Caparison

Caparison (pronounced kuh-par-uh-suhn)

(1) A decorative covering for a horse or for the tack or harness of a horse or other animal; trappings (historically applied especially to warhorses).

(2) Rich and sumptuous clothing, ornaments or equipment.

(3) To cover with a caparison (usually in ceremonial military use).

(4) Richly to dress; to deck out.

1585–1595: From the Middle French caparasson (“cloth spread over a saddle” and “personal dress and ornaments”) (which survives in Modern French as caparaçon), from the Old Spanish caparazón (saddlecloth (and akin to capacape)) which may have been from the Old Occitan capairon or perhaps from the augmentative of the Old Provençal caparasso (a mantle with a hood), or the Medieval Latin caparo (a type of cape worn by women (literally "chaperon")).  Caparisoned (the past-participle adjective developed from the verb) dates from circa 1600 and was from the French caparaçonner, from caparaçon.  Even among those who contest the etymology, none appear to deny a link with cape which was from the Middle French cap, from the Occitan cap, from the Latin caput (head).  A doublet of caput, chef and chief (and more distantly of head), as used to describe a "sleeveless cloak, circular covering for the shoulders" which came in the sixteenth century to be regarded as “the Spanish style, it was from the French cape, from the Spanish capa, from the Late Latin cappa (hooded cloak).  In the Late Old English there was capa & cæppe (cloak with a hood) which came directly from the Latin.  Caparison is a noun & verb, caparisoning is a verb, caparisoned is an adjective and although it’s non-standard, caparisonistic would seem useful; the noun plural is caparisons.

Depiction of caparisoned horses in Medieval jousting tournament (left), an example of the use of metal armor with plate croupiere, criniere, and peytral, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, Austria (centre) and a caparisoned goat (a military mascot) at the proclamation of Charles III (b 1948; King of the United Kingdom since 2022) (right).  In modern equestrian management, the functional caparison remains an essential item of equipment and what are usually called horsecloths or horse rugs are sold in a variety of weights (tied to the seasons, the winter versions being heavier than those intended for use in the spring or fall (autumn)) and, depending on need, can be waterproof.  They’re helpful too as protection from wind and even biting insects.

Lindsay Lohan (rendered by Vovsoft as pen drawing) as a knight on her destrier, the caparison cut in the style used in medieval jousting tournaments.  The caparison is in vert with borders sable, fimbriated or and charged with a golden heraldic charge.

Caparisons are now usually decorative and in military use are often decorated with regimental standards or other unit markings.  Their origin however was purely functional and dates from Antiquity as coverings for horses (and, east of Suez, elephants too) to afford the beasts come protection for arrows, bladed weapons etc.  Of course, any sort of layered protection adds weight so whether it’s a truck, a warship or a horse, there are trade-offs, the addition of the protection meaning there’s a reduction in speed, carrying capacity or other measures of performance so the designs varied according to intended purpose, an animal intended for use in knee-to-knee charges fitted with a lighter caparison.  Metal and heavy leather caparisons were not unknown but were quite a burden so most were crafted from a variety of fabrics.  Surprisingly, the material used could be remarkably effective and while not able always to resist penetration, often deflected arrows and blows from swords and lances of delivered at less than an optional angle or very short-range.

Caparisoned: Royal group photograph (from an originally un-published negative used to control for light and angles), one of a session taken to mark the coronation of George VI (1895-1952; King of the UK 1936-1952).

By extension, caparison as both a noun & verb can be used of the rich, sumptuous or elaborately embellished clothing or regalia worn by people or draped over objects.  For the modern coronation ceremonies concocted by the British monarchy (which owe more to Hollywood than actual British tradition), it had become the practice to dress the family in the full panoply of regalia and this is something Charles III apparently indicated he’d like to tone down but his coronation seemed to indicate the views of the courtiers (who enjoy dressing-up like the Spice Girls) and the palace’s media operation (which understands the appeal of spectacle) prevailed.  The generals in the army also relish a good parade.  Appalled at the inter-war suggestion the mechanisation of the army would mean horses would no longer be required, the British politician Duff Cooper (1890-1954) borrowed from a 1926 article by Field Marshal Douglas Haig (Earl Haig, 1861–1928; commander-in-chief of British Army forces on the Western Front 1915-1918), writing approvingly: "There will always be a place in the British Army for a well-bred horse".  Cooper's biography of Haig (in two volumes, 1935-1936) had been commissioned by the executors of the field marshal's estate and although not entirely hagiographic, was certainly generous.  Attending the coronation of Kind Charles were many caparisoned people, horses and goats, mostly well-bred.

Simulacrum

Simulacrum (pronounced sim-yuh-ley-kruhm)

(1) A slight, unreal, or superficial likeness or semblance; a physical image or representation of a deity, person, or thing.

(2) An effigy, image, or representation; a thing which has the appearance or form of another thing, but not its true qualities; a thing which simulates another thing; an imitation, a semblance; a thing which has a similarity to the appearance or form of another thing, but not its true qualities

(3) Used loosely, any representational image of something (a nod to the Latin source).

1590–1600: A learned borrowing of the Latin simulācrum (likeness, image) and a dissimilation of simulaclom, the construct being simulā(re) (to pretend, to imitate), + -crum (the instrumental suffix which was a variant of -culum, from the primitive Indo-European –tlom (a suffix forming instrument nouns).  The Latin simulāre was the present active infinitive of simulō (to represent, simulate) from similis (similar to; alike), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European sem- (one; together).  In English, the idea was always of “something having the mere appearance of another”, hence the conveyed notion of a “a specious imitation”, the predominant sense early in the nineteenth century while later it would be applied to works or art (most notably in portraiture) judged, “blatant flattery”.  In English, simulacrum replaced the late fourteenth century semulacre which had come from the Old French simulacre.  As well as the English simulacrum, the descendents from the Latin simulācrum include the French simulacre, the Spanish simulacro and the Polish symulakrum.  Simulacrum is a noun and simulacral is an adjective; the noun plural is simulacrums or simulacra (a learned borrowing from Latin simulācra).  Although neither is listed, by lexicographers, in the world of art criticism, simulacrally would be a tempting adverb and simulacrumism an obvious noun.  The comparative is more simulacral, the suplerative most simulacral.

Simulacrum had an untroubled etymology didn’t cause a problem until French post-structuralists found a way to add layers of complication.  The sociologist & philosopher Jean Baudrillard (1929-2007) wrote a typically dense paper (The Precession of Simulacra (1981)) explaining simulacra were “…something that replaces reality with its representation… Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being, or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal.... It is no longer a question of imitation, nor duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real.” and his examples ranged from Disneyland to the Watergate scandal.  One can see his point but it seems only to state the obvious and wicked types like Karl Marx (1818-1883) and Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) said it in fewer words.  To be fair, Baudrillard’s point was more about the consequences of simulacra than the process of their creation and the social, political and economic implication of states or (more to the point) corporations attaining the means to “replace” reality with a constructed representation were profound.  The idea has become more relevant (and certainly more discussed) in the post-fake news world in which clear distinctions between that which is real and its imitations have become blurred and there’s an understanding that through many channels of distribution, increasingly, audiences are coming to assume nothing is real.

Mannerist but not quite surrealist: Advertising for the 1961 Pontiac Bonneville Sports Coupe (left) with graphical art by Art Fitzpatrick (1919–2015) & Van Kaufman (1918-1995) and a (real) 1961 Pontiac Bonneville Sports Coupe (right) fitted with Pontiac's much admired 8-lug wheels, their exposed centres actually the brake drum to which the rim (in the true sense of the word) directly was bolted.

The work of Fitzpatrick & Kaufman is the best remembered of the 1960s advertising by the US auto industry and their finest creations were those for General Motors’ (GM) Pontiac Motor Division (PMD).  The pair rendered memorable images but certainly took some artistic licence and created what were even then admired as simulacrums rather than taken too literally.  While PMD’s “Year of the Wide-Track” (introduced in 1959) is remembered as a slogan, it wasn’t just advertising shtick, the decision taken to increase the track of Pontiacs by 5 inches (127 mm) because the 1958 frames were used for the much wider 1959 bodies, rushed into production because the sleek new Chryslers had rendered the old look frumpy and suddenly old-fashioned.  It certainly enhanced the look but the engineering was sound, the wider stance also genuinely improved handling.  Just to make sure people got the message about the “wide” in the “Wide Track” theme, their artwork deliberately exaggerated the width of the cars they depicted and while it was the era of “longer, lower, wider” (and PMD certainly did their bit in that), things never got quite that wide.  Had they been, the experience of driving would have felt something like steering an aircraft carrier's flight deck.

1908 Cadillac Model S: The standard 56 inch (1422 mm) track (left) and the 61 inch (1549 mm) "wide track" (right), the more "sure-footed" stance designed for rutted rural roads.  

Pontiac made much of the “Year of the Wide Track” and it worked so well “wide track” would be an advertising hook for much of the 1960s although the idea wasn’t new, Cadillac in 1908 offering a wide track option for their Model S.  While the four cylinder Cadillacs were coming to be offered with increasingly large and elaborate coachwork, to increase the appeal of the single cylinder, 98 cubic inch (1.6 litre) Model S for rural buyers, there was the option of a 61 inch (1549 mm) track, 5 inches (127 mm) wider than standard.  The extra width was designed exactly to match the ruts in the roads of the rural Southwest, cut by generations of horse-drawn wagons.  Though a thoughtful gesture, times were changing and the 1908 Model S would prove the last single cylinder Cadillac, the corporation the next season standardizing the line around the Model Thirty which upon release would use the 226 cubic inch (3.7 litre) four-cylinder engine although in a harbinger of the 1950s and 1960s, it would be enlarged to 255 cubic inches (4.2 litre) for 1910, 286 cubic inches (4.7 litres) for 1911-1912 and finally 366 cubic inches (6.0 litres) for 1914.  For 1915, there was another glimpse of Cadillac’s path in the twentieth century with the introduction of the Model 51, fitted with the company’s first V8 with a displacement of 314 cubic inches (5.1 litres).  As the photographs suggest, nor was there anything new in the luxurious tufted leather upholstery Detroit in the 1970s came to adore, the style of seating used in the early (“brass era”), up-market automobiles taken straight from gentlemen’s clubs.

Fitzpatrick & Kaufman’s graphic art for the 1967 Pontiac Catalina Convertible advertising campaign.  One irony in the pair being contracted by PMD is that for most of the 1960s, Pontiacs were distinguished by some of the industry’s more imaginative and dramatic styling ventures and needed the artists' simulacral tricks less than some other manufacturers (and the Chryslers of the era come to mind, the solid basic engineering below cloaked sometimes in truly bizarre or just dull  bodywork).

This advertisement from 1961 hints also at something often not understood about what was later acknowledged as the golden era for both the US auto industry and their advertising agencies.  Although the big V8 cars of the post-war years are now remembered mostly for the collectable, high-powered, high value survivors with large displacement and induction systems using sometimes two four-barrel or three two-barrel carburetors, such things were a tiny fraction of total production and most V8 engines were tuned for a compromise between power (actually, more to the point for most: torque) and economy, a modest single two barrel sitting atop most and after the brief but sharp recession of 1958, even the Lincoln Continental, aimed at the upper income demographic, was reconfigured thus in a bid to reduce the prodigious thirst of the 430 cubic inch (7.0 litre) MEL (Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln) V8.  Happily for country and oil industry, the good times returned and by 1963 the big Lincolns were again guzzling gas four barrels at a time (the MEL in 1966 even enlarged to a 462 (7.6)) although there was the courtesy of the engineering trick of off-centering slightly the carburetor’s location so the primary two throats (the other two activated only under heavy throttle load) sat directly in the centre for optimal smoothness of operation.  Despite today’s historical focus on the displacement, horsepower and burning rubber of the era, there was then much advertising copy about (claimed) fuel economy, though while then as now, YMMV (your mileage may vary), the advertising standards of the day didn’t demand such a disclaimer.

Portrait of Oliver Cromwell (1650), oil on canvas by Samuel Cooper (1609-1672).

Even if it’s something ephemeral, politicians are often sensitive about representations of their image but concerns are heightened when it’s a portrait which, often somewhere hung on public view, will long outlive them.  Although in the modern age the proliferation and accessibility of the of the photographic record has meant portraits no longer enjoy an exclusivity in the depiction of history, there’s still something about a portrait which conveys, however misleadingly, a certain authority.  That’s not to suggest the classic representational portraits have always been wholly authentic, a good many of those of the good and great acknowledged to have been painted by “sympathetic” artists known for their subtleties in rendering their subjects variously more slender, youthful or hirsute as the raw material required.  Probably few were like Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) who told Samuel Cooper to paint him “warts and all”.  The artist obliged.

Randolph Churchill (1932), oil on canvas by Philip de László (left) and Randolph Churchill’s official campaign photograph (1935, right).

There have been artists for whom a certain fork of the simulacrum has provided a long a lucrative career.  Philip Alexius László de Lombos (1869–1937 and known professionally as Philip de László) was a UK-based Hungarian painter who was renowned for his sympathetic portraiture of royalty, the aristocracy and anyone else able to afford his fee (which for a time-consuming large, full-length works could be as much as 3000 guineas).  His reputation as a painter suffered after his death because he was dismissed by some as a “shameless flatterer” but in more recent years he’s been re-evaluated and there’s now much admiration for his eye and technical prowess, indeed, some have noted he deserves to be regarded more highly than many of those who sat for him.  His portrait of Randolph Churchill (1911-1968) (1932, left) has, rather waspishly, been described by some authors as something of an idealized simulacrum and the reaction of the journalist Alan Brien (1925-2008) was typical.  He met Churchill only in when his dissolute habits had inflicted their ravages and remarked that the contrast was startling, “…as if Dorian Gray had changed places with his picture for one day of the year.”  Although infamously obnoxious, on this occasion Churchill responded with good humor, replying “Yes, it is hard to believe that was me, isn’t it?  I was a joli garçon (pretty boy) in those days.”  That may have been true for as his official photograph for the 1935 Wavertree by-election (where he stood as an “Independent Conservative” on a platform of rearmament and opposition to Indian Home Rule) suggests, the artist may have been true to his subject.  Neither portrait now photograph seems to have helped politically and his loss at Wavertree was one of several he would suffer in his attempts to be elected to the House of Commons.

Portrait of Gina Rinehart (née Hancock, b 1954) by Western Aranda artist Vincent Namatjira (b 1983), National Gallery of Australia (NGA) (left) and photograph of Gina Rinehart (right).

While some simulacrums can flatter to deceive, others are simply unflattering.  That was what Gina Rinehard (described habitually as “Australia’s richest woman”) felt about two (definitely unauthorized) portraits of which are on exhibition at the NGA.  Accordingly, she asked they be removed from view and “permanently disposed of”, presumably with the same fiery finality with which bonfires consumed portraits of Theodore Roosevelt (TR, 1858–1919; US president 1901-1909) and Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955), both works despised by their subjects.  Unfortunately for Ms Reinhart, her attempted to save the nation from having to look at what she clearly considered bad art created only what is in law known as the “Streisand effect”, named after an attempt in 2003 by the singer Barbra Streisand (b 1942) to suppress publication of a photograph showing her cliff-top residence in Malibu, taken originally to document erosion of the California coast.  All that did was generate a sudden interest in the previously obscure photograph and ensure it went viral, overnight reaching an audience of millions as it spread around the web.  Ms Reinhart’s attempt had a similar consequence: while relatively few had attended Mr Namatjira’s solo Australia in Colour exhibition at the NGA and publicity had been minimal, the interest generated by the story saw the “offending image” printed in newspapers, appear on television news bulletins (they’re still a thing with a big audience) and of course on many websites.  The “Streisand effect” is regarded as an example “reverse psychology”, the attempt to conceal something making it seem sought by those who would otherwise not have been interested or bothered to look.  People should be careful in what they wish for.

Side by side: Portraits of Barak Obama (2011) and Donald Trump (2018), both oil on canvas by Sarah A Boardman, on permanent display, Gallery of Presidents, Third Floor, Rotunda, State Capitol Building, Denver, Colorado.

In March 2025 it was reported Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) was not best pleased with a portrait of him hanging in Colorado’s State Capitol; he damned the work as “purposefully distorted” and demanded Governor Jared Polis (b 1975; governor (Democratic) of Colorado since 2019) immediately take it down.  In a post on his Truth Social platform, Mr Trump said: “Nobody likes a bad picture or painting of themselves, but the one in Colorado, in the State Capitol, put up by the Governor, along with all the other Presidents, was purposefully distorted to a level that even I, perhaps, have never seen before.  The artist also did President Obama and he looks wonderful, but the one on me is truly the worst. She must have lost her talent as she got older.  In any event, I would much prefer not having a picture than having this one, but many people from Colorado have called and written to complain. In fact, they are actually angry about it!  I am speaking on their behalf to the radical left Governor, Jared Polis, who is extremely weak on crime, in particular with respect to Tren de Aragua, which practically took over Aurora (Don’t worry, we saved it!), to take it down. Jared should be ashamed of himself!”

At the unveiling in 2019 it was well-received by the reverential Republicans assembled and if Fox News had an art critic (the Lord forbid), she would have approved but presumably that would now be withdrawn and denials issued it was ever conferred.  

Intriguingly, it was one of Mr Trump’s political fellow-travellers (Kevin Grantham (b 1970; state senator (Republican, Colorado) 2011-2019) who had in 2018 stated a GoFundMe page to raise the funds needed to commission the work, the US$10,000 pledged, it is claimed, within “a few hours”.  Ms Boardman’s painting must have received the approval of the Colorado Senate Republicans because it was them who in 2019 hosted what was described as the “non-partisan unveiling event” when first the work was displayed hanging next to one of Mr Trump’s first presidential predecessor (Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017), another of Ms Boardman’s commissions.  Whether or not it’s of relevance in the matter of now controversial portrait may be a matter for professional critics to ponder but on her website the artist notes she has “…always been passionate about painting portraits, being particularly intrigued by the depth and character found deeper in her subjects… believing the ultimate challenge is to capture the personality, character and soul of an individual in a two-dimensional format...”  Her preferred models “…are carefully chosen for their enigmatic personality and uniqueness...” and she admits some of her favorite subjects those “whose faces show the tracks of real life.”

Variations on a theme of simulacra: Four AI (artificial intelligence) generated images of Lindsay Lohan by Stable Diffusion.  The car depicted (centre right) is a Mercedes-Benz SL (R107, 1971-1989), identifiable as a post-1972 North American model because of the disfiguring bumper bar. 

So a simulacrum is a likeness of something which is recognizably of the subject (maybe with the odd hint) and not of necessity “good” or “bad”; just not exactly realistic.  Of course with techniques of lighting or angles, even an unaltered photograph can similarly mislead but the word is used usually of art or behavior such as “a simulacrum or pleasure” or “a ghastly simulacrum of a smile”.  In film and biography of course, the simulacrum is almost obligatory and the more controversial the subject, the more simulacral things are likely to be: anyone reading AJP Taylor’s study (1972) of the life of Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) would be forgiven for wondering how anyone could have said a bad word about the old chap.  All that means there’s no useful antonym of simulacrum because one really isn’t needed (there's replica, duplicate etc but the sense is different) while the synonyms are many, the choice of which should be dictated by the meaning one wishes to denote and they include: dissimilarity, unlikeness, archetype, clone, counterfeit, effigy, ersatz, facsimile, forgery, image, impersonation, impression, imprint, likeness, portrait, representation, similarity, simulation, emulation, fake, faux & study.  Simulacrum remains a little unusual in that while technically it’s a neutral descriptor, it’s almost always used with a sense of the negative or positive.

Misocapnic

Misocapnic (pronounced miss-oh-kap-nick or migh-soh-kap-nick)

Hating tobacco smoke (the more recent extensions in meaning including “hating those who smoke tobacco” and “hating the tobacco industry”).

1855: A linguistic mongrel, misocapnic was borrowed from Greek and combined with English elements, modelled on a Latin lexical item, the construct being miso- (a combining form of Ancient Greek μῑσέω (mīséō) (to hate) from μῖσος (mîsos) (hatred) which was used to create forms conveying the notion of a “hatred, dislike or aversion” of or to something) + the stem of the Ancient Greek καπνός (kapnós) (smoke) + ‑ic.  The -ic suffix was from the Middle English -ik, from the Old French -ique, from the Latin -icus, from the primitive Indo-European -kos & -ḱos, formed with the i-stem suffix -i- and the adjectival suffix -kos & -ḱos.  The form existed also in the Ancient Greek as -ικός (-ikós), in Sanskrit as -इक (-ika) and the Old Church Slavonic as -ъкъ (-ŭkŭ); A doublet of -y.  In European languages, adding -kos to noun stems carried the meaning "characteristic of, like, typical, pertaining to" while on adjectival stems it acted emphatically; in English it's always been used to form adjectives from nouns with the meaning “of or pertaining to”.  A precise technical use exists in physical chemistry where it's used to denote certain chemical compounds in which a specified chemical element has a higher oxidation number than in the equivalent compound whose name ends in the suffix -ous; (eg sulphuric acid (H₂SO₄) has more oxygen atoms per molecule than sulphurous acid (H₂SO₃)).  Misocapnic is an adjective and misocapnist & misocapnism are nouns; the noun plural is misocapnists.  A person who hates tobacco smoke or smoking (and often smokers) is a misocapnist and if it becomes a calling (noted in “reformed” smokers) they become practitioners of misocapnism.  Misocapnists range from the merely disapproving to the rabid activists, the comparative “more misocapnic”, the superlative “most misocapnic”.

The earliest known use of misocapnic was in the book: A Paper, Of Tobacco: Treating Of The Rise, Progress, Pleasures, And Advantages Of Smoking, With Anecdotes Of Distinguished Smokers (1839) by Joseph Fume (a pseudonym of English writer William Andrew Chatto (1799–1864) (who also published as Stephen Oliver (Junior))).  Noted by scholars as work of genuine interest and now in the public domain (still available in re-print), “Of Tobacco” explored the history, chemistry, and cultural significance of smoking discussing the ceremonial use of tobacco by Native Americans and its introduction to Europe.  It includes also the word “mundungus” (used usually to mean “offal; waste animal product; organic matter unfit for consumption”, it came also to be slang for “poor-quality tobacco with a foul, rancid, or putrid smell”) which was from the Spanish mondongo (tripe, entrails).  The earliest known use of the adjectival form misocapnic was in an 1855 pamphlet by Church of England (broad faction) priest & historian Charles Kingsley (1819–1875), a notorious controversialist.

In the West, anti-smoking measures began seriously to be imposed in the 1980s, displeasing those accustomed to enjoying cigarettes at their desk or while flying on airliners.  That was consequent upon a legal and medical saga which dates from the mid-century, the US Surgeon-General first issuing warnings in the 1960s, trigging the campaign (fought tooth and nail by the tobacco industry) which saw multi-billion dollar settlements imposed.  Opposition to smoking however wasn’t something new, one of the most celebrated of the unimpressed being noted amateur theologian James I (1566–1625) King of Scotland as James VI (1567-1625) & King of England and Ireland as James I (1603-1625) who in 1604 issued his A Counterblaste to Tobacco, one of the earliest diatribes against the habit:

“Have you not reason then to bee ashamed, and to forbeare this filthie noveltie, so basely grounded, so foolishly received and so grossely mistaken in the right use thereof? In your abuse thereof sinning against God, harming your selves both in persons and goods, and raking also thereby the markes and notes of vanitie upon you: by the custome thereof making your selves to be wondered at by all forraine civil Nations, and by all strangers that come among you, to be scorned and contemned. A custome lothsome to the eye, hatefull to the Nose, harmefull to the braine, dangerous to the Lungs, and in the blacke stinking fume thereof, neerest resembling the horrible Stigian smoke of the pit that is bottomelesse…”

Such was the king’s disdain for "the noxious plante" he imposed a heavy excise tax on tobacco imported from the North American colonies (an approach now favoured by Western governments as a public health measure) but within two decades-odd, politics & economics had triumphed, the population’s ever-growing demand for tobacco compelling him to instead create a royal monopoly for the crop.  Over the ensuing centuries, the plant would prove a mainstay of the economy and, via the trade routes secured by the Royal Navy, Great Britain would emerge as tobacco merchant to the world.  The combination of the royal imprimatur and his subjects’ embrace of the addictive habit lent tobacco a respectability which would extend to all classes of society, including (until well into the twentieth century), much of the medical establishment and the alleged medical efficacy had a long history, smoking a pipe at breakfast made compulsory for the schoolboys at London’s Eton College during The Great Plague of 1665, something widely advocated as a defence against “bad air”.

Mid-century cigarette advertising.  Even in the 1950s the public's suspicion that tobacco was a dangerous product was rising and the industry's advertising switched from the traditional "lifestyle" model to one which relied on endorsements by celebrities and scientists and much quoting of research and statistics, much of which would later be wholly debunked.  The tactics and techniques similar to those later adopted by the fossil fuel lobby in their long campaign to discredit the science of human-activity induced climate change. 

One attempt at social engineering began in earnest in the 1980s: Pressure was applied on film & television studios, advertisers and publishers to stop depicting smoking as "attractive, sexy and cool".  Because cigarette smoke is known to be carcinogenic and sustained use typically reduced the human lifespan by about a decade, it was an admirable part of the public health programme but the difficult thing was that images of smoking undeniably could be sexy.  Lindsay Lohan demonstrates.

Billboard “welcoming” visitors to Zion, Illinois, 1919.  Eighty years before the attorneys-general secured the MSA, at least one local government knew smoking was dangerous.  Zion is a township in Lake County, Illinois and it's population in 1919 was declared to be  5460.  Named after Jerusalem's Mount Zion the settlement was founded in 1901 by a faith healer who ran Zion as a personal fiefdom though it later fell into the hands of a proponent of “flat earth theory” who maintained control until forced out when the extent of his corrupt activities became known.    

The industry learned early the value of celebrity endorsement & association, “Prince Albert” tobacco introduced by the RJ Reynolds Tobacco Company in 1907 and named after the prince who would become King Edward VII (1841–1910; King of the UK & Emperor of India 1901-1910) although the myth it was named after heavy smoker Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (1819-1861; consort of Victoria (1819–1901; Queen of the UK 1837-1901)) persists.  Prince Albert tobacco is rated as “high quality” and Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945), on 3 October 1947 (two years into the 20 year sentence he was lucky to receive for war crimes and crimes against humanity) noted with approval in his clandestine prison diary (Spandauer Tagebücher (Spandau: The Secret Diaries) (1975)): “After breakfast my first pipe.  No matter which nation is on duty we receive a tin of American Prince Albert as our weekly ration.”  High quality the Prince Albert may have been but some seven months later he observed “I nearly made myself sick to my stomach breaking in my pipe.”  Still, he kept smoking although it’s not clear if he’d quit the habit when, aged 76, he died in a London hotel room in the company of a woman some decades younger and not his wife.  Lust killed him before the tobacco could.

Although later the industry would use their sponsorship of sport to turn the sporting organizations into “tobacco industry lobbyists”, even before the political pressures appeared, the usefulness of sport as a promotional tool was understood, the Gallaher (to become best known for the “Benson & Hedges” brand) company in 1966 gaining the “naming rights” to the annual 500 mile (805 km) endurance race for what then genuinely were “production cars”, run on the 3.9 mile (6.2 km) Mount Panorama Circuit at Bathurst in Australia.  It’s the race which in 1973 became the Bathurst 1000 (625 miles), the country that year switching to the metric system.  Gallaher took up the event sponsorship to promote their brand but the sales numbers hadn’t much improved after the well-publicized 1966 race so they decided to leverage their money, “suggesting” certain changes to the race rules.

Changings of the guard: The low fuel consumption and tyre wear of the Mini Coopers (1.3 litres (78 cubic inch)) allowed them to take the first nine places at Bathurst in 1966 (left).  In 1967, a convenient rule change transformed the race from one in which economy was the greatest asset to one which put a premium on power & torque, the new XR Falcon GTs (289 cubic inch (4.7 litres)) finishing 1-2 (centre) with the first Mini in fifth, two laps down.  For 1968, Ford increased to XT Falcon GT's displacement to 302 cubic inches (4.9 litres) but were a victim of the power race the company had triggered and their best result was a disappointing seventh place, Holden's new HK Monaro GTS (327 cubic inch (5.3 litres)) taking all podium positions (right).

The Bathurst race then was unusual in that it was a true stand-alone event, neither part of any series nor governed by rules set by the Confederation of Australian Motor Sport (CAMS) or the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (the FIA; the International Automobile Federation (world sport’s dopiest regulatory body)) and in 1966 there was no rule requiring a minimum number of pit stops.  Taking advantage of this were the “giant-killing” Morris Mini Cooper 1275 S, able to run the 500 miles without needing tyre changes and, at most, only one stop for fuel.  Accordingly, although not the fastest machines in a straight line, the Minis filled the first nine places, the only other car in the top ten a 273 cubic inch (4.5 litre) Chrysler Valiant V8 which finished tenth, six laps down on the winner.  Timed at a then impressive 120 mph (193 km/h) down the long Conrod Straight (then without the chicane imposed by the FIA), the Valiant posted competitive lap times but the frequent stops for tyres and fuel (more time-consuming tasks then than now) lent the Minis a significant advantage.

Clockwise from top left: The eight “Gallaher GT” Falcon GTs in corporate livery outside the corporation's Rydalmere facility in Sydney, September 1967; a packet of “Gallaher GTs 20s”; one of the surviving cars after restoration and an image from the 1967 advertising campaign (note the "driving glove" an affectation from the days of open roadsters, sweaty palms & teak-rim steering wheels).

No documents have ever been sighted which prove it was the tobacco company which “suggested” mandating a minimum number of pit-stops but few have doubts and once implemented for the 1967 event, the advantage enjoyed by the small, light, economical cars was negated; not for another 20 years would a four-cylinder car win the race and the Mini remains the only front wheel drive (FWD) vehicle to enjoy a victory.  With this nudge, the planets were thus aligned for Gallaher and their “Gallaher GT” cigarette brand.  As a promotional tie-in, eight of the new 289 cubic inch (4.7 litre) XR Ford Falcon GTs were painted silver to match the cigarette’s packaging and, adorned with corporate livery, issued to the travelling salesmen (and they were then all men) who went forth and promoted.  Other than the paint, the cars were standard except for an alarm system fitted to the boot (trunk) lid; even at 50c a packet, the Falcon could be holding over Aus$3000 in stock (as late as the early 1980s, agents would visit places like sports grounds or shopping centres, handing out free samples of cigarettes).  So the plan was to use the Falcon GT’s victory at Bathurst to promote sales of Gallaher GT cigarettes and part of the plan worked in that the Fords finished first and second but the success didn’t rub off on the fags, the Gallaher GT quietly withdrawn in March 1968, some six months after the chequered flag had been waved at Bathurst, Gallaher leaving to others (like Benson & Hedges, Gallaher holding the UK but not Australian rights to the trademark) the task of getting Australians addicted.  Tobacco advertising finally vanished from Australian race-tracks in 1996 when the federal government imposed a ban.

Sydney Morning Herald “souvenir” front page, 14 March 1983 (left), Benson & Hedges packet with royal warrant (1877-1999, centre) and packet with “B&H coat of arms”, used after the warrant was withdrawn (right).

Gallaher took advantage of the 1983 royal tour of Australia to promote its Benson & Hedges brand, a packet embossed with the royal warrant (indicated by a coat of arms and the title “By appointment to…”) appearing on a “souvenir” front page, Sydney Morning Herald, 14 March 1983.  In 1999, the UK papers reported it was the advocacy of the most misocapnic Prince of Wales (now Charles III (b 1948; King of the United Kingdom since 2022)) which persuaded Elizabeth II (1926-2022; queen of the UK and other places, 1952-2022) to withdraw the royal warrant.

Vermiculate

Vermiculate pronounced ver-mik-yuh-leyt (verb) & ver-mik-yuh-lit or ver-mik-yuh-leyt (adjective)

(1) To work or ornament with wavy lines or markings resembling the form or tracks of a worm.

(2) Worm-eaten, or appearing as if worm-eaten.

(3) Figuratively, of thoughts, insinuating; subtly tortuous.

1595–1605: From the French vermiculaire (plural vermiculaires), from the Latin vermiculātus (in the form of worms; inlaid in wavy lines), past participle of vermiculor (I am full of worms; wormy) & vermiculārī (to be worm-eaten), from vermiculus (little worm; grub; wormlet), from vermis (worm), from the primitive Indo-European root wer (to turn; to bend.  The noun vermiculite describes the micaceous, hydrated silicate mineral and was named in 1814, based on its fibrous nature and the reaction observed when heated, the tendency being to expand into worm-like shapes; vermiculite is used in insulation and as a medium for planting.  Vermiculate, vermiculate & vermiculated are verbs & adjectives, vermiculation & vermiculite is a noun, vermicular & vermiculous are adjectives and vermiculating is a verb; the noun plural is vermiculations.

Lindsay Lohan in Vermiculated Rustication Architecture Socks, rendered by Vovsoft as pen drawing.

The socks (US$18.00) were sold by the UK’s Architecture Foundation to raise money to support ongoing work with comfort, durability and designs referencing architectural details.  The crew length socks (one size fits all) were made by Cooper of Huddersfield.

The adjective vermiculative (tending towards being vermiculated) is non-standard; when vermiculate & vermicular are used to refer to thought processes, the suggestion is of something tortuous, intricate or convoluted.  Other terms often used in this context include circuitous, convoluted, indirect, labyrinthine, meandering, serpentine, twisting, winding, coiled, curly, curved, sinuous, anfractuous, bent, crooked, flexuous, involute, mazy, meandrous & roundabout, all based on the picture of the irregular tunnels worms burrow in soil, the idea being of paths which are far from the shortest distance between the beginning and end of travel.  This is a figurative application of zoological behavior and not a slight on worms which have their own agenda.  Because it's so often used as a slight, it should probably not be used to describe deep or complex thoughts, however vermiculous they might appear.

Vermiculated terracotta block, Standard Oil Company Building, Jackson, Mississippi.

Although most associated with the vermiculated work seen in decorative stone masonry, the irregular grooves intended to resemble worm tracks have interested others including mathematicians and chaos theorists.  Engineers have also explored the idea and during the 1970s, tyres were developed with grooves cut in a random pattern (not to be confused with the asymmetric tread pattern Michelin introduced in (1965) on their XAS) rather than the usual structured geometric layout.  The idea was to lower the harmonic resonances created by the tendency of sound waves to be intensified by the recurring patterns; it was about reducing the noise generated and the theory proved sound, the acoustic difference detectable with the sensitive equipment used in laboratories but in real-world use the difference proved imperceptible.  The tyres were briefly available but, offering no advantage, the concept wasn’t pursued.

York Water Gate, England.

In architectural detailing, vermiculation is a form of surface rustication, used usually to create a decorative contrast between the rusticated work, ordinarily confined to the street level of a building (ie within the usual human field of vision) and the less finely dressed work above.  The effect is created with irregular holes and tracts being carved onto a façade, the purpose inherently decorative although some architects do like the idea of representing worms eating their way through the stone, collapsing a building into rubble and ruin, an allusion to the impermanence of architecture, conveying the message that all that is built must eventually crumble and fall.

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

This notion of unavoidable impermanence has disturbed the minds of the more megalomaniacal in the profession, Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; later, as Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945 turning to war crimes & crimes against humanity) even presenting what he called Die Ruinenwerttheorie (a theory of ruin value) in which he argued it was important the monumental structures then being planned were designed in such as way that, thousands of years hence, as inevitability gradually they collapsed, what remained would be still aesthetically impressive and endure in this form even without maintenance.  Speer’s theory wasn’t new although the spin he felt compelled to attach was inventive.  What he stressed was that buildings designed in accordance with Ruinenwerttheorie were inherently finer works and more imposing during their period of use, an wise thing to emphasize because many less sophisticated types (and there were quite a few) the Führer’s entourage thought appalling the suggestion that anything in their “thousand year Reich” might one day crumble and fall.  Speer however was imagining his reputation surviving well beyond a single millennium and understood the mind of Hitler in such matters, appealing to his vision of what they were creating enduring as monuments to the greatness of the Third Reich, just as the ruins from Ancient Greek and Rome were symbolic of those civilizations.  Hitler concurred with Ruinenwerttheorie after Speer showed him a sketch of one of the gigantic works they planned as an ivy-covered ruin, the drawing very much in the vein of the pictures of Roman ruins well-known to the Führer.  What had scandalized his acolytes, pleased Hitler.

Red carpet vermiculation: Catherine O'Hara (b 1954), Venice International Film Festival, Venice, September 2024 (left) and Emmy Awards, Los Angeles, September 2024.  For red carpet (and related) purposes, the advantage of vermiculated fabric is it can be revealing or demure and, if need be, both within the same garment, the "look" defined merely by adjusting the channel widths.  The fabric used for the dress on the right is a "true vermiculation" in the sense that although an analysis would reveal a repeating pattern, to the naked eye it suggests the irregular tunnels worms burrow in soil.  The one on the left is too regular a pattern to be in the vermiculate class.  

40 Bedford Square, London.

As a form of detailing, vermiculation became prevalent in the mid nineteenth century and in the technical language of architecture is often called vermicelli russification, the patterns typically deployed in stucco on cornerstones or keystones around a doorway, lending a bold textural interest to otherwise unrelentingly standardized surfaces, offering a juxtaposition with forms and lines derived from classical principles.  Although not popular as an embellishment until relatively recent times, the origin of the motif is ancient.  One of the first forms of formal architecture was the clay hut in which wormtracts were visible on the surface, made as the industrious little creatures weaved their way in and out of the earth that made up the structure.  Under the heat of the sun, the clay dried and the patterns set, creating what came to be thought an ornamental effect.  It’s from these modest structures that western architecture picked up the idea while constructing ever larger edifices, the vermiculation contrasting with the smooth, sanitized stone surfaces and becoming part of the grammar of classical buildings.

Irish Stock Exchange, Dublin.

Deconstructionists too have provided their own analysis of vermiculation beyond the relief provided from what can be an austere streetscape, claiming it “…represents a valuable counterpoint to symbolic representations of power and authority that pervade the architecture of many western cities”, one case-study focusing on the Irish Stock Exchange (1859) on Angelsea Street, Dublin which has strips of vermiculation on its granite façade.  That site was said to be a place “...where speculation of financial markets is the day’s work, the pattern might be cast as an unnoticed omen of the neoliberal collapse and loss of Irish economic sovereignty in late 2010”.  That’s probably about as abstract as anthropomorphism in stonework gets but there were in the early twentieth century those who devoted some effort to finding hidden meanings in the vermiculated patterns on the facades on Masonic lodges.  The findings were either never published or suppressed by the Freemasons.