d probably be today almost forgotten were it not for an incendiary broadcast he made (as Archbishop of Canterbury and thus spiritual head of the Church of England and the worldwide Anglican community) on BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) Radio on 13 December, 1936, two days after the abdication of Edward VIII (1894–1972; King of the UK & Emperor of India, January-December 1936, subsequently Duke of Windsor).  The address to the nation remains the most controversial public intervention made by a Church of England figure in the twentieth century, judged by many to be needlessly sanctimonious and distastefully personal, its political dimension the least objectionable aspect.

As a piece of text it did have a pleasingly medieval feel, opening with some memorable passages including: “From God he received a high and sacred trust. Yet by his own will he has abdicated” and “It is tragic that the sacred trust was not held with a firmer grip”.  That set the tone although when he said: “There has been much sympathy with the king in his great personal difficulty, and I do not forget how deeply he has touched the hearts of millions with his warm interest in the homes and lives of his people” his large audience may have thought some Christian charity did lurk in the Archbishop’s soul but quickly he let that moment pass, returning to his theme: “The causes which led to the king's decision are fully known to the nation.  But it has been made plain that the reigning sovereign of this country must be one whose private life and public conduct can be trusted to reflect the Christian ideal."

Unlike many modern Archbishops, there was no ambiguity about Lang so in his defense it can be argued he provided the Church with a moral clarity of greater certainty than anything which has in recent decades emanated from Lambeth Palace.  So there was that but by the 1930s the mood of opinion-makers in the UK had shifted and Lang’s text was seen as morally judgmental and the idea Edward VIII had failed not so much as a constitutional monarch but in his divine duty seemed archaic, few in the country framing things as the king’s personal failure before God.  What was clear was old Lang's point Edward’s relationship with a twice-divorced woman disqualified him morally and spiritually from being king which many critics within the church thought a bleak approach to a clergyman’s pastoral role.  In a sermon from the pulpit to the faithful it might have gone down well but as a national address, the tone was misplaced.  In self-imposed exile, privately Edward privately described the broadcast as “a vile and vindictive attack” and in his ghost-written memoirs (A King's Story (1951)), he accused the archbishop of “cruelty”.

Remembered also from the broadcast’s aftermath was a satirical verse printed in Punch by the novelist Gerald Bullett (1893–1958 (who published also under the pseudonym Sebastian Fox)).  Bullet’s included the words “how full of cant you are!”, using “cant” in the sense of “to speak in a manner speak in a hypocritical or insincere), an allusion to Lang signing his documents : “Cosmo Cantuar” (Cantuar the abbreviation for Cantuarium (Latin for Canterbury)):

“My Lord Archbishop, what a scold you are!
And when your man is down, how bold you are!
Of Christian charity how scant you are!
And, auld Lang swine, how full of cant you are!” 

Lapidify

Lapidify (pronounced luh-pid-uh-fahy)

(1) To convert into stone or stony material; to petrify.

(2) To transform a material into something stony.

(3) Figuratively, to cause to become permanent; to solidify.

1620s: From the French lapidifier, from the Medieval Latin lapidificāre, the construct being the Latin lapis (stone) + -ify.  The origin of the Latin lapis is uncertain but there may be a link with the Ancient Greek λέπας (lépas) (bare rock, crag), which was from either the primitive Indo-European lep- (to peel) or a Mediterranean substrate language, most etymologists tending to favor the latter.  The -ify suffix was from the Middle English -ifien, from the Old French -ifier, from the Latin -ificare, from -ficus, from facio, (“make” or “do”).  It was used to produce verbs meaning “to make”; the alternative form was -fy.  The literal synonym in geology is petrify but also used (in various contexts) are set, harden, clarify, solidify, calcify, mineralize & fossilize.  Lapidify, lapidifies, lapidifying & lapidified are verbs, lapidification is a noun and lapidific & lapidifical are adjectives; the noun plural is lapidifications.

Medusa

In Greek mythology, Medusa (from the Ancient Greek Μέδουσα (Médousa), from μέδω (médō) (rule over)) was the youngest of the three Gorgon sisters and among them, the sole mortal.  In the popular imagination it seems to be believed than only the gaze of Medusa had the power to turn men to stone but her sisters Stheno & Euryale also possessed the gift.  The three were the daughters of Phorcys & Ceto who lived in the far west and the heads of the girls were entwined with writhing snakes and their necks protected with the scales of dragons while they had huge, boar-like tusks, hands of bronze and golden wings.  That alone would have made dating a challenge but anyone who had the misfortune to encounter them was turned instantly to stone.  Only Poseidon (god of the sea and one of the Olympians, the son of Cronus & Rhea) didn’t fear their glance because he had coupled with Medusa and fathered a child (in some tales the ghastly Cyclops Polyphemus which wasn’t encouraging but the other Cyclops were about as disagreeable).

Bust of Medusa in marble (1636) by Gianlorenzo Bernini (1598-1680), Museos Capitolinos. Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome, Italy (left) and Lindsay Lohan in Medusa mode, Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen (2004) (right).

Born in great secrecy, Perseus was the son of Zeus & Danae but one day, Danae’s father Acrisius heard the baby’s cry and, enraged that Zeus had seduced his daughter, had mother & child sealed in a wooden chest and cast into the sea; it washed up on the shores of the island of Seriphos, the pair rescued by the fisherman Dictys, brother of the ruling tyrant Polydectes.  When Perseus grew, he was one day one of those at one of Polydectes' banquets and when the guests were asked what gift they would offer their host, all except Perseus suggested horses.  He instead offered to bring to the table the severed head of Medusa.  It’s not clear if this was intended as a serious suggestion (wine may have been involved) but the tyrant insisted, saying that otherwise he would take Danae by force.  Embarking on this unpromising quest Perseus was helped by Hermes & Athena who took him to the Graeae; they showed him the way to the nymphs who lent him winged sandals, a kibisis (the backpack of the gods) and the helmet of Hades which rendered the wearer invisible.  Hermes armed him with the harpe, a sickle made of adamant.

Thus equipped, Perseus and Athena began the hunt for the Gorgons.  Of the three sisters, only Medusa was mortal so the project of decapitation had at least some theoretical prospect of success.  The far west was a bleak and uninviting place to which few travelled and they had little trouble in finding their lair, outside which they lay in wait until the family slept.  After midnight, when Medusa had fallen into a deep slumber, Perseus rose into the air on the nymphs’ winged sandals, and, while Athena held a shield of polished bronze over Medusa so it acted as a mirror, protecting them from her gaze, Perseus wielded his harpe, in one stroke striking head from shoulders.  Instantly, from the bloodied neck sprang Pegasus the winged horse and Chrysaor the giant.  Perseus stashed the severed head in the kibisis and quickly alit for home, pursued by a vengeful Stheno & Euryale but, concealed by the helmet’s cloak of invisibility, he evaded them.  Arriving in Seriphos, he became enraged after discovering Polydectes had attempted to rape Danae who had been compelled to seek refuge at the altars of the gods.  Perseus took Medusa’s head from the backpack and held the visage before Polydectes, lapidifying him in an instant, declaring his rescuer Dictys was now the island’s ruler.  The invaluable accessories he returned to the Nymphs while Athena set the head of Medusa in the middle of her shield, meaning she now possessed the power of lapidification.

Bleak

Bleak (pronounced bleek)

(1) Bare, desolate, and often windswept.

(2) Cold and piercing; raw.

(3) Without hope or encouragement; depressing; dreary.

(4) A number of species of fish, the best known of which is probably the European freshwater fish, Alburnus, having scales with a silvery pigment used in the production of artificial pearls.

(5) Pale (obsolete).

1300-1350: From the Middle English bleke (also bleche, source of the Modern English bleach, and bleike (due to Old Norse), and the earlier Middle English blak & blac (pale, wan), from the Old English blǣc, blǣċ & blāc (bleak, pale, pallid, wan, livid; bright, shining, glittering, flashing) and the Old Norse bleikr (pale, whitish), from the Proto-Germanic blaikaz (pale, shining). It was cognate with the Old Norse bleikja & bleikr (white), the Old High German bleih, the Dutch bleek (pale, wan, pallid), the Low German blek (pale), the German bleich (pale, wan, sallow), the Danish bleg (pale), the Swedish blek (pale, pallid), the Norwegian bleik (pale), the Faroese bleikur (pale) and the Icelandic bleikur (pale, pink).  Akin to bleach, the primitive Indo-European root was bhel- (to shine, flash, burn (also "shining white").  Bleak is a noun & adjective, bleakness a noun, bleakish, bleaker & bleakest are adjectives and bleakly is an adverb; the noun plural (of fish) is bleaks or bleak (especially of a large number).

The original English sense (pale, wan etc) is long obsolete; the meaning modern meaning "bare, windswept" emerging in the 1530s, the figurative sense of "cheerless" first noted circa 1719.  The same Germanic root produced the Middle English blake (pale (bacc in the Old English)), but this fell from use, probably from confusion with blæc (black); the surviving surname “Blake” a demonstration of this, its roots traced variously to both "one of pale complexion" and "one of dark complexion".  Bleak has survived, not in the "pale" sense, but meaning only "bare, barren."  Common related words and synonyms include desolate, austere, dreary, chilly, cold, grim, lonely, harsh, somber, sad, dark, gloomy, dismal, bare, blank, burned, cleared, desert, deserted & exposed.

Jarndyce v Jarndyce,  Court of Chancery

Although now thought a conventional novel, Charles Dickens (1812-1870) published Bleak House in twenty serialized episodes between March 1852 and September 1853, a technique popular at the time.  It’s the recounting of Jarndyce v Jarndyce, a long-running (fictional) case in the Court of Chancery and is a critical satire of the English legal system.

In the novel, the matter of Jarndyce v Jarndyce ran in the Court of Chancery for generations, ending not in resolution but closing only when it was found that legal costs charged over the years had absorbed all the money in the estate.  The legal profession was critical of Bleak House, claiming it was much-exaggerated and hardly typical of the cases heard in Chancery but Dickens’ depiction was not wholly fictional, there being a number of cases which had dragged on for decades, ending, like Jarndyce v Jarndyce, only because legal costs had consumed all the funds which were the source of the original action, two decades-old Chancery cases mentioned in the author's preface as his inspiration.  Nor was Dickens alone in his criticism of this judicial lethargy, many, including some within the profession, had long advocated reform and the author's interest was also personal.  One, he'd worked as a legal clerk and had successfully brought before Chancery an action for breach of copyright but, despite winning the case, had been forced to pay costs because the other party declared bankruptcy.

A bleak visage.

The Court of Chancery (or court of equity) was one half of the English civil justice system, running in parallel with the common-law courts.  Chancery had evolved into a recognizable form in the fourteenth century as a court concerned more with justice and fairness than the rigid and precise rules under which the common-law courts operated, its most famous innovation being the laws of trusts which exist to this day.  However, Chancery’s increasing remit begat its own bureaucratic inertia and as early as the sixteen century the court was criticized for its leisurely pace, long backlogs and high costs; despite sporadic attempts at reform, especially during the early nineteenth century, the problems persisted.  The core of the problem was that every delay in the process meant another fee was charged and those fees were paid to the court's officials, thus providing an economic incentive for them to find reasons for delays.

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

A number of enquiries concluded the difficulties (obvious to all except those benefiting from the system) were structural, the solution: dissolution.  In 1873 and 1875 the Supreme Court of Judicature Acts dissolved the Chancery and created a unified High Court of Justice, with Chancery becoming one of three divisions of the High Court, thus preserving equity as a parallel stream of law but resolving many of the administrative impediments to judicial efficiency.  The reform didn't infect the whole judicial system; even in the twentieth century, the House of Lords once took nearly eighteen years to hand down a decision.  The judicial indolence surprised few, Sir Patrick Dean (1909–1994; UK Ambassador to the US 1965-1969) of the foreign office once noting business in the Lords was often "conducted at a leisurely pace".

Charles Dickens' former "holiday cottage", overlooking Viking Bay in the Kent town of Broadstairs, came to be called Bleak House after the novel was published.  Built in 1801, it's said to be where the author wrote his his eighth novel, David Copperfield  (1849-1850), the manuscript for which reached the publisher with the informative title The Personal History, Adventures, Experience and Observation of David Copperfield the Younger of Blunderstone Rookery (Which He Never Meant to Publish on Any Account).

Sepia

Sepia (pronounced see-pee-uh)

(1) A dark brown pigment obtained from the ink-like secretion of various cuttlefish, often used with brush or pen in drawing.

(2) A drawing made with this pigment.

(3) A photograph or digital image in the tone recognized as “sepia”.

(4) A specific range of shades of brown, which tend to a reddish tincture.

(5) In photography, a print or photograph rendered within this color range, associated especially with early types such as calotype.  Now easily replicated in software, when using physical film stock it can be produced by first bleaching a print (after fixing), then immersing it for a short time in a solution of sodium sulphide or of alkaline thiourea.

(6) Any of several cuttlefish of the genus Sepia, producing a dark fluid used naturally for defense and, by humans, in various mixes of ink (mostly archaic but still used in technical literature).

1821: From the Italian seppia (cuttlefish), from the Latin sēpia, from the Ancient Greek σηπία (sēpía) (cuttlefish (and its secretion)), the origin of which is uncertain, the orthodox explanation being it was from the Ancient Greek σήπειν (sḗpein) (to make rotten) but there are etymologists who suggest while that’s “semantically possible” (on the basis of the “rotten:” smelling ink), it’s may be from a pre-Greek source.  The Greek sḗpein was related to σήψ (sḗps) (a kind of lizard; also a serpent, the bite of which was alleged to cause putrefaction”).  The Greek sēpía was akin to sepsis.  Sepia & sepian are nouns & adjectives and sepialike (also as sepia-like) is an adjectives; the noun plural is sepias.

The use of the word to describe the brown pigment extracted from the secretions of cuttlefish dates from the 1820s and the “brownish” meaning as applied to drawings was first recorded in English in 1863 (originally as “sepia drawing”); it was extended later to photography and film and it remains a motif in “retro” art and verisimilitude in film & television.  Reflecting the influence of Classical & Medieval Latin in the formation of zoological taxonomy, sepia had been used of the cuttlefish as early as the late-fourteenth century but today such use is rare.  The Latin was also the source of words in a number of languages including the Bulgarian се́пия (sépija), the Catalan sèpia, the Esperanto sepio, the Finnish seepia, the French sépia, the Galician sepia, the German Sepia, the Hungarian szépia, the Japanese: セピア色 (sepiairo), the Portuguese sépia, the Romanian sepia, the Russian се́пия (sépija), the Spanish sepia, the Swedish sepia, the Tagalog sepia and the Turkish sepia.  

The noun sepiolite (in mineralogy, a hydrated magnesium silicate, clay mineral used for carving into decorative articles and smoking pipes (known also as meerschaum), from the same etymological origin as sepia, picked up the name because of the resemblance to cuttlebone.  The -lite suffix (when used formally) was a representation of the Ancient Greek λίθος (líthos) (stone) and was appended to form the names of rocks and minerals.  In informal use (in commerce or humorously (and in politics often disparagingly)) it's a phonetic version of “light” in the sense of “smaller, lesser, reduced in weight”; it's used often for cut-down (sometimes free) versions of software, diet drinks etc.

Montage of Lindsay Lohan red-carpet stills, rendered in vintage calotype sepia.

As an adjective sepian (the comparative more sepian, the superlative most sepian) began life meaning (1) of or pertaining to the sepia (in the sense of the cuttlefish or its dark pigment) and (2) of the color (not of necessity produced with the derived ink).  In the post-war Unites States, sepia was adopted to refer to some of those with darker pigmentation of the skin, specifically applied to black Americans or African Americans.  The emergence was because in many parts of the US, use of most offensive of the N-words had become socially less acceptable in many circles and as this disapprobation trickled down the social spectrum, new slurs were created, sepian presumably attractive because of the history as a description of colors of paint, fabrics etc.  It was thus separated from ethnic identity and could thus be defended as wholly neutral in use.  As a term, it was neither sufficiently widely adopted nor endured in use for long enough for any pejorative association to become attached so it never became part of the linguistic treadmill.

Bridget Bardot (b 1934) in sepia, on set in Viva Maria! (1965).

As an artistic device, sepia is sometimes used in film.  In The Wizard of Oz (1939), one of the most famous uses was to contrast the bleak, sepia-toned scenes in Kansas with the vibrant (techni-) color in the Land of Oz.  A different effect was achieved in The Shape of Water (2017) (which is either a fantasy or science fiction (SF) film depending on who is writing the review), the sepia-toned sequences depicting the protagonist's memories and dreams.  Presumably, directors find sepia a useful device because black & white (the other obvious alternative) has through use become vested with connotations, gained not only from of the association with film noir.