Tuft

Tuft (pronounced tuhft)

(1) A bunch or cluster of small, usually soft and flexible parts, as feathers or hairs, attached or fixed closely together at the base and loose at the upper ends.

(2) A cluster of short, fluffy threads, used to decorate cloth, as for a bedspread, robe, bath mat, or window curtain.

(3) A cluster of cut threads, used as a decorative finish attached to the tying or holding threads of mattresses, quilts, upholstery, etc.

(4) To furnish or decorate with a tuft or tufts; to arrange in a tuft or tufts.

(5) In the upholstery trade, to draw together (a cushion or the like) by passing a thread through at regular intervals, the depressions thus produced being usually ornamented with tufts or buttons.  Tufts are not merely decorative because they secure and strengthen mattresses, quilts, cushions etc; they act to hinder the movement of the stuffing.

(6) In botany, a small clump of trees or bushes.

(7) A gold tassel on the cap once worn by titled undergraduates at English universities, one of the more blatant class identifiers if the UK’s class system; the word tuft was also applied to those entitled to wear such as tassel and from this use evolved the slang "toff".

1350-1400: From the Middle English toft & tofte (bunch of soft and flexible things fixed at the base with the upper ends loose), an alteration of earlier tuffe (which endures in the Modern English tuff), from the Old French touffe, tuffe, toffe & tofe (tuft of hair (and source of the modern French touffe)), from the Late Latin tufa (a crest on a helmet (also found in Late Greek toupha) and probably of Germanic origin (the Old High German was zopf and the Old Norse was toppr (tuft, summit).  The earlier European forms were the Old English þūf (tuft), the Old Norse þúfa (mound), the Swedish tuva (tussock; grassy hillock), from the Proto-Germanic þūbǭ (tube) & þūbaz.  It was akin to the Latin tūber (hump, swelling) and the Ancient Greek τῡ́φη (tū́phē) (cattail (used to stuff beds)).  The excrescent t (as in against) was an English addition and tuft was used as a verb from the 1530s.  In some contexts, bunch, cluster, collection, cowlick, group, knot, plumage, ruff, shock, topknot & tussock can impart a similar meaning but tuft is better for its specific purpose.  Tuft & tufting are nouns & verbs, tufted is a verb & adjective, tufter is a noun, tuftier & tuftiest are adjectives, tufty is a noun & adjective and tuftily is an adverb; the noun plural is tufts.

Little Miss Muffet in Hell (left) and with MWC's (Motor Wheel Corporation) Spyder wheel (right).  Because the use by European manufacturers lent the spelling "spyder with a y" a tinge of the exotic, it was used in US commerce, MWC of Lansing Michigan dubbing one of their "jellybean style" wheels thus.  The wheel, produced in the early 1970s, used the then popular technique of combining a styled aluminun center with a chromed steel rim.  MWC's wheels were highly regarded for quality and the Spyder was produced for use with disc or drum brakes.  Note the latter day Little Miss Muffet's strategic positioning of the tip of the tongue. 

The 1550s noun tuffet (little tuft) was from the Old French touffel (the diminutive suffix -et replacing the French -el) which was a diminutive of touffe.  In English the word is obsolete except for the use in the nursery rhyme Little Miss Muffet which seems first to have appeared in print in 1805 although it (and variations) may have been circulating much earlier.  Etymologists believe Little Miss Muffet’s tuffet was a grassy hillock or a small knoll in the ground (a variant spelling of an obsolete meaning of tuft).  The latter-day use to refer to a hassock or footstool is an example of how (usually obscure) words can acquire meanings if erroneous definitions are often repeated and come to serve some purpose.  Tuffet for example became a favorite of antique dealers who are apt to call both footstools and low seats “tuffets”, a handy practice perhaps when provenance is doubtful.

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
There came a big spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

Those whose fear of spiders (and other arachnids, such as scorpions and ticks) is so severe as to adversely affect normal life are said to be arachnophobic.  Although one of the most commonly described anxiety disorders, in the current edition (DSM-5-TR) of the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), arachnophobia is not a diagnostic category but is classified as a sub-type of Specific Phobia, Animal Type, a clinical diagnosis typically described as “Specific Phobia, Animal Type (spiders)”.  The DSM’s criteria for a specific phobia include (1) marked fear or anxiety about a specific object or situation, (2) immediate fear response on exposure, (3) active avoidance or intense distress, (4) fear disproportionate to the actual danger, (5) persistence (typically 6+ months) and (6) and clinically significant impairment or distress.  So, one who merely is not fond of spiders would not meet the DSM’s criteria; the fear must be severe enough to impair functioning or cause substantial distress over at least six months.  The irony is that as well as most spiders being small, non-venomous and not at all anxious to attack humans, co-existing with them and their webs in most cases will improve quality of life by culling the insect population.  For those not convinced, arachnophobia can be treated by a number of therapies including (1) systematic desensitization (a gradual exposure to the source of the distress), (2) the adoption of “calming techniques” which can lower the distress response and (3) CBT (cognitive behaviour therapy), a structured, goal-oriented form of psychotherapy focusing on identifying and changing negative or dysfunctional thought patterns and behaviours.  The estimates vary but all research indicates well under 10% of the global population suffer arachnophobia to the extent a clinician would diagnose with women being significantly more affected.

Tufted furnishings aficionado Lindsay Lohan on tufted leather sofa (left) and in bed with tufted bedhead (right).

Critics of interior design tend not to approve of padded or tufted headboards and the shinier or more pillowy the effect, the greater will be the disparagement.  Such critics probably tend to prefer a minimalist aesthetic and condemn anything which doesn’t conform as outdated, excessive or just in poor taste but that aside, there are practical reasons to avoid the padding because the material can over time collect dust, dirt, and oils, something of concern to allergy sufferers.  The designs can also provide hiding places for the dreaded bed bugs.  Still, there are some who like the “generic luxury hotel room” look and argue they’re a kind of safety feature, banging one’s head on some tufted padding a less troubling event than an impact with one of Ikea’s hard, flat surfaces.  Like any bed, there are advantages and drawbacks, some thing made more comfortable, some close to impossible.

Nobleman in full dress at Cambridge (1815) with golden tuft.

The noun toff began as mid nineteenth century lower-class London slang for "a stylish dresser, a man of the smart set".  It was an alteration of tuft, which was a mid-eighteenth century English university (Oxford & Cambridge) term for students who were members of the aristocracy, a reference to the gold ornamental tassel (or tufts) worn on the academic caps (mortarboards) of undergraduates.  Throughout the “long eighteenth century” (a historian’s term which refers for the epoch running from the Glorious Revolution of 1688 to the Congress of Vienna in 1815 (the “long nineteenth” being 1815-1914 and the “long twentieth” 1914-2001 (ie 9/11))), undergraduates at both Oxford and Cambridge were differentiated into four classes: (1) noblemen, (2) gentlemen, (3) commoner-scholars (fellow-commoners at Cambridge) & (4) servitors (sometimes known at Cambridge as sizars and at Oxford as battelers).  Each of these classes of undergraduates was entitled to a different form of dress, noblemen since 1490 (further clarified in 1576) entitled to wear silk and brocaded gowns of bright colors. Such rich materials emphasized noble status, as did the costly dyes. The gowns had flap collars, Tudor bag sleeves with gold lace decorations (akin to the black lace decorations used today on Oxford gimp gowns) and a velvet round cap with a gold tassel (or tuft) was worn.  Noblemen were technically (if misleadingly) nobiles minorum gentium and included the sons of bishops, knights and baronets and, by resolution of Convocation, could include heirs of esquires.

The right to wear the golden tuft was briefly restricted to those with fathers entitled to sit in the House of Lords while those less blue-blooded were allowed only to a plain black tassel but things gradually became less exclusive until the practice was abandoned in the late nineteenth century but the transfer of sense was inevitable: wearers of golden tufts came to be known as tufts.  Those toadies or sycophants (and there were many) who were slavish followers of the tufts were tufthunters and their antics, tufthunting, such individuals and their habits quite identifiable to this day.  By the 1850s, under the influence of the cockney accent, the word had been transformed into toff (some dictionaries of slang noting toft co-existed in the 1850s but this may have been a mishearing) which endures to refer to anyone rich and powerful although the original sense was of someone apparently well-bred.

1912 Stutz Bear Cat (1912-1934); after 1913 they would be dubbed Bearcat (left) and 1915 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost (Chassis 2BD, 40/50; 1906-1926) limousine by H.A. Hamshaw (right).

One of the fastest and most admired American cars of the early era, the Stutz Bearcat assumed such a place in popular culture, it was was claimed that should anyone die (except by suicide) at the wheel of a Stutz Bearcat, they were granted an obituary in the New York Times (NYT).  Wholly apocryphal, the origin of the romantic myth is thought to be related to the Bearcat being a symbol of wealth, adventure, and daring, owned by the sort of chaps (such a lifestyle at the time was most associated with men although women adventurers were not unknown) who would likely anyway warrant an NYT obituary.  The Bear Cat's tufted leather upholstery was typical (though not universal) of the high priced automobiles of the time although already, elaborate fabrics were appearing in vehicles with enclosed passenger compartments which afforded protection from the elements.  The appointments of 1915 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost were opulent even by the coachbuilding standards of the day (the Edwardian traditions still maintained) but the chauffeur's compartment lacked a roof (the body style really a Sedanca de Ville as were many of the early English "limousines") so was still trimmed in tufted leather.  The more sheltered passengers enjoyed carved ivory door handles, beveled glass windows, cut crystal lamps, an inlaid wood folding table, two jump seats, and door pockets, communications to the chauffeur via a tubular intercom.  The lavish upholstery in the rear was tufted, beige West-of-England cloth with embroidered silk window pulls and trim-work, including rear compartment shades and sliding divider although what usually attracts most comment is the elegant, pleated, cloth rosette headliner with its cloudlike billows.   To make journeys more pleasant, a set of leather-wrapped flasks was mounted in the right rear armrest.

1908 Hotchkiss 16-20 hp Type T Roi des Belges (King of the Belgians) Touring Car with tufted red leather (right) and 1917 Packard Twin Six Touring Car with channel tufted black leather (left).  The term “touring car” was never exactly defined and use varied between UK & US manufacturers but typically it described a large, four-door, 4-6 seat open car, supplied with a folding top and (usually optional) temporary side curtains.  The style went extinct but did fork into the phaeton (no top or side-windows) and the four-door cabriolet (or convertible) (a folding top and retractable side windows).  However, even by the 1930s, the old coachwork terms from the days of horse-drawn vehicles had come to be used with such imprecision the descriptions were sometimes little more than vaguely indicative and in the post-war years they meant whatever manufacturers at the time wanted them to mean.

In the matter of upholstery, the word “tufted” has long been synonymous with “deep buttoned” but in the early days of the automobile. Coach-builders and upholsters would offer the option of “channel tufted” trim which essentially was “tufting without the buttons” although it seems almost always to have been executed only with parallel seams (ie nothing on the diagonal).  Probably because what would now be understood as a “pleated” style was more comfortable for sitting on in a moving object, it became popular in the 1920s.  Of course, what the machinists called the “straight tuck-roll” technique was less labour intensive and used smaller quantities of materials so interiors could be trimmed at lower cost so the incentive was there to make the switch.  The revival of button-tufting in the late twentieth century was not an exercise in mere nostalgia but an expression of conspicuous consumption, the “obviously expensive” look making tufting in the big US cars something of a Veblen good.   

1972 Oldsmobile Ninety Eight Regency advertising.

Tufted leather upholstery was common in early automobiles, the seating often exactly the same as those used in horse-drawn carriages, houses or commercial buildings (and certainly gentlemen's clubs).  The practice faded as production volumes increased and as early as the late 1920s was coming to be restricted to only the most expensive models.  This exclusivity tended to prevail until 1972 when Oldsmobile introduced the Regency option for its full-sized Ninety-Eight (sometimes as "98") models, a package, the visual highlight of which was tufted "loose-pillow" velour upholstery (although unlike the use in furniture where the "pillows" were detachable for cleaning, in the Ninety-Eight they were fixed permanently to the seats.  Suddenly, solidly middle-class Oldsmobile (right in the middle of General Motors’ (GM) five-step (Chevrolet-Pontiac-Oldsmobile-Buick-Cadillac) hierarchy; the so-called "Slone ladder" designed to both facilitate and encourage "upward automotive mobility" conceived by Alfred P Sloan (1875–1966;  president of General Motors (GM) 1923-1937 and Chairman of the Board 1937-1946)) had brought both velour and loose-pillow seating to the masses.  The velour was at the time admired by most buyers (though derided by some critics of design) and as tufted upholstery began to proliferate in the industry it was usually offered as a cheaper alternative to leather.  In some climates the velour was probably the better choice and was welcomingly comfortable although in some of the more strident shades of red could recall the popular idea of how a bordello might be furnished.  Presumably, those who'd never enjoyed a visit to a bordello were more disconcerted than regular customers.

1974 Imperial LeBaron four-door hardtop (left) in chestnut tufted leather though not actually “rich Corinthian leather” which was (mostly) exclusive to the Cordoba (1975-1983) until late 1975 when not only did the Imperial's brochures mention "genuine Corinthian leather (available at extra cost)" but for the first time since 1954 the range was referred to as the "Chrysler Imperial", a harbinger the brand was about to be retired.  Imperial's advertising copy noted of the brochure photograph above: “...while the passenger restraint system with starter interlock is not shown, it is standard on all Imperials.”; the marketing types didn't like seat-belts messing up their photos, reminding people cars sometimes crash.  While all of the big three (GM, Ford & Chrysler) had tufted interiors in some lines, it was Chrysler which displayed the most commitment to the motif.

1977 Chrysler (Australia) Valiant Regal SE.

In the era, Chrysler's Australian outpost did cut a few corners when implementing the “pillowed look”, economies achieved by (1) using fewer buttons for the tufting of the fabric or optional leather and (2) attaching the tufted “feature sections” directly to the cushion squab rather than creating an emulated “pillowed” look which appeared to sit atop the structure.  Even by the time of the release of the CL range (1976-1978) the feeling was the writing was on the wall for the once popular Australian Valiant (1962-1981) and the top-of-the-line Regal SE was created in the time-honored Q&D (quick & dirty) way by including all the less Regal’s options as standard equipment; only the tufted upholstery and optional leather was unique to the model.  Sales were modest but there remained devoted following for the Valiant which was durable enough to endure the sometimes harsh environment and it was highly regarded for its towing capabilities, equipped either with the lusty locally-developed 265 cubic inch (4.3 litre) straight-6 or the imported 318 cubic inch (5.2 litre) V8.  Built on the US A-body platform, when production ended in 1981 it had lasted a half-decade longer than the Plymouth and Dodge versions sold in the home market and only in Mexico would use continue until 1988.

1974 Cadillac Fleetwood Talisman.

Oldsmobile's move was as audacious and influential as Ford’s introduction in 1965 of the up-market LTD which, like the Regency package, had the effect of cannibalizing sales from other divisions within the same corporation.  Cadillac, although with a range priced considerably above Oldsmobile, offered nothing with such an ostentatious interior though when it did in 1974 respond with its Talisman package (1974-1976), it made sure it did so with more tufted extravagance still, in 1974 offering leather as well as velour.  The trend the Regency package started would last over twenty years and is remembered especially for the tufted fittings used in Imperials, Chryslers and Dodges, the hides used in the Cordoba range (1975-1983) said to be "rich Corinthian leather", an advertising agency creation which meant nothing in particular but sounded vaguely European and therefore expensive.

1985 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz (left), 1977 Chrysler New Yorker Brougham (centre) and 1989 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham d' Elegance (right).

Color choice made a big difference to the perception of the "tufted look", more subdued hues like green and blue less confronting than the "bordello red" which became emblematic of the industry's phase.  Cadillac called the fabric in the Fleetwood Talisman "Medici crushed velour" which had about the same relationship to historic truth as "fine Corinthian leather" but the package sold well over the three seasons it was offered, despite the option costing almost as much (and the leather significantly more) as some new cars.  Among collectors, the holy grail is a 1974 Fleetwood Talisman trimmed in blue leather; although it was on the option list, none has ever been sighted and the factory's records don't breakdown production between the blue and the alternative "medium saddle" (a medium tan), some of which have been verified.

Palindrome

Palindrome (pronounced pal-in-drohm)

(1) A word, line, verse, number, sentence etc, reading the same backward as forward.

(2) In biochemistry, a region of DNA in which the sequence of nucleotides is identical with an inverted sequence in the complementary strand.

1638: From the Ancient Greek παλίνδρομος (palindromos) (running back again; recurring, literally “literally "a running back”) the construct being πάλιν (pálin) (again, back) + δρόμος (dromos) (direction, running, race, racecourse).  Pálin was from the primitive Indo-European kwle-i-, a suffixed form of the root kwel- (revolve, move round) (kw- becomes the Greek p- before some vowels.  The word palindrome was first published by Henry Peacham (1578-circa 1645) in The Truth of Our Times (1638).  Although derived from the Greek root palin + dromos, the Greek language uses καρκινικός (carcinic, literally “crab-like”) to refer to letter-by-letter reversible writing.  The related palinal (directed or moved backward, characterized by or involving backward motion) dates from 1888.  The noun palinode (poetical recantation, poem in which the poet retracts invective contained in a former satire) dates from the 1590s and was from either the sixteenth century French palinod or the Late Latin palinodia, from the Greek palinōidia (poetic retraction), again from pálin; the related form were palinodical & palinodial.  The word palinode was sometimes applied to the apologies artists and others in the Soviet Union were compelled to publish, often after being accused of formalism or something just as heinous.  Palindrome & palindromist are nouns, palindromic is an adjective and palindromically is an adverb; the noun plural is palindromes.

Pierre Laval (1883–1945; Prime Minister of France 1931-1932, 1935-1936 & de facto prime minister in the Vichy Government 1942-1944).

Even before he spent the final years of his political career as a senior official in the collaborationist regime of Vichy France under Marshal Philippe Pétain (1856-1951), the palindromic Laval was already notorious for his dubious financial dealings while in government and being a party to the Hoare–Laval Pact (1935), concocted with the then British Foreign Secretary Samuel “Slippery Sam” Hoare (1880-1959) with which the pair sought to end the tiresome Second Italo-Ethiopian War (the last of the colonial land-grabs in the era of European colonization) because it was “bad for business”.  Something of a precursor to the 1938 Munich Agreement in which the UK and France acquiesced to the Nazi’s dismemberment of Czechoslovakia in exchange for what, delusionally, they believed would be Adolf Hitler’s (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) final territorial claim in Europe, what the Hoare–Laval Pact offered was a partition of Abyssinia, something that, in retrospect, would have been merely the first step to Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943) absorbing the whole country as a colony of Imperial Italy.  Even for the by then jaded people of France and the UK the cynicism was too blatant and the reaction when the details were made public compelled the dismissal of both ministers.

Sir Samuel Hoare ice-skating, October 1935.

An expert skater, Hoare broke his nose while skating in Switzerland at the time of the furore surrounding the Hoare-Laval Pact; in editorial offices around the world, photographs were captioned: “Hoare skating on thin ice”.  When told of the broken nose, Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) responded: “Pity it wasn't his neck.”  Meeting his unhappy ex-minister after his dismissal, George V (1865–1936; King of the United Kingdom & Emperor of India 1910-1936) (who had urged the British government to endorse the pact) tried to cheer him up by repeating a joke doing the rounds of the London clubs: “No more coals to Newcastle, no more Hoares to Paris.”  He was disappointed when Sir Samuel didn’t laugh.

In the way things are done in politics, after serving their brief time in the penalty box (sin-bin in some sports), both made comebacks although Laval's ended not well.  Slippery Sam found a niche as the UK's ambassador to Spain (1940-1944) where his talents proved invaluable for his dual role (bribing generals and persuading Generalissimo Francisco Franco (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975) not to get too involved in the war).  Created Viscount Templewood upon his return to the UK, he was an active member of the House of Lords and wrote a number of books but his later life was lived in the shadow of the 1930s, remembered always as one of the 15 “guilty men” portrayed in the 1940 book of the same name, co written by three politically-aligned journalists (Frank Owen (1905-1979, Liberal), Michael Foot (1913-2010, Labour) and Peter Howard (1908-1965, Conservative).  Hoare’s own memoir of the 1930s (Nine Troubled Years (1954)) was an apologia for the appeasement policies of the decade and although if sympathetically read (those were, as he said, “troubled years”) his “guilt” emerges somewhat mitigated, his reputation never recovered.

Otto Abetz (1903-1958; de facto German ambassador to Paris 1940-1944, left) shaking hands with Marshal Pétain (right), Paris, November 1941.

Pétain had little faith in the arrangements his regime negotiated with the Germans honored, telling colleagues after one meeting: "It will take six weeks to work out all the details and six months for the Germans to forget all about them."  Because Berlin didn't formerly created diplomatic relations with France after the defeat in 1940, Otto Abetz was never properly credentialed as ambassador but wholly he discharged the duties.  His great nephew is Eric Abetz (b 1958; Liberal Party senator for Tasmania, Australia 1994-2022, Treasurer of Tasmania since 2024).

Laval, sniffing the winds of French defeat in 1940, became a convinced fascist, serving in the Vichy regime between July 1940-August 1944 variously as vice-president of the Council of Ministers and head of government.  He fled to Spain after the Liberation of France but was extradited and put on trial for plotting against the security of the state and collaborating with the Nazis; found guilty, he was executed by firing squad in October 1945.  Old Marshal Pétain fared a little better.  Although also sentenced to death for his role during the occupation, Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970; President of France 1959-1969), then serving as Chairman of the Provisional Government of the French Republic, couldn’t bring himself to sign the death warrant for one of the country’s heroes of World War I (1914-1918) and commuted the sentence to life imprisonment, officially on the grounds of “age”.

Perhaps surprisingly, the longest known palindromic word is not German despite their fondness for lengthy compounds.  According to the Guinness Book of World Records the record is held by the 19 character saippuakivikauppias which is Finnish for “a travelling salesman who sells lye (caustic soda)”.  It’s said not often to come up in conversation and seems to exist only a curiosity used in lists of long palindromes where it's the undisputed number one.  In English, palindromes of a few characters are common but examples with more than seven letters are rare.  Tattarrattat (the sound made by knocking on a door), as it’s usually spelled, has 12 characters but is a bit of a fudge because it’s also an onomatopoeia so some lexicographers insist it doesn’t count.  Also cheating but clever is the 11 letter aibohphobia meaning a fear of palindromes, the construct being the suffix -phobia written in reverse + phobia.  Adding to the charm is that while doubtlessly a non-existent condition, it's suspected there are anyway a few of those in the literature of psychiatry; certainly there's a goodly number in the many "phobia lists".  From India, there's kinnikinnik, a smoking mixture of bark & leaves (but no tobacco).  English’s longest “real” palindrome appears to be detartrated, the past participle of detartrate (to remove tartrates (salts of tartaric acid)), especially from fruit juices and wines, in order to reduce tartness or sourness).  Not only is it a real word but it describes a common process in the industrial production of foods and beverages.

Announced on an auspicious date.

On 2 February 2020, Lindsay Lohan (b 1986), in a now deleted Instagram post, for the first time publicly acknowledged her relationship with Bader Shammas (b 1987), a group photograph from Dubai, including the couple and her sister Aliana (b 1993), captioned: "@aliana lovely night with sister and my boyfriend bader💗".  The couple would later marry.  2 February 2020 (02-02-2020) was the twenty-first century’s only eight-digit global palindrome (ie it works with either the MM-DD-YYYY or DD-MM-YYYY convention).  The last eight-digit global palindrome happened 908 years earlier on the even more numerically symmetrical 11 November 1111 (11-11-1111) and the next one will be 908 years hence on 3 March 3030 (03-03-3030).  Six and seven digit palindromes are more common.

Palindromic sentences are often created and these are judged not by length but by their elegance which is why “never odd or even” often is cited as an example.  Leigh Mercer (1893–1977) was a word nerd and recreational mathematician who devised the classic "A man, a plan, a canal: Panama!" and this approach was in the 1980s taken to its logical extreme in two novels, Satire: Veritas (1980, 58,795 letters) by David Stephens and Dr Awkward & Olson in Oslo (1986, 31,954 words) by Lawrence Levine, both said to be palindromically perfect and wholly nonsensical.  Shorter, but of admirable clarity, are the many baptismal fonts in Greece and Turkey which bear the circular 25-letter inscription NIYON ANOMHMATA MH MONAN OYIN (Wash (my) sins, not only (my) face).  This appears also in several English churches.  Originally specific to poetry, a palindromic verse (one reading the same forwards or backwards) was in literary criticism described as cancrine, from the Latin cancer (crab) + -īnus (the suffix added to a noun base (especially a proper noun) to form an adjective in the sense of “of or pertaining to”), the notion being “cancrīnus”, the image based on most species of crab being able to walk sideways (both left & right).  In general use, by extension, the world came to be used to mean “reading something backwards”.

Sixteenth century German "oath skull" on which defendants swore their oaths in the Vehmic courts (the Vehmgericht, Holy Vehme or Vehm, the alternative spellings being Feme, Vehmegericht & Fehmgericht), a tribunal system established in Westphalia during the late Middle Ages.

Created essentially because of the inadequacies of the official justice system, they're now often referred to as "proto-vigilante" courts but for centuries they filled a niche before they came increasingly to be associated with injustice and corruption before finally being abolished in 1811, a half-decade after the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire, the source of their original authority.

In linguistics, these “grid of letters” are called “acrostics”.  Acrostic was from the Middle French acrostiche & acrostique (persisting in modern French as acrostiche) and its etymon the Late Latin acrostichis, from the Ancient Greek ἀκροστιχίς (akrostikhís), the construct being ἄκρο- (ákro-) (the prefix indicating, inter alia, the extremity or tip of something) + στῐ́χος (stĭ́khos) (row or file of soldiers; line of poetry, verse) (ultimately from the primitive Indo-European steyg- (to climb, go)).  They remain still a popular form for the “word puzzles” appearing in the surviving newspapers and magazines.  In verse, an acrostic is a poem in which the initial letters of each line make a word or words when read downwards (the mesostich (middle) or telestich (final) letter of each line might also be used) whereas in prose the first letter of each paragraph or sentence might make up a word.  It’s speculated the earliest acrostic may have been created as a mnemonic device and used as a tool to aid oral transmission and most of the acrostics in the Old Testament are of the alphabetical or abecedarian (in this context “a work which uses words or lines in alphabetical order”) kind.  For poets however it may have been just an intellectual exercise (or perhaps “a gimmick” if not well-received by certain critics).  Geoffrey Chaucer (circa 1344-1400) used a simple acrostic device in ABC, a twenty-four stanza poem in which the first letter of the first word in each stanza is the appropriate letter of the alphabet, from A to Z.  The dramatist Benjamin Jonson (circa 1572–circa 1637) in his Argument (prefacing The Alchemist (1610)) used an acrostic verse (“argument” a technical term meaning “the abstract” or “plot summary”).

The palindromic (or “all-round”) acrostic seen on the oath skull is known as the “Sator square” or the “Cirencester word square” because a copy was in 1868 discovered on a painted wall plaster in what is now Victoria Road in the English town of Cirencester in the Cotswold District of Gloucestershire.  At the time of the inscription, during the Roman occupation of Britain, the settlement was called Corinium.  The best documented of the early examples was one etched onto a wall in the doomed city of Herculaneum, the conclusion of most being Sator Arepo Tenet Opera Rotas should be understood as “The sower, Arepo, makes the wheel work”), the trick being it can be read vertically, horizontally, or in the diagonal.  Known also as pentacles, the “SATOR” was the most commonly found in the Western Esotericism of late antiquity, used by Kabbalists, Gnostics, alchemists and other pre-medieval mystics in the creation of magic spells, amulets, potions etc and were thus often seen in the shops of apothecaries.  For deconstructionists, the translations are:

sator: sower/planter
tenet: he/she/they/it holds/has/grasps/possesses
opera: work/exertion/service
rotās: wheels

There has been speculation about the meaning of this pentacle, some a little fanciful and it’s not impossible things were made up just to fit, rather as "the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" was coined to use each letter in the alphabet and "DICK HOOD DID EXCEED" serves no purpose other than to appear the same if inverted and viewed in a looking glass.

ROTAS
OPERA
TENET
AREPO
SATOR

The one on the skull was a second form, copied from an Egyptian papyrus of the late fourth or early fifth century AD:

SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS

Among professionals and amateurs alike, there has been much debate about the possible meaning(s) and although there are a number of permutations, most hint at something like “the sower Arepo holds the wheels carefully”, indicating the care required when sowing the seeds for next season’s crop.  The form may however in some places have been vested with magical or religious significance.  In sixth century Ethiopia, the five words (corrupted to Sador, Alador, Danet, Adera and Rodas), were used as the names of the five nails of Christ's Cross.  In France, the word square was known to have been used as a form of lucky charm and reputedly, one fortunate inhabitant of Lyon was cured of madness by eating three crusts of bread (each inscribed with the square) while making five recitations of the Pater Noster in remembrance of the five wounds of Christ and the five nails.  Presumably encouraged by such an event, Spanish and Portuguese Roman Catholic missionaries took these charms to South America where they were said variously to protect folk from snake bites and aid childbirth.

Protuberant

Protuberant (pronounced proh-too-ber-uhnt, proh-tyoo-ber-uhnt, or pruh-too-ber-uhnt)

Bulging out beyond the surrounding surface; protruding; projecting; swelling from the surrounding surface; bulging.

1640–1650: From the sixteenth century French protubérant (prominent beyond the surrounding surface), from the Late Latin protuberantem (nominative protuberans), present participle of prōtūberāre (to swell, bulge, grow forth), the construct being pro- (forward) + tuber (lump, swelling) from the primitive Indo-European root teue- (to swell).  The most common form in the Late Latin was prōtūberāre (to swell).  The verb protuberate (bulge out, swell beyond the adjacent surface) dates from the 1570s, from Late Latin protuberatus, past participle of prōtūberāre.  Protuberant is an adjective, protuberate is a verb, protuberance & protuberancy are nouns and protuberantly is an adverb; the noun plural is protuberances.

Patting the protuberance of pregnancy: Ali Lohan (b 1993, left) photographed with her pregnant sister Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, right) wearing Sandal-Malvina Fringe Tank Dress in (unattributed) Dodge Yorange (left).  The shoes are Alexandre Birmen Clarita Platforms and may have been worn just for the photo-shoot; usually, pregnant people prefer something more sensible.

Artwork not by PM&C.

In Australia, PM&C (Department of Prime Minister & Cabinet) in 2022 released a new logo for the “Women’s Network”.  To the left of the construct was a cursive "W", the right stroke (the vertical diagonal line in a letter) adorned with a swash (a fancy or decorative replacement for a terminal or serif in an upper-case capital letter (although this w may be lower case (it’s hard to tell) in which case it would be a "flourish").  To the right was a capsular (technically a geometric stadium) protuberance which had been bitten into by the stylized W.  The logo’s graphical elements were rendered in a darkish purple which lightened as the shape extended right, the text below in two different sans serif fonts, one line in bold black, the other grey.  The design and placement of the text, though not obviously thoughtful, did at least add meaning to the graphic which might otherwise have been thought something to do with aubergines (eggplant).

Innocent interpretation: The aubergine (eggplant).

The logo proved to have a short life, withdrawn from circulation in response to complaints it resembled male genitalia; on Twitter, #logonono quickly trended.  Almost immediately the furor erupted, PM&C issued a statement saying the logo had been “removed” from its website “pending consultation with staff”.  Noting the phallic creation was part of a rebrand of staff DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) networks “to establish a consistent look and feel” between the logos used for various groups, PM&C added “the Women’s Network logo retained a ‘W’ icon which staff had been using for a number of years” which seemed an unnecessary clarification given nobody had objected to the W.  Anxious to assure the country that whatever controversy might have been induced by the purple protuberance, PM&C announced the “…rebrand was completed internally, using existing resources, and designs were consulted on widely.  No external providers were engaged for this work… (and that) the prime minister and the prime minister’s office were not part of this logo design.”  Well that cleared that up.

Graphic designers do seem sometimes unaware of the levels of anatomical comparison their work offers.  Of course, on the basis that "no publicity is bad publicity" there may be the odd "intentional inadvertence", there being much to be gained from a good handling of a controversy. 

The errors cut across cultures.  Here technical advice from an architect would have helped, more historically correct additional minarets should have been added and only a single dome depicted.

The attitude of critics was exemplified by the NOWN (National Older Women’s Network), which issued a statement describing the logo as “either thoughtless or an insult” although as a re-branding exercise, the project had to be labeled a success, most of the country now aware of the existence of the Women’s Network, a mysterious body previously familiar probably only to a handful of souls devoted to it causes.  A discussion of what it does or whether it fulfils any useful purpose wasn’t stimulated by the outcry over the offending logo so whatever the Women’s Network was doing before, it presumably continues to do.  One thing it achieved was to flush out the competition; it seems there are in the country a number of organizations with "Women's Network" in their title but whether there are demarcation disputes or all work together is collective feminist harmony seems not to have made the news.

Logo developed in 1973 by Gerry Kano Design on a commission from Roman Catholic Church's Archdiocese of Los Angeles.

Designed for the Archdiocesan Commission of Catholic Youth, remarkably as it may now seem, the imaginative creation won an "Excellence in Design" award from the Art Director's Club of Los Angeles.  An example of how things have changed, it was a time when what priests did behind closed doors tended to be "hushed up" with bishops "solving the problem" by shifting the perpetrator to another parish when he would find new victims against whom to visit his sins.

Perhaps the men involved in the “Women’s Network” design didn’t notice the shape of the protuberance because they were focused on the color, anxious to avoid what might once have been the obvious choice: pink.  That would of course have been condescending and gender-stereotyping so the staff at PM&C deserve some praise in this aspect of a matter in which they weren’t involved.  Pink stuff for products aimed at the female market may be less of a thing than once it was but for men wanting a gift with a difference for women, it seems more of a thing than ever, pink tool kits popular gifts with sales spiking reliably in the run up to Christmas and even Valentine’s Day.  In truth, whatever the color, it's probably a good idea for the modern young spinster to have her own tool kit because as many of them will attest, men just can't be relied upon.  However, while working well for novelties like hammers and screwdrivers, pink doesn’t always have a good record as a marketing device writ large, failure exemplified by the Dodge La Femme.

Chrysler show cars, 1954:  Chrysler Le Comte (his, top) & Chrysler La Comtesse (hers, bottom).

Chrysler offered the La Femme package in 1955 and 1956 on the Custom Royal Lancer (the division's top trim line), the creation not a stylistic whim but a response to sociological changes in an unexpectedly affluent post-war US society in which women were found to be exerting a greater influence on the allocation of their family’s rising disposable income and of most interest to Chrysler was that those increasingly suburban families were buying second cars, women getting their own.  Adventurous color schemes were nothing new for Detroit, the cars of the art deco era noted for their two-tone combos but shades had been more subdued in the years immediately after World War II (1939-1945).  That changed with the exuberance of 1950s experimentation when three and four-tone renderings hit the showrooms though for the La Femme concept which had been previewed in the La Comtesse, two were judged enough.  The Le Comte & La Comtesse show cars in 1954 attracted most attention for their clear Perspex roofs (a craze at the time which didn’t last long as buyers found themselves slowly being cooked) but, following the grammatical conventions of their French definite articles, they were very much a “his & hers” brace, the darker (black & bronze) Le Comte with a “masculine” image and the La Comtesse, painted in  "Dusty Rose" & "Pigeon Grey", a softer and more “feminine” look.

1955 Dodge La Femme by Chrysler (left), accessories by by Evans of Chicago (right).

The public and critical response to La Comtesse must have been positive enought to encourage production and for the 1955 model year, the La Femme option was offered on the Dodge Custom Royal Lancer two-door hardtop, finished in a two-tone combination of "Heather Rose" (a shade of pink) & "Sapphire White", highlighted with gold-colored "La Femme" badges in a display script but if the exterior was (almost) subdued, the interior, a sea of pink, was femininity laid on with a trowel.  Trimmed in a tapestry fabric unique to the La Femme which wove pink rosebuds on a silver-pink background in pastel-pink vinyl, confronting those who sat there was a dashboard painted in bright-pink lacquer.  In case nobody sitting inside got the message, there was another La Femme badge in anodized gold-tone making explicit this was "a car for women". 

In the pink: Dodge La Femme (1955-1956).

In a marketing ploy which turned out to be years ahead of its time, the La Femme also came with coordinated accessories, the centrepiece a pink calfskin handbag that fitted neatly into a storage compartment built into the back of the passenger’s seat, the shape of which included a scallop which meant the handbag’s escutcheon plate was visible, Dodge’s press-kits noting the brushed-metal was designed to permit the owner’s name to be engraved.  The handbag contained a compact, lipstick case, cigarette case, comb, cigarette lighter, and change purse, all made variously with faux-tortoiseshell or pink calfskin, both combined with yet more anodized gold-tone metal.  In a matching compartment on the back of the driver’s seat was a rain coat, rain-cap and umbrella, all made with a vinyl patterned to match the rosebud interior fabric.  The design and production was by Evans of Chicago, a furrier and maker of fine accessories, famous for the display of "Black Diamond" mink coats in their flagship store at 36 South State Street.  Evans later would fall victim to the anti-fur movement which would lay waste to an industry on which many regional economies had been built.

The advertising message which at the time seemed a good idea.

In toned-down form, the La Femme option re-appeared in 1956.  The external color combination was changed to a "Misty Orchid" & "Regal Orchid" scheme and the interior finish was simplified, the previous year’s tapestry fabric proving challenging to produce in volume.  The revised upholstery used a heavy white cloth with random patterns of short lavender (purple's most "feminine" hue) and purple loops, matching the loop-pile carpeting and the accessories were limited, restricted in 1956 to just the rain coat, rain cap and umbrella.  Over the two seasons, fewer than 2,500 buyers chose the US$143 option and it didn’t re-appear for 1957.

Dodge in 1955-1956 had advertising for men (HP (horsepower), speed and V8 engines, left) and for women (everything pink, the paint, the rosebuds on the upholstery, the handbag, compact, lipstick case, cigarette case, comb, cigarette lighter, change purse, rain coat, rain-cap and umbrella, right).  In an interesting (though unverified) juxtaposition of men's perceptions, several sources suggest at least three La Femme buyers chose the most powerful engine on the option list, Dodge’s D-500 (a 315 cubic inch (5.2 litre) V8 with hemi heads and a four barrel carburetor, rated at a then most masculine 285 HP); perhaps not all clung to 1950s gender stereotyping.

Dodge La Femme advertising copy (1955, left) and pony-tail friendly headrest (right).  The men at Dodge were not wrong in concluding the “discriminating, modern woman” existed in commercially significant numbers and that she might buy a car but didn't grasp that functional features would have more appeal than pink paint. Ironically, the evidence does suggest men at the time were rather more susceptible to being drawn to a car because it was marketed as “masculine” than were women to something cynically and superficially “feminized”.

Other manufacturers did dabble with feminine-themed cars in a similar vein including GM's (General Motors) 1958 Chevrolet Impala Martinique and Cadillac Eldorado Seville Baroness but neither reached series-production.  The special detailing on GM’s 1958 show cars was the work of two of the seven women hired by the corporation's then head of styling, Harley Earl (1893–1969) and within the studios, the septep were known as the “Damsels of Design”, Jeanette Linder working on the Impala Martinique convertible and Suzanne Vanderbilt on the Eldorado Seville Baroness.  Had their presence continued Detroit’s design language in the 1960s might at least subtly have followed a different path but, upon Earl’s retirement in 1958, he was succeeded by Bill Mitchell (1912–1988; head of design at GM 1958–1977) whose world view was different: “No women are going to stand next to my male senior designers”.  Under the Mitchell regime, the damsels departed although probably he’d approved of their work at GM’s Frigidaire division designing the 1955 “Frigidaire Kitchen of Tomorrow” which genuinely was influential.  While doubtlessly Mr Mitchell opened a fridge only to get himself a beer when no woman was on hand to fetch one for him, he’d have thought women just the people to design how fridges should look.  Much later, there would be innovations in car design which women found genuinely helpful such as a hook on which a handbag could hang while remaining conveniently accessible and headrests which comfortably would accommodate a ponytail.

Six and the Single Girl, 1966.  Describing the Mustang's politely behaved six-cylinder engine as a "husky brute" might seem a stretch but it was rugged and dependable so maybe a case could be made.

What in the US did find a receptive audience among women was the new generation of smaller (the "compacts", "pony cars" & "intermediates") automobiles introduced in the early 1960s, women sensibly drawn to something smaller than the standard-size machine which after 1957 grew to an absurdly inefficient size (to which men would continue to be attracted until economic reality bit in the 1970s).  FoMoCo (Ford Motor Company) in 1966 took advantage of the shift in the tastes of some with its “Six and the Single Girl” campaign, promoting to a suddenly numerous sub-set of the female demographic the virtues of the six cylinder version of its Mustang which wildly had been successful since introduction in 1964.  That subset was “the young white women of the baby boom”; many had jobs which meant they had either the capital or credit rating required to buy a new car and the Mustang, stylish, small (in US terms) and affordable could have been designed with them in mind which, to some extent, it was.  Coincidently, at the time, FoMoCo was struggling to meet demand for V8-powered Mustangs but had the capacity to produce more sixes so in 1966 the planets aligned nicely and “Six and the Single Girl” played a part in stimulating demand, the fitment rate of the "six-pot" engine at times approaching 50%, the same phenomenon experienced by the main competition, the Chevrolet Camaro, introduced that year.  Because the survival rate of the era’s six-cylinder pony cars is so low, the general perception of the breed overwhelmingly is of V8-powered, tyre-smoking muscle cars but many were built as modest commuters (the so-called “secretary’s car”) purchased by those more interested a car’s gas (petrol) consumption than its ET (elapsed time) over a drag strip’s ¼ mile (400 metres).

Sex and the Single Girl: The first edition hardback published by Bernard Geis (1909–2001) had a plain cover with just the title in text (the “S1NGLE” was a gimmick) but after huge sales, the re-print rights were on-sold and some editions (including the 1963 paperback by Cardnal) featured pink-themed artwork.

In a form of “ambush marketing”, FoMoCo picked up “Six and the Single Girl” from the title of Sex and the Single Girl by Helen Gurley Brown (1922–2012), a book which sold by the million (more quickly than even the Mustang managed) and spent more than a year on the NYT (New York Times) best seller list.  In a sense, Sex and the Single Girl was a product of pharmacological determinism, published as it was some two years after the first oral contraceptive pill (even then famously known as “the pill”) was approved for prescription use in the US by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration).  Without women gaining some degree of autonomous control over their fertility, the premise of the book would have been absurd because as well as arguing the importance of them being financially independent of men, she advocated pre-marital sex, if need be with multiple partners and, obviously, without benefit of marriage.  Women with their own money was an idea subversive enough but the notion of unrestrained promiscuity upset the priests and politicians even more and although in the era a number of books (including Rachel Carson’s (1907–1964) Silent Spring (1962), Anthony Burgess’s (1917–1993) A Clockwork Orange (1962), William S. Burroughs’ (1914-1997) Naked Lunch (1962), Edward Albee’s (1928–2016) Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1962), Betty Friedan’s (1921–2006) The Feminine Mystique (1963) and James Baldwin’s (1924–1987) Another Country (1963)) appeared which appalled many in the conservative establishment, there was something about S&theSG which seemed especially threatening.  The protests of course made it a succès de scandale (from the French and literally “success from scandal”) which is the literary or artistic term encapsulating the dictum Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1945; Nazi Minister for Propaganda and Public Enlightenment 1933-1945) followed when dealing with the press in the difficult years before the party was handed power (like the consequences of Benito Mussolini's (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943) "March on Rome" the Nazi's "seizure" of the state is something of a myth): “Let them abuse us and let them damn us but let them say something about us”, a variant of Oscar Wilde’s (1854–1900): “It doesn’t matter what people are saying about you as long as they’re saying something”.  Goebbels truly was evil but his point was well made and among a prolix crowd, he was succinct, the acerbic thumbnail sketches of his Nazi colleagues he noted in his diaries in some ways reveal in a few words as much about them as their inch-thick biographies.

Tussy Cosmetics promotion, 1966.

The Tussy Cosmetics company in 1966 offered three 1967 Mustangs as prizes for contest winners, each finished in a shade of pink which matched the lipsticks Racy Pink (“A pale pink”), Shimmery Racy Pink Frosted (“Shimmers with pearl”) & Defroster (“Pours on melting beige lights when you wear it alone, or as a convertible top to another lip color”).  The fate of the cars is unknown but nerds might note the three prizes were 1967 models while the model (as in the Mustang) in the advertisement was from the 1966 range.  That's because the advertising copy had to be made available before the embargo had been lifted on photographs of the 1967 range.  The men on Madison Avenue presumably dismissed the suggestions that might be what would now be called “deceptive and misleading” content with the familiar “she'll never know”.  Ten years on from Dodge’s La Femme debacle, old habits were dying hard.

Single girl Sydney Sweeney (b 1997) amply filling the cover of Cosmopolitan's “Love Edition”, January 2026.

When in 1965 of Helen Gurley Brown was appointed editor of the glossy women’s magazine Cosmopolitan, the title switched focus to a publication aimed almost exclusively at the emerging and growing demographic with disposable income in which FoMoCo would become interested.  In what proved a perfect conjunction: a target market with (1) economic independence, (2) social freedom, (3) an embryonic feminist awareness and (4) the birth control pill, the magazine thrived, surviving even the rush of imitators its success spawned.  It’s a bit of a long bow to suggest Cosmopolitan for decades reproduced variations of 1962’s best seller advice manual in a monthly, glossy package but clearly, there was a gap in the market and there were more similarities than differences.  The approach was a success but there was criticism.  Conservatives disliked the choices in photography and the ideas young women were receiving.  Second wave feminists were divided, some approved but others thought the themes regressive, a retreat from the overtly political agenda of the early movement into something too focused on fun and fashion, reducing women yet again to objects seeking male approbation.  FoMoCo, neutral on the squabbles, sold women six-cylinder Mustangs by the truckload, feminism's S&theSG and capitalism's 6&theSG proving symbiotic.