Vexillology

Vexillology (pronounced vek-suh-lol-uh-jee)

The study of and the collection of information about flags.

1957 (and in print since 1959): The construct was vexill(um) + -ology.  Vexillum (the plural vexilla) was from the Latin vēxillum (flag, banner), from the Proto-Italic wekslolom (and synchronically a diminutive form of vēlum), from the Proto-Italic wekslom, from the primitive Indo-European wegslom, from weg- (to weave, bind) and cognate with the English wick.  The Latin vexillum translated literally as “flag; banner” but in English was used to mean (1) a flag, banner, or standard, (2) in military use a formation company of troops serving under one standard, (3) the sign of the cross, (4) in botany, the upper petal of a papilionaceous flower and (5) in ornithology, the rhachis and web of a feather taken together.  The suffix -ology was formed from -o- (as an interconsonantal vowel) +‎ -logy.  The origin in English of the -logy suffix lies with loanwords from the Ancient Greek, usually via Latin and French, where the suffix (-λογία) is an integral part of the word loaned (eg astrology from astrologia) since the sixteenth century.  French picked up -logie from the Latin -logia, from the Ancient Greek -λογία (-logía).  Within Greek, the suffix is an -ία (-ía) abstract from λόγος (lógos) (account, explanation, narrative), and that a verbal noun from λέγω (légō) (I say, speak, converse, tell a story).  In English the suffix became extraordinarily productive, used notably to form names of sciences or disciplines of study, analogous to the names traditionally borrowed from the Latin (eg astrology from astrologia; geology from geologia) and by the late eighteenth century, the practice (despite the disapproval of the pedants) extended to terms with no connection to Greek or Latin such as those building on French or German bases (eg insectology (1766) after the French insectologie; terminology (1801) after the German Terminologie).  Within a few decades of the intrusion of modern languages, combinations emerged using English terms (eg undergroundology (1820); hatology (1837)).  In this evolution, the development may be though similar to the latter-day proliferation of “-isms” (fascism; feminism etc).  Vexillology, vexillologist vexillographer, vexillophilia, vexillophile & vexillolatry are nouns, vexillological & vexillologic are adjectives; the most common noun plural is vexillologists.

A vexillographer is one who designs flags, standards & banners, a vexillophile is (1) someone who collects and displays flags and (2) one who studies flags, their history and meaning.  Although there are vexillophiles, there is in medicine no recognized condition known as vexillophilia (which would be a paraphilia describing the sexualized objectification of flags (ie flag) although following the convention established in recent revisions to the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) (DSM-5 (2013) & DSM-5-TR (2022)), the correct clinical description would now be "flag partialism"; vexillophiles anyway prefer to describe themselves as "flag nerds".  Nor is there any record of there being instances of vexillophobia (a morbid fear of flags); there are those opposed to what flags represent  but that's not the same as being a vexillophobe which would be something specific about this type of bunting in general.  In political science, there is the word flagophobe (also as flagphobe), a derogatory term used usually by those on the right (and other nationalists) as a slur suggesting a want of patriotism in an opponent they’ve usually already labelled as “liberal”.  It's based on a metaphorical connection between a national flag and pride in one's country and is thus not a reference to a fear of flags in general.  To vexillize (or vexillate) can mean (1) to gather or to lead an army under a flag, (2) to organize or to lead people under a common cause or goal, (3) to make a flag (sewing, printing, digitally distributing etc), (4) to design a flag or (5) to introduce a specific depiction on a flag.

Wrapped: Vexillologist Lindsay Lohan and the stars & stripes.  The phrase “wrapping themselves self in the flag” is used of politicians who attempt to disguise their self-serving motives by presenting something as being in the national interest or being done for patriotic reasons.  The companion term is “patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel”, a observation made in 1775 by Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) of the hypocrisy of William Pitt (1708-1778 (Pitt the Elder); First Earl of Chatham & UK prime-minister 1766-1768).

Quite when the first flag was flown is not known but so simple is the concept and so minimal the technology required for fabrication that as forms of identification or communication they may have been among the earliest examples of symbolic representation.  Although the nation-state as its now understood is a relatively new creation (barely a thousand years old), prior to that there had for millennia been organized settlements with distinct identities and there is evidence from surviving works of art and drawings that something like a flag existed in the Mediterranean region as long ago as the fourth century BC and it’s possible such things were in use in China even earlier.  The familiar concept of the national flag evolved as the modern nation state emerged in Europe in the late Middle Ages and early modern period and traditionally, Denmark's Dannebrog is cited as the oldest national flag extant, having being in continuous use (though not always as the symbol of state) since the thirteenth century.

An array of Denmark's Dannebrog (usually translated as "the cloth of the Danes") on flagpoles.

The legend is that during a battle on 15 June 1219 in what is modern-day Estonia, the Danish army was on the defensive and defeat seemed imminent when suddenly, a red banner with a white cross fell from the sky.  As a result, the fortunes of war shifted, the Danish army won the battle and Denmark gained a flag.  The implication was of course the symbol was a "sign from God" and countless armies have rallied from difficult positions if soldiers can be persuaded victory can be won "with God on our side". 

Inherently, a small piece of colored glass three metres in the air can have no effect on a passing car yet the use of red, amber & green traffic lights is what makes modern road systems function as efficiently as they do.  They work because people (usually) respond as they should through the lens of semiotics, the signifier being the color of the light, the signified the instructions conveyed (green=”go”; amber=”prepare to stop or proceed with caution” & red=”stop”) and the referent the physical need to go, proceed only with caution or stop.  The power of the glass lies wholly in its symbolism and the implied consequences of ignoring its message.  Flags, mere pieces of fabric, have no inherent political or military force yet have for millennia been among the most valued and contested of symbols; men have died defending pieces of bunting which could have been replaced with a tick of a supply sergeant’s pen, simply because of the symbolism.  Because so much of the structure was fake, symbolism was integral to the appeal of Nazism (and fascism in general) and by the early summer of 1942, on a map, the military position of Nazi Germany looked impressive, its forces still maintaining a presence in North Africa, control extending to the Arctic Circle, most of Western Europe occupied from Norway to the south of France and the territorial gains from Operation Barbarossa (1941) reaching well into the Soviet Union.  However, the map substantially reflected the gains which had been made in 1941 and by mid-1942 it was clear to the German military they had under-estimated the ability of the Soviet armies to absorb losses and recover.  It was clear Germany no longer had the strength successfully to advance along the massive front created by Barbarossa and even Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) realized that, at least temporarily, more modest strategic aims would have to be pursued.

What Hitler set in train was a multi-pronged operation which would have been strategically sound had (1) the resources been available to sustain it and (2) there had not been such a gross under-estimation of the available Soviet military capacity.  Originally, the plan had been to advance on the Caucasus after the encirclement and destruction of the defending forces in the Stalingrad region and the occupation of the city itself.  This was changed, splitting the attacking force to allow the city and the Caucasus simultaneously to be conquered and the area envisaged was vast, including the eastern coast of the Black Sea, the forbidding Caucasian mountain passes and the oil fields of Grozny & Baku, far to the south.  The German generals didn’t need much more than the back of an envelope to work out it simply couldn’t be done and that rather than undertaking sound planning based on reliable intelligence, the Führer was indulging in little more than wishing & guessing.  “Wishing & guessing” was General George Marshall’s (1880–1959; US Army chief of staff 1939-1945) critique of Winston Churchill’s (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) dabblings in military matters and the comment wasn’t unjustified but the difference was that while the Allied high command was able to restrain (and if need be, veto) the prime-minister’s romantic (essentially Napoleonic) adventurism, the Wehrmacht’s generals and admirals had by 1942 long been dominated by Hitler.  The German army was however generally the most effective ground force of the war and remarkably, achieved some early tactical gains but such were the distances involved and the disparity of forces available that the offensive was not only doomed but culminated in the loss of some 230,000 troops at Stalingrad, a calamity from which the army never quite recovered and among the German people damaged the prestige of the regime to an extent no previous setback had done.

Third Reich War Flag, Mount Elbrus, August 1942.

Hitler, at least in 1942, wasn’t delusional and understood he was running a risk but his gambler’s instincts had for twenty years served him well and he still clung to the belief a strength of will could overcome many disadvantages, even on the battlefield.  Early in the war, that had worked when he was facing divided, unimaginative or weak opponents but those days were over and he was well-aware (regardless of what he told the generals) he was playing for high stakes from with a bad hand.  That he was under great pressure and wracked by uncertainty (whatever might have been his outward displays of confidence) was probably the cause of a celebrated over-reaction to what was one of the war’s more trivial incidents: the planting of the Nazi war flag on the peak of Mount Elbrus, at 5,642 m (18,510 feet) the highest point in Europe.  Hitler thought pursuits like mountain climbing and skiing absurd but, like any practical politician, he liked a good photo-opportunity and had in peacetime been pleased to be photographed with those who had raised the swastika on some mountain or other (something which dedicated Nazis had been doing since the 1920s, long before the party in 1933 plotted and swindled their way into office).  On 21 August 1942, the Third’s Reich’s war flag, along with the divisional flags of the 1st and 4th Divisions fluttered in the wind on the roof of Europe and news of the triumph was transmitted to FHQ (Führer Headquarters).

In the throes of the offensive driving towards Stalingrad and the Caucases, the alpine troops who climbed the peak to plant the flag doubtless though they were “working towards the Führer” and providing him a priceless propaganda piece.  They probably expected medals or at least thanks but Hitler was focused on his military objectives and knew he needed every available man to be devoted to his job and upon hearing two-dozen soldiers had decided to ignore their orders and instead climb a hill of no strategic value, just to climb down again, his reaction was visceral, recalled in his memoirs by Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945), then at FHQ:

“I often saw Hitler furious but seldom did his anger erupt from him as it did when this report came in. For hours he raged as if his entire plan of the campaign had been ruined by this bit of sport. Days later he went on railing to all and sundry about “those crazy mountain climbers” who “belong before a court-martial.” They were pursuing their idiotic hobbies in the midst of a war, he exclaimed indignantly, occupying an idiotic peak even though he had commanded that all efforts must be concentrated upon Sukhumi.”

The famous (and subtlety edited) photograph of the Soviet flag being raised over the Reichstag on 30 April 1945 during the Battle of Berlin (actually a staged-shot  taken on 2 May).

The Germans never made it to Sukhumi and the high-altitude sideshow by a handful of troops of course in no way affected the campaign but the reaction at FHQ was an indication of the pressure felt by Hitler.  The planting of a symbolic flag was also though symptomatic of the arrogance which had permeated the German military under the Nazis and it anyway proved a pyrrhic act of conquest, the standard torn down and replaced by the Soviet flag within six months; that the Russian army took the trouble to do that amid the clatter of war illustrates potency of national flags as propaganda devices.  One of the most famous photographs of the conflict was that of the Soviet flag in May 1945 being placed over the Reichstag in Berlin, a symbol of defeat of Nazism.  Interestingly, so important to the Kremlin was the image that the act was actually re-staged the next day, this time with a photographer in place to shoot a roll of film so the perfect shot could be selected and the Russians are not the only ones to have re-staged famous flag raisings.

A banner used in Croatia between 925-1102 (left), the current Croatian flag adopted after independence in 1990 (centre) and the Croatian naval ensign (1990).

One of the most ancient symbols to endure in modern nation flags is the red & white checkered pattern used to this day on the flag of Croatia.  The oldest known example dates from 925 and the pattern was used (with the odd interruption) for centuries, even when the country was a non-sovereign component of supranational states such as the Habsburg Empire.  A red star was used instead when Croatia was a part of comrade Marshall Tito’s (1892-1980) Jugoslavija (Yugoslavia) between 1945-1990 but the red & white checks were restored when independence was regained in 1990.

Applied vexillologist Ivana Knoll at the FIFA World Cup in Qatar.

Noted Instagram influencer Ivana Knoll (b 1992) was a finalist in the Miss Croatia beauty contest in 2016 and for her appearances at the 2022 FIFA World Cup in Qatar, chose a number of outfits using the national symbol of the red and white checkerboard (matching the home strip worn by the team), taken from the Croatian national flag.  By the standards of Instagram, the design of the hoodie she donned for Croatia's game against Morocco at the Al-Bayat stadium wasn't particularly revealing but it certainly caught the eye.  As if Gianni Infantino (b 1970; president of FIFA (Fédération Internationale de Football Association (International Federation of Association Football) since 2016) doesn't have enough to ponder, the former Miss Croatia finalist tagged FIFA in her posts, fearing perhaps the president may not be among her 600,000 Instagram followers and her strategy seems to have had the desired effect although whether the design which, does cover her hair, shoulders and legs really was sufficiently demur to satisfy the local rules may have been contested by some imams.  The guidance provided by FIFA indicated non-Qatari women don’t need to wear the abaya (the long, black robe), tops must cover their midriff and shoulders, and skirts, dresses or trousers must cover the knees and clothing should not be tight or reveal any cleavage.  In accordance with the rules or not, Ms Knoll proved a popular accessory for Qatari men seeking selfies.

Four Citroën GS “Drapeaux” on the 400 metre athletics track at the Olympic Stadium, Munich, FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany) 1949-1990) for the 1971 “The Car Without Borders” press event.

National flags sometimes appear on cars and while that’s done usually with badges, the bunting represented either in the singular (including the Triumph TR6 (1968-1976)) or in multiples for that “international flavour” (such as Cutlass Ciera emblem used by Oldsmobile between the mid-1970s and mid-1990s), in 1971 Citroën used the whole car as a harlequinesque canvas.  Based on mechanically standard GS hatchback and station wagon (Break) models, the flags which adorned the bodywork were those of the twelve nations which participated in voting for the 1971 (ECotY) European Car of the Year, won by the GS.  As well as the four created for the event in Munich, a number of replica GS Drapeaux were built (it’s not clear how many but it may have been as many as 24) for a continent-wide promotional tour, co-ordinated with Citroën dealers.  The voting for the 1971 ECotY was undertaken by a jury of 44 journalists and while not exactly a kind of “automotive Eurovision”, when the numbers were tallied the GS had received a majority in Czechoslovakia, Denmark, the FRG, the Netherlands and the UK, enough to take the title.  The French drapeaux was the plural of drapeau (flag), from the Old French drapel.  In the French dialectical form spoken in Louisiana, a drapeau was a diaper (nappy).

1971 Citroën GS 1220 Club Break in “Drapeaux” trim.

That the ECotY’s jury is made up of specialist automotive journalists has always tended to slant things towards the technically interesting which accounts for winners or place-getters including the NSU Ro80 (1967-1977 and the Wankel-engined winner in 1968 which effectively bankrupted its maker), the Jensen FF (1966-1974 and the first production road car with ABS & AWD (all-wheel-drive and then still called 4WD (four-wheel-drive)) and third in 1967) and the Oldsmobile Toronado (1965-1978 in its original configuration and third in (1966 despite using a 425 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 with FWD! (front-wheel-drive) and being as unsuited to the European market as just about anything ever made)).  The ECotY award winners haven’t always been a success in the market but did reflect the sort of machines which appealed to the particular profile of automotive journalists, a breed quite different from those who actually buy new cars.  Nor were the winners necessarily the “best” (admittedly a difficult quality to define), illustrated by the 1990 award when the outstanding Mercedes-Benz R129 (1988-2001) was runner up to the dreary Citroën XM (1989-2000).  By historic standards the GS (1970-1986) was a pretty good choice because not was it only an inspired design but also one which proved a success over a long period, unlike the runner up Volkswagen K70 (1970-1974) and third-placed Citroën SM (1970-1975).  The K70 had actually been inherited by VW when the moribund NSU was absorbed but the many troubles of the SM contributed to Citroën’s bankruptcy though probably not to the same extent as the GS Birotor (1973-1975 and known also as the CX) which used a Wankel engine. 

Flag of Mozambique (left) and flag of the Hezbollah (right).

The flag of the Hezbollah (right), the public display of which is banned in some jurisdictions where both the organization's political & military wings are listed as "terrorist organizations" includes a depiction of  Kalashnikov AK-47 assault rifle but that of Mozambique (left) is the only national flag to feature the famous weapon and the Africans fixed a bayonet to the barrel which was a nice touch.  Mozambique gained independence from Portugal in 1975 although the flag wasn’t officially adopted until 1983 as a modified version of what was essentially the battle flag of the Frente de Libertação de Moçambique (FRELIMO, the Mozambique Liberation Front, the Marxist (later styled “democratic socialist”) resistance movement which fought a war of liberation (1964-1974) against the Portuguese colonial forces).  Artistically, just as Marxism (notably often in Stalinist form) had been politically influential in post-colonial Africa, the hammer & sickle exerted an artistic appeal.  The flag of Mozambique has an AK-47 crossed by a hoe sitting atop an open book and is the only national flag upon which appears a modern firearm, the handful of others with guns all using historic relics like muskets or muzzle-loaded cannons.  The Angolan flag has a machete crossing a half gear wheel and both these African examples follow the symbolic model of the hammer and sickle, representing variously the armed struggle against repression, the industrial workers and the peasantry.

Pasha

Pasha (pronounced pah-shuh, pash-uh, puh-shah or pur-shaw)

(1) In historic use, a high rank in the Ottoman political and military system, granted usually to provincial governor or other high officials and later most associated with the modern Egyptian kingdom; it should be placed after a name when used as a title, a convention often not followed in the English-speaking world.

(2) A transliteration of the Russian or Ukrainian male given name diminutive Па́ша (Páša).

(3) A surname variously of Islamic and Anglo-French origin (ultimately from the Latin).

(4) In casual use, anyone in authority (used also pejoratively against those asserting authority without any basis); the use seems to have begun in India under the Raj.

(5) As the “two-tailed pasha” (Charaxes jasius), a butterfly in the family Nymphalidae.

1640–1650: From the Turkish pasa (also as basha), from bash (head, chief), (there being in Turkish no clear distinction between “b” & “p”), from the Old Persian pati- (maste), built from the primitive Indo-European root poti- (powerful; lord) + the root of shah (and thus related to czar, tzar, csar, king & kaisar).  The related English bashaw (as an Englishing of pasha) existed as early as the 1530s.  Pasha’s use as an Islamic surname is most prevalent on Indian subcontinent but exists also in other places, most often those nations once part of the old Ottoman Empire (circa 1300-1922) ) including Albania, Republic of Türkiye and the Slavic region.  As a surname of English origin, Pasha was a variant of Pasher, an Anglicized form from the French Perchard, a suffixed form of Old French perche (pole), from the Latin pertica (pole, long staff, measuring rod, unit of measure), from the Proto-Italic perth & pertikā (related also to the Oscan perek (pole) and possibly the Umbrian perkaf (rod).  The ultimate source of the Latin form is uncertain.  It may be connected with the primitive Indo-European pert- (pole, sprout), the Ancient Greek πτόρθος (ptórthos) (sprout), the Sanskrit कपृथ् (kapṛth) (penis) although more than one etymologist has dismissed any notion of extra-Italic links.  Pasha, pashaship & pashadom are nouns and pashalike is an adjective; the noun plural is pashas.  The adjectives pashaish & pashaesque are non-standard but tempting.

Fakhri Pasha (Ömer Fahrettin Türkkan (1868–1948), Defender of Medina, 1916-1919).

In The Struggle for Survival, 1940–1965 (1966) (extracts from the diary of Lord Moran (Charles Wilson, 1882-1977, personal physician to Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955)), there’s an entry in which, speaking of her husband, Clementine Churchill (1885–1977) told the doctor: “Winston is a Pasha.  If he cannot clap his hands for servant he calls for Walter as he enters the house.  If it were left to him, he'd have the nurses for the rest of his life ... He is never so happy, Charles, as he is when one of the nurses is doing something for him, while Walter puts on his socks.”  In his busy youth, Churchill has served as a subaltern in the British Army’s 4th Queen's Own Hussars, spending some two years in India under the Raj; he would have been a natural pasha.

Debut of 928 & the pasha: Ferdinand "Ferry" Porsche (1909–1998) with the Porsche 928 displayed at the Geneva Auto Salon, 17 March, 1977.

The car (pre-production chassis 928 810 0030) was finished in the Guards Red which in the next decade would become so emblematic of the brand and this was not only the first time the pasha trim was seen in public but also the first appearance of the “phone-dial” wheels.  Although the factory seems never to have published a breakdown of the production statistics, impressionistically, the pasha appeared more often in the modernist 924 & 928 than the 911 with its ancestry dating from the first Porsches designed in the 1940s. 

The “Pasha” flannel fabric was until 1984 available as an interior trim option for the 911 (1964-1989), 924 (1976-1988) & 928 (1977-1995) in four color combinations: black & white, black & blue, blue & beige and brown & beige.  Although not unknown in architecture, the brown & beige combination is unusual in fashion and it's doubtful the kit once donned by New Zealand’s ODI (one day international) cricket teams was influenced by the seats of pasha-trimmed Porsches; if so, that was one of the few supporting gestures.

1979 Porsche 930 with black & white pasha inserts over leather (to sample) (left) and 1980 Porsche 928S with brown & beige pasha inserts over brown leather.

It was known informally also as the Schachbrett (checkerboard) but it differed from the classic interpretation of that style because the objects with which the pattern was built were irregular in size, shape and placement.  Technically, although not usually listed as a velvet or velour, the pasha used a similar method of construction in that it was a “pile fabric”, made by weaving together two thicknesses of fine cord and then cutting them apart to create a soft, plush surface, rendering a smooth finish, the signature sheen generated by the fibres reflect light.  It was during its run on the option list rarely ordered and in the Porsche communities (there are many factions) it seems still a polarizing product but while “hate it” crowd deplore the look, to the “love it” crowd it has a retro charm and is thought in the tradition of Pepita (or shepherd’s check), Porsche’s unique take on houndstooth.

Reproduction Porsche pasha fabric available from the Sierra Madre Collection.

There are tales about how Porsche’s pasha gained the name including the opulent and visually striking appearance evoking something of the luxury and flamboyance associated the best-known of the Ottoman-era pashas, much publicized in the West for their extravagant ways.  There seems no basis for this and anyway, to now confess such an origin would see Porsche damned for cultural appropriation and at least covert racism.  It may not be a “cancellation” offence but is trouble best avoided.  Also discounted is any link with lepidopterology for although the “two-tailed pasha” (Charaxes jasius, a butterfly in the family Nymphalidae) is colourful, the patterns on the wings are not in a checkerboard.  Most fanciful is that during the 1970s (dubbed to this day “the decade style forgot” although that does seem unfair to the 1980s), in the Porsche design office was one chap who was a “sharp dresser” and one day he arrived looking especially swish, his ensemble highlighted by a check patterned Op Art (optical art, an artistic style with the intent of imparting the impression of movement, hidden images, flashing & vibrating patterns or swelling & warping) scarf.  The look came to the attention of those responsible for the interiors for the upcoming 928 and the rest is history... or perhaps not.  More convincing is the suggestion it was an allusion to the company’s success in motorsport, a chequered (checkered) flag waved as the cars in motorsport cross the finish-line, signifying victory in an event.  What the pasha’s bold, irregular checkerboard did was, in the Bauhaus twist, create the optical illusion of movement.

Publicity shot for Porsche 911 Spirit 70, released as a 2026 model.

When on the option list, the Pasha fabric was never a big seller but, being so distinctive, memories of it have never faded and it transcended its lack of popularity to become what is now known as “iconic”.  Originally, the use of “iconic” was limited to the small objects of religious significance (most associated with the imagery in Eastern Orthodox Christianity where the concept didn’t always find favour, the original iconoclasts being literally those destroyed icons) and later co-opted for analogous (often secular) use in art history.  It was in the 1960s, perhaps influenced by the depictions in pop-art (many of which were icon-like) of pop culture figures such as Marilyn Monroe (1926–1962) that there meaning shifted to apply to those highly influential, recognizable, or emblematic in some aspect of what was being discussed, be that a look, brand, cultural phenomenon or whatever.  In that sense, Porsche over the years has been associated with a few “iconic” objects including certain wheels, rear spoilers and entire vehicles such as the 911 or 917.  Even before the internet reached critical mass and accelerated the trend, the word was in the 1980s & 1990s a common form but in the twenty-first century such was the overuse the value was diminished and its now not uncommon for it to have to be used with modifiers (genuinely iconic, truly iconic etc).  So, the path has been from sacred to symbolic to cultural to viral to clichéd, and by the 2020s, were something to be described as “totally iconic”, there was a fair chance it would within a week be forgotten.

2026 Porsche 911 Spirit 70.  The Pasha fabric is standard on the door panels and seat cushions but optional for the seat squabs and dashboard (left).  The Pascha-Teppich (Pasha mat) in the frunk is included (right).

Porsche however seems assured the Pasha fabric is part of the company’s iconography and in April 2025 announced the look would be reprised for the 911’s latest Heritage Edition model.  Dubbed the 911 Spirit 70, the name is an allusion to the “company’s design philosophy of the seventies” and that may be something worth recalling for during that “difficult decade”, not only did some of Porsche’s most memorable models emerge but most than most manufacturers of the time, they handled the troubles with some aplomb.  Production of the Spirit 70 will be limited to 1,500 units, all in Olive Neo (a bespoke and (in the right light) untypically vibrant olive) with retro-inspired livery and trimmed in the revived Pasha fabric upholstery (although use on the seat squabs and dashboard is optional).  Mechanically, the car is based on the Carrera GTS Cabriolet, availability of which has spanned a few of the 911’s generations and for those who don’t like the graphics, they’re a delete option.

Lindsay Lohan (during “brunette phase”) in bandage dress in black & white pasha, rendered as an adumbrated pen & ink sketch in monochrome.

Although made with "pasha" fabric, this is not a “pasha-style” dress.  Some purists deny there’s such a thing and what people use the term to describe is correctly an “Empire” or “A-Line” dress, the industry has adopted “pasha” because it’s a romantic evocation of the style of garment often depicted being worn by notables in the Ottoman Empire.  The (Western) art of the era fuelled the popular imagination and it persists to this day, something which was part of the critique of Palestinian-American academic Edward Said (1935–2003) in Orientalism (1978), an influential work which two decades on from his death, remains controversial.  As used commercially, a pasha dress can be any longer style characterized by a flowing silhouette, sometimes with a wrap or corset detailing and so vague is the term elements like ruffles or pagoda sleeves can appear; essentially, just about any dress “swishy” enough to “waft around” dress can plausibly be called a pasha.  Since the symbiotic phenomena of fast-fashion and on-line retailing achieved critical mass, the number of descriptions of garment styles probably has increased because although it's difficult to create (at least for saleable mass-produced products) looks which genuinely are "new", what they're called remains linguistically fertile. 

For the Porsche owner who has everything, maXimum offers “Heel Trend Porche Pasha Socks”, the "Porche" (sic) a deliberate misspelling as a work-around for C&Ds (cease & desist letters) from Stuttgart, a manoeuvre taken also by legendary accumulator of damaged Porsches (and much else), German former butcher Rudi Klein (1936-2001) whose Los Angeles “junkyard” realized millions when the contents were auctioned in 2024.  His “Porsche Foreign Auto” business had operated for some time before he received a C&D from German lawyers, the result being the name change in 1967 to Porche Foreign Auto.  It’s a perhaps unfair stereotype Porsche owners really do already have everything but the socks may be a nice novelty for them.

Chairs, rug & occasional tables in black & white pasha.

A minor collateral trade in the collector car business is that of thematically attuned peripheral pieces.  These include models of stuff which can be larger than the original (hood ornaments, badges and such), smaller (whole cars, go-karts etc) or repurposed (the best known of which are the engines re-imagined as coffee-tables (almost always with glass tops) but there are also chairs.  Ideal for a collector, Porsche dealership or restoration house, one ensemble consisting of two chrome-plated steel framed chairs, a circular rug and brace of occasional tables was offered at auction.  The “Porsche Pasha” chosen was the black & white combo, something which probably would be approved by most interior decorators; with Ferraris there may be “resale red” but with furniture there’s definitely “resale black & white”.

Quincunx

Quincunx (pronounced kwing-kuhngks or kwin-kuhngks)

(1) An arrangement of five objects, in a square or rectangle, one at each corner and one in the middle.

(2) In formal gardening, five plants placed thus as part of a design,

(3) In forestry, as a baseline pattern, five trees planted in such a shape.

(4) In botany, an overlapping arrangement of five petals or leaves, in which two are interior, two are exterior, and one is partly interior and partly exterior (described as a “quincuncial arrangement” of sepals or petals in the bud.

(5) The pattern of the five-spot on dice, playing cards and dominoes.

(6) In the history of numismatics, a bronze coin minted during the Roman Republic, valued at five-twelfths of an as (five times the value of the uncia); it was marked with five dots.

(7) In geometry, an angle of five-twelfths of a circle.

(8) In astrology An angle of five-twelfths of a circle (or 150°) between two objects (usually planets).

1640s: From the Latin quīncunx (the basis for the construct being quīnque +‎ uncia) which translates literally as “five twelfths”, a reference to a bronze coin minted (circa 211–200 BC) with a five dot pattern and issued by the Roman Republic; it was valued at five twelfths of an as (the Roman standard bronze coin).  Descendants from the Latin include the English quincunx, the French quinconce, the German Quinkunx, the Spanish quincunce and the Portuguese quincunce.  Quinque (the numeric five (5)) was from the From Proto-Italic kwenkwe, from the primitive Indo-European pénkwe, the cognates including the Sanskrit पञ्चन् (páñcan), the Ancient Greek πέντε (pénte), the Old Armenian հինգ (hing), the Gothic fimf and the Old English fīf (from which English ultimately gained “five”).  The basis of the construct of the Latin uncia may have been ūnicus (unique) (from ūnus (one), from the primitive Indo-European óynos) in the sense of twelfths making up the base unit of various ancient systems of measurement) +‎ -ia.  Not all etymologists agree and some prefer a link with the Ancient Greek ὀγκία (onkía) (uncia), from ὄγκος (ónkos) (weight).  Uncia was the name of various units including (1) the Roman ounce (one-twelfth of a Roman pound), (2) the Roman inch (one-twelfth of a Roman foot), (3) a bronze coin minted by the Roman Republic (one-twelfth of an as), (a Roman unit of land area (one-twelfth of a jugerum)) and in the jargon of apothecaries became a synonym of ounce (the British & American avoirdupois unit of mass); it was generally a synonym of twelfth.  In algebra, it was a (now obsolete) numerical coefficient in a binomial.  Quīnque was the source of many modern Romance words for “five” including the French cinq and the Spanish cinco; uncia was the source of both “inch” and “ounce”.  Quincunx is a noun, quincuncial is an adjective and quincuncially is an adverb; the noun plural is quincunxes or quincunces.

Quincunx garden, Wyken Hall, Suffolk, England.

When first it entered English in the 1640s, “quincunx” existed only in the vocabulary of astrologers (astrology then still a respectable science) and it was used to describe planetary alignments at a distance of five signs from one another.  By the 1640s it had migrated to mathematics (particularly geometry) where it was used to define “an arrangement of five objects in a square, one at each corner and one in the middle”, familiar in the five pips on a playing card or spots on a di).  In the 1660s (possibly from dice or cards rather than the fortune-tellers), it was picked up by gardeners to describe the layout of a section of a formal garden in which one plant or shrub was placed at each corner of a square or rectangle with a fifth exactly in the centre (an arrangement in two sets of oblique rows at right angles to each other, a sense known also in the original Latin.  In forestry, use began (as a layout tool for new plantings) early in the eighteenth century.

Lindsay Lohan (born 2 July 1986) joins a list of the illustrious with a Mercury Quincunx MC (a planetary alignment where Mercury is 150^o apart from the Medium Coeli (a Latin phrase which translates as “Midheaven” (“MC” in the jargon of astrologers)).  In explaining the significance of the Quincunx MC, the planetary soothsayers note than when two planets lie 150^o apart, “tension is created due to their lack of natural understanding or relation.”  The MC is the point where the cusp of the tenth house is found on a natal (birth) and the MC sign signifies  “one’s public persona”.  Now we know.

Fluffy dice in 1974 Ford Mustang II (left), the color of the dashboard molding emblematic of what was happening in the 1970s.    In continuous production over seven generations since 1964, the Mustang II (1973-1979) is the least fondly remembered iteration (uniquely among Mustangs, in its first season a V8 engine was not even optional) but, introduced some weeks before the first oil embargo was imposed in 1973, it was a great sales success and exceeded the company’s expectations.  Unlike at least some of the models in all other generations, the Mustang II is a classic “Malaise era” car and not a collectable in the conventional sense of the word although they do have a residual value because the front sub-frame with its rack & pinion steering and flexible engine accommodation is prized for all sort of purposes and many have been cannibalized for this assembly alone.  Fluffy dice are available also in designer colors (right) and as well as the familiar dots, there are some with hearts, skulls, handguns, eyes and dollar signs.  Probably, the Mustang II and fluffy dice are a perfect match.

Although the five-dot pattern on a di is known in the industry as the quincunx, the other five faces enjoy rather more prosaic descriptions and most just use the number:

1 (single dot, at the center of the face): The “center dot” or “monad”.

2 (two dots, diagonally opposite each other): The “diagonal pair”.

3 (three dots, forming a diagonal line): The “diagonal trio”.

4 (four dots, arranged in a square pattern: The “square” or “quadrant”.

6 (six dots, arranged in two parallel vertical lines of three dots each): The “double row” or “paired trios”.

US Army five star insignia of (General of the Army) Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961).

The quincunx was one of the layouts considered in 1944 when, for the first time, the US military created five star ranks in the army and navy (there would not be a separate USAF (US Air Force) until 1947).  Eventually a pentagrammatic circle of stars was preferred but the aesthetics of epaulettes were the least of the problems of protocol, the military been much concerned with history and tradition and the tangle wasn’t fully combed out until 1976 when the Congress, the White House, and the Pentagon, acting in succession, raised George Washington (1732–1799; first president of the United States, 1789-1797) to the rank of five star general (he’d retired as a (three star) lieutenant general), back-dating the appointment so he’d for all time be the military’s senior officer.  In 1944, there was also an amusing footnote which, according to legend, resulted in the decision to use the style “general” and not “Marshal” (as many militaries do) because the first to be appointed was George Marshall (1880–1959; US Army chief of staff 1939-1945) and it was thought “Marshal Marshall” would be a bit naff, something Joseph Heller’s (1923-1999) “Major Major” in Catch-22 (1961) would prove.

The quincunx induction system, the Cadillac Le Monstre and the 24 Heures du Mans, 1950

Living up to the name: The 1950 Cadillac Le Monstre.

The two Cadillacs which in 1950 raced at Le Mans were mechanically similar but visually, could have been from different planets.  The more conventional Petit Pataud was a Series 61 coupe with only minor modification and it gained its nickname (the translation “clumsy puppy” best captures the spirit) because to the French it looked a lumbering thing but, as its performance in the race would attest, Cadillac’s new 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre) V8 (which would in modified form grow to 429 cubic inches (7.0 litres) before it was retired in 1967) meant it was faster than it looked.  Underneath the second entrant (Le Monstre obviously needing no translation but used in the sense of “monstrosity” rather than “large”) there was also a Series 61 but the body had been replaced by something more obviously aerodynamic although few, then or now, would call it “conventionally attractive”.  Although Le Monstre seemed very much in the tradition of the “cucumber-shaped” Mercedes-Benz SSKL which had won the 1932 race at Berlin’s unique AVUS circuit, the lines were the result of testing a one twelfth (Uncia in the Latin) scale wooden model in a wind-tunnel used usually to optimize the shape of crop dusters and other slow-flying airplanes.  Presumably that explains the resemblance to a section of an airplane’s wing (a shape designed to encourage lift), something which would have been an issue had higher speeds been attained but even on the long (6 km (3.7 mile)) Mulsanne Straight, there was in 1950 enough power only to achieve around 210 km/h (130) mph although as a drag-reduction exercise it must have contributed to the 22 km/h (13 mph) advantage it enjoyed over Petit Pataud, something Le Monstre’s additional horsepower alone could not have done and remarkably, even with the minimalist aluminium skin it wasn’t much lighter than the standard-bodied coupe because this was no monocoque; the robust Cadillac chassis was retained with a tube-frame added to support the panels and provide the necessary torsional stiffness.

Le Monstre's 331 cubic inch V8 with its unusual (though not unique) five-carburetor induction system in a quincunx layout.

Some of the additional horsepower came from the novel "quincunx" induction system.  Le Monstre’s V8 was configured with five carburettors, the idea being that by use of progressive throttle-linkages, when ultimate performance wasn’t required the car would run on a single (central) carburettor, the other four summoned on demand and in endurance racing, improved fuel economy can be more valuable than additional power.  That’s essentially how most four-barrel carburettors worked, two venturi usually providing the feed with all four opened only at full throttle and Detroit would later refine the model by applying “méthode Le Monstre” to the triple carburettor systems many used between 1957-1971.  As far as is known, the only time a manufacturer flirted with the idea of a five carburetor engine was Rover which in the early 1960s was experimenting with a 2.5 (153 cubic inch) litre in-line five cylinder which was an enlargement of their 2.0 litre (122 cubic inch) four.  Fuel-injection was the obvious solution but the systems then were prohibitively expensive (for the market segment Rover was targeting) so the prototypes ended up with two carburettors feeding three cylinders and one the other two, an arrangement as difficult to keep in tune as it sounds.  Rover’s purchase of the aluminium 3.5 litre (214 cubic inch) V8 abandoned by General Motors (GM) meant the project was terminated and whatever the cylinder count, mass-produced fuel injection later made any configuration possible.  Five carburettors wasn’t actually the highest count seen in the pre fuel-injection era, Ferrari and Lamborghini both using six (done also by motorcycle manufacturers such as Honda and Benelli) and Moto-Guzzi in the 1950s fielded a 500 cm³ Grand-Prix bike with the memorable component count of 8 cylinders, 4 camshafts, 16 valves & 8 carburetors.  The early prototypes of Daimler’s exquisite hemi-head V8s (1959-1969) were also built with eight carburettors because the original design was based on a motorcycle power-plant, the reason why they were planned originally as air-cooled units.

Le Monstre ahead of Petit Pataud, Le Mans, 1950.  At the fall of the checkered flag, the positions were reversed. 

Motor racing is an unpredictable business and, despite all the effort lavished on Le Monstre, in the 1950 Le Mans 24 hour, it was the less ambitious Petit Pataud which did better, finishing a creditable tenth, the much modified roadster coming eleventh having lost many laps while being dug from the sand after an unfortunate excursion from the track.  Still, the results proved the power and reliability of Cadillac’s V8 and Europe took note: over the next quarter century a whole ecosystem would emerge, crafting high-priced trans-Atlantic hybrids which combined elegant European coachwork with cheap, powerful, reliable US V8s, the lucrative fun lasting until the first oil crisis began in 1973.

Intake manifold (5 x 2 barrel) for the first generation (1969-1964) Oldsmobile V8 with Rochester-style carburetor mounting flanges.

A tiny lunatic fringe of the hot rod community did in the 1950s make use of Le Monstre's five-carburetor quincunx atop V8 engines and they were more ambitious still, using two barrel carburettors so that means ten throats for eight cylinders which sounds excessive but, as configured, the arrangement did make sense.  They generally used standard intake manifolds, modified to the extent of retaining the central unit in its stock positing while installing the other four in an extended X, all five often the familiar Rochester 2GC two-barrel.  What all this plumbing and hardware provided was an early form of the variable fuel metering now effortlessly delivered by modern electronic fuel injection in that the centre unit meant relatively economical operation and civilized characteristics for urban use while the four outboard took over under heavy throttle application, each located directly over an intake port for optimal distribution of the fuel air mix.  Synchronising multiple carburetors can of course be challenging when there’s two or three so five sounds worse but the configuration did simplify things because only the central one had to be adjusted for idle and part-throttle use while the outer four were tuned only for high throughput.  There was however the need to engineer a mechanical throttle linkage operating in two planes and while this became for years a common fitting on systems with three two barrels or two four barrels, with five in a quincunx the machinery was bulky and intricate and given the advantages of five turned out to be marginal at best, the idea never caught one and the systems are now just curiosities to be admired by those who adore intricacy for its own sake.

1953 Ford X-100: With roof panel retracted (it was “targa” before told us there were Targas (left), the five carburetor apparatus atop the 317 cubic inch (5.2 litre) Lincoln Y-Block V8 (centre) and the built-in hydraulic jacking system in use (right).

It wasn’t only the one-off Le Mans Cadillac or crazy hot-rodders who took the quincunx path, the apparatus appearing also on the 1953 Ford X-100.  In the years to come, such a thing would be called a “concept car” but that term didn’t then exist so Ford used the more familiar “dream car” and that does seem a more romantic way of putting it.  Reflecting the optimistic spirit of the early post-war years, the X-100 included a number of innovations including the use of radial-ply tyres, a built-in hydraulic jacking system, a rain-sensor which automatically would trigger an electric motor to close the sliding plexiglass roof panel, a built-in dictaphone, a telephone in the centre console and the convenience of heated seats and an electric shaver mounted in the glove compartment.  Some of the features became mainstream products, some not and while the “variable volume horn” wasn’t picked up by the industry, one did appear on the Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100; 1963-1981) although that was a rare supportive gesture.  It was also an age of imaginative labels and Ford called their quincunx induction system the “Multi-Plex”; while the engineering proved a cul-de-sac, the name did later get picked up by multi-screen suburban cinema complexes.  For the X-100, Ford used a central Holly two-barrel while the outer four were Ford model 94 two-barrels.  X-100 still exists and is displayed at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan.

1969 Mercury Marauder X-100.  In 1969, the blacked-out trunk (boot) lid and surrounds was standard on X-100 and optional on other models.  In 1970 it became a “delete option” (an option which seems often to have been exercised).

In a number of quirky coincidences, the name X-100 seems to once have been an industry favourite because as well as the 1953 Ford “dream car”, it was the US Secret Service’s designation for the 1961 Lincoln Continental parade convertible in which John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) was assassinated in Dallas, Texas.  One might have thought that macabre association might have been enough for the “X-100” tag to not again be used but, presumably because the Secret Service’s internal codes weren’t then general public knowledge, in 1969 Ford’s Mercury division released an X-100 as an up-market version of its second generation (1969-1970) Marauder.  Notionally, the X-100 was a “high performance” version but its 365 (gross) horsepower 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 was an option in lesser priced Marauders which meant the X-100, weighed down by the additional luxury fittings, was just a little slower than the cheaper models with the 429.  The market for “full-sized” high performance cars was anyway by 1969 in the final stages of terminal decline and although an encouraging 5635 were sold in 1969, sales the next year fell to 2646 and the X-100 was retired at the end of the 1970 and not replaced.  Most bizarre though was project X-100, a US$75 million (then a lot of what was at the time borrowed money) contract in 1943 awarded to Chrysler to design, machine and nickel-plate the inner surfaces of the cylindrical diffusers required to separate uranium isotopes.  Part of the Manhattan Project which built the world’s first atomic bombs, Chrysler built over 3,500 diffusers used at the plant in Oak Ridge, Tennessee and many were still in service as late as the 1980s.  Not until after the first A-bomb was used against Hiroshima in August 1945 did most of the X-100 project’s workers become aware of the use being made of the precision equipment they were producing.