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The logo proved to have a short life, withdrawn from circulation in response to complaints it resembled male genitalia; on Twitter, #logonono quickly trended.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.

Tiara

Tiara (pronounced tee-ar-uh, tee-ahr-uh or tee-air-uh (non-U))

(1) A jeweled, usually semi-circular, ornamental coronet worn by women.

(2) In the Roman Catholic Church. a head-piece consisting of three coronets on top of which is an orb and a cross, once worn by the pope, or carried before him during certain non-liturgical functions; a symbol of the position, authority and dignity of the pope.

(3) A high headdress, or turban, worn by the ancient Persian Kings and other men of rank.

1545–1555: An English borrowing, via Italian, from the Latin tiara (headdress) from the Ancient Greek tiā́ra & the Ionic τιήρης (tiḗrēs) (a kind of turban).  The etymology of the Latin and Greek forms is wholly unknown.  In English, there was an earlier anglicized form tiar, attested from the 1510s and tiara became common by the eighteenth century.  Tiara is a noun, tiaraed is a verb & adjective and tiaraless, betiared & tiaralike are adjectives (tiaraesque seems not to have appeared); the noun plural is tiaras.

The Triple Tiara

Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent (circa 1545), woodcut by an unknown Venetian artist.  Historians suspect the depiction of the splendid jewel-studded helmet was substantially accurate but the object may simply have been too heavy safely to wear for all but static, set-piece events, the risk of injury to the neck too great.  Still, he had four tiers so: "Take that pope!"

The papal triple tiara is the final form of a crown which worn by popes of the Roman Catholic Church between the eighth century and 1963.  Traditionally it was worn for their coronation but no pontiff has been so crowned since Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) in 1963 and his abandonment was in the spirit of the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965).  The name tiara refers to the entire headgear and it has used a three-tiered form since a third crown was added during the Avignon Papacy (1309–1378) and it's referred to also as the triregnum, triregno or Triple Crown.  In a piece of one-upmanship (perhaps one tiership), Suleiman I (Süleyman the Magnificent, 1494-1566, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire 1520-1566) commissioned from Venice a four tier helmet to show, in addition to the authority claimed by popes, he could add the symbol of his imperial power.  Often put on display as the centrepiece of Ottoman regalia to impress visitors, there's no documentary evidence the sultan ever wore the four layer tiara, crowns not part of the tradition and, fashioned from gold and gemstones, it would anyway have been extraordinarily heavy.

Lindsay Lohan, the wandering daughter who ran off to Dubai in Lynn Kiracofe tiara, W Magazine photo- shoot, April 2005.

A representation of the triregnum combined with two crossed keys of Saint Peter continues to be used as a symbol of the papacy and appears on papal documents, buildings and insignia.  Remarkably, there’s no certainty about what the three crowns symbolize.  Some modern historians link it to the threefold authority of the pope, (1) universal pastor, (2) universal ecclesiastical jurisdiction and (3) temporal power.  Others, including many biblical scholars, interpret the three tiers as meaning (1) father of princes and kings, (2) ruler of the world and (3) vicar of Christ on Earth, a theory lent credence by the words once used when popes were crowned:  Accipe tiaram tribus coronis ornatam, et scias te esse patrem principum et regum, rectorem orbis in terra vicarium Salvatoris nostri Jesu Christi, cui est honor et gloria in saecula saeculorum (Receive the tiara adorned with three crowns and know that thou art father of princes and kings, ruler of the world, vicar on earth of our Savior Jesus Christ, to whom is honor and glory for ever and ever).

Escutcheons of the Holy See (left) and the Secret Society of the Les Clefs d’Or (right).

Curiously, the brace of crossed keys appear also in the symbols used the Secret Society of the Les Clefs d’Or (The Golden Keys) which is the international association of hotel concierges; the similarities between their escutcheon and that of the Holy See are quite striking.  According to the Roman Catholic Church's Inquisition (the old Holy Office, now officially known as the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (DDF)), the crossed keys are a symbol of the Papacy's authority and power, representing the "keys of heaven" that in the New Testament were passed from Jesus Christ to Saint Peter.  In Roman Catholic tradition, Peter was appointed by Jesus as the first Pope and given the keys to symbolize his authority to forgive sins and to make decisions binding on behalf of the Church (this the theological basis of what in canon law was codified in the nineteenth century as papal infallibility).  The two keys thus symbolize the pope's two powers: (1) spiritual power (represented by the silver key) and (2) temporal power (represented by the gold key).  The latter power manifested in a most temporal manner during the thousand-odd years (between the eighth & nineteenth centuries) when the authority of the papal absolute theocracy extended to rule and govern the Papal States (which were interpolated into the modern state of Italy upon Italian unification (1859-1870).  Claiming (officially) only temporal dominion, the Secret Society of the Les Clefs d'Or logo depicts both their keys in gold, one said to symbolize the concierge's role in unlocking the doors to the world for their guests, the other their ability to unlock the secrets of their destination and provide insider knowledge and recommendations (restaurant bookings, airport transfers, personal service workers of all types etc).  However, neither the Vatican nor the Les Clefs d’Or have ever denied intelligence-sharing, covert operations, common rituals or other links.

Documents in the Vatican Archive suggest by 1130 the papal tiara had been modified to become a conventional (and temporal) symbol of sovereignty over the Papal States.  In 1301, during a dispute with Philip IV (Philip the Fair, 1268–1314, King of France 1285-1314), Boniface VIII (circa 1230–1303; pope 1294-1303) added a second layer to represent a pope’s spiritual authority being superior to an earthly king’s civil domain.  It was Benedict XII (1285–1342; pope 1334-1342 (as the third Avignon pope)) who in 1342 who added the third, said to symbolize the pope’s moral authority over all civil monarchs, and to reaffirm Avignon’s possession.  A changing world and the loss of the Papal States in 1970 deprived the triple crown of much temporal meaning but the silver tiara with the three golden crowns remained to represent the three powers of the Supreme Pontiff: Sacred Order, Jurisdiction and Magisterium.

Coronation of Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978), 30 June 1963 (left), the triple tiara created for Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958) (centre) and the coronation of Pius XII, 12 March, 1939 (right).  Historians sometimes describe the reign of Pius XII as "the last imperial papacy". 

Not since 1963 has a pope worn the triple crown.  Then, Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978), at the end of his coronation ceremony, took the tiara from his head and, in what was said to be a display of humility, placed it on the altar.  The act may have been thought symbolic of the winds of change being brought by the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965, published 1970) and it was certainly theologically defensible but cynical observers (and among Vaticanologists there are a few) would soon come to interpret as emblematic of Paul VI's pontificate.  Apparently, he'd not wanted to be crowned but acceded to the wishes of the tradition-bound curia and in a compromise, "took it off shortly after it was put on".  Thus proceeded the next 15 years during which Paul came to be known as the "Vatican's Hamlet" because he always found it hard to make a decision.  However, in a practical expression of his act of humility, the triple tiara was auctioned, the money raised used for missionary work in Africa although, keeping things in house, the winning bidder was the well-funded (this was before the need to pay compensation to victims of clerical sex-abuse) Archdiocese of New York.  That allocation proved a good investment because Africa has been a growth market for the church, unlike increasingly Godless Europe and elsewhere in the West.  Benedict XVI (1927–2022; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus 2013-2022) and Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013) received triple tiaras as gifts but neither wore them.  Benedict’s, in a nice ecumenical touch, was made by Bulgarian craftsmen from the Orthodox Church in Sofia, a gesture in the name of Christian unity.  Benedict would have appreciated that, having always kept a candle burning in the window, there to guide home the wandering daughter who ran off to Constantinople.

The wandering film star who ran off to Monte Carlo

Former Hollywood film star Grace Kelly (1929–1982; Princess Consort of Monaco 1956-1982), in tiara, pre-wedding photograph, 1956 (a necklace with stones arrayed in this form is styled a Golconda).  The car is a 1963 Thunderbird Limited Edition Landau, known colloquially as the “Princess Grace Edition”.  When the engagement was announced, the joke soon circulated: "When they're a little girl they want to be a princess, when they grow up they want to be a film star, when they're a film star they want to be a princess."

Princess Grace of Monaco was often seen in a tiara (they’re part of the “princess uniform”) and in the same year Paul IV was the last pope to be crowned, she had the pleasure of learning a Ford produced in the US had picked up the nickname “Princess Grace Edition” although Ford’s internal project name was “Thunderbird Special Edition Principality of Monaco” and it was released as a 1963 model with the name: “Thunderbird Limited Edition Landau”.  Produced in a run of 2000 during the final season of the third-generation Thunderbird (1961-1963), all but one were virtually identical and each received an individually number plaque.  The connection to principality & princess wasn’t tenuous because she was consulted on the color scheme and her husband (Rainier III (Rainier Louis Henri Maxence Bertrand Grimaldi, (1923–2005; Prince of Monaco 1949-2005)) received Landau Number 1 as a gift; presumably that was the quid pro quo (from the Latin quid prō quō (literally “something for something”).  The prince’s Landau Number One differed in a number of details from the other 1999 in the run in that it was a one-off build for the prince, one difference being the inclusion of the crest of the Principality of Monaco on a plaque made of silver while all others had one of chrome-plated steel with a brushed aluminum insert faceplate.  In the usual way such “limited edition” plaques were done, they were emblazoned with “Limited Edition Thunderbird Landau”, the serial number (nnnn of 2000) “World Premiere” & “Principality of Monaco”, the latter in a script font.  The features which distinguished the Landau were:

Corinthian White paint.
Dark Rose Beige vinyl roof.
Pearl White leather interior trim with Rose Beige seats.
Dark Rose Beige padded dash & carpet, including carpeted door trim panel bottoms (the only 1963 Thunderbirds so equipped).
Simulated Rosewood trim on console, instrument panel, door panels, rear quarter trim panels, and seat back emblem inserts (these were otherwise in color-keyed vinyl).
Deluxe wheel covers.
Rear fender skirts (spats).
White steering wheel with unique centre-boss insert.
White background on S-Bar inserts.
Monotone vinyl door and quarter trim panels.

Vogue Magazine’s six-page advertising feature, 15 February, 1963.

The princess apparently suggested beige for the paintwork on the basis it was her favorite color but there was some debate within the corporation and the planning committee’s minutes of the final meeting on 19 September, 1962 record the decision “unanimously” was taken to opt for Corinthian White over Rose Beige, that rationale being the combination was close to that used on Monaco’s national flag.  The “Dark Rose Beige” used for the vinyl roof was a noticeably deeper hue than the “Rose Beige” offered as a RPO (regular production option) on the standard Thunderbird line and was really closer to maroon while the shade used for the seats, while lighter than the roof, was darker than what was available for other Thunderbirds.  The roof covering on the Limited Edition Landaus proved prone to fading if exposed to strong sunlight and within a few years, many appeared a very different color.

Vogue Magazine fashion feature, 15 February, 1963.

Vogue took advantage of the having the Thunderbird available by using it as a backdrop for the photo-shoot to accompany “The rush to little suède dazzlers; to leathers that mix”; the location was Cagnes-sur-Mer, a fortified medieval town on the Riviera “with all the appropriate thrall.”  The model’s dress and set-in belt were by Highlander, the cardigan of Fleming-Joffe leather, the handbag by Roger Model, jewellery by Peladan with Bryans stockings inside Aimont red shoes.  Vogue however got the car wrong in captioning the picture: “Ford's creamy, brand-new, limited-edition Thunderbird Landau.  It's turned out in such small numbers that each car has a number; all are a cool cream-white, inside and out, roofed, carpeted and accented in warm tones of rosy beige.”  The Limited Edition Landaus had the Rose Beige upholstery while the car in the photo-shoot was a regular production model.  The other curiosity is a smiling model, a rare sight in fashion photography where the usual expression is the “studied neutral” which catwalk models are trained to use.  

The connection to European royalty had obvious sales appeal but Ford’s motivation was pragmatic, sales of the “Bullet Bird” (the nickname an allusion to the projectile-like lines) having declined in 1962 and with it being common knowledge a new version was scheduled for 1964, what was needed was something to stimulate demand, thus the conjuring up of a “package”, a tactic on which the industry would increasingly come to rely.  This choice of a “Monaco” theme was to take advantage of Ford Falcons competing in that year’s Monte Carlo Road Rally (one Falcon would win its class) and the principality was thus used as the location for the photo-shoot for that year’s mid season (the so-called “1963-½” cars) publicity campaign including the Galaxie 500 XL Sports Hardtop, Fairlane Sports Coupe and Falcon Hardtop; having a prince and princess associated with the fanciest Ford of all was icing on the gingerbread.  While all the Ford’s shipped to Monaco to be photographed for what was dubbed the “Ford Command Performance campaign” were variously red, white or blue, the princess’s preferred beige was seen because Ford also sent one Sandshell Beige Falcon Squire Station Wagon; converted to a ambulance, it was donated to the Red Cross to be used during the running of the rally.

Blazon

Blazon (pronounced bley-zuhn)

(1) In heraldry, an escutcheon or coat of arms or a banner depicting a coat of arms.

(2) In heraldry, a description (verbal or written or in an image) of a coat of arms.

(3) In heraldry, a formalized language for describing a coat of arms (the heraldic description of armorial bearings).

(4) An ostentatious display, verbal or otherwise.

(5) A description or recording (especially of the good qualities of a person or thing).

(6) In literature, verses which dwelt upon and described various parts of a woman's body (usually in admiration). 

(7) Conspicuously or publicly to set forth; display; proclaim.

(8) To adorn or embellish, especially brilliantly or showily.

(9) To depict (heraldic arms or the like) in proper form and color.

(10) To describe a coat of arms.

1275-1300: From the late thirteenth century Middle English blazon (armorial bearings, coat of arms), from the twelfth century Old French blason (shield, blazon (also “collar bone”).  Of the words in the Romance languages (the Spanish blason, Italian blasone, Portuguese brasao & Provençal blezo, the first two are said to be French loan-words and the origins of all remain uncertain.  According to the OED (Oxford English Dictionary), the suggestion by nineteenth century French etymologists of connections with Germanic words related to English blaze is dubious because of the sense disparities.  The verb blazon (to depict or paint (armorial bearings) dates from the mid sixteenth century and was either (or both) from the noun or the French blasonner (from the French noun).  In English, it had earlier in the 1500s been used to mean “descriptively to set forth; descriptively” especially (by at least the 1530s) specifically “to vaunt or boast” and in that sense it was probably at least influenced by the English blaze.  Blazon & blazoning are nouns & verbs, blazoner, blazonry & blazonment are nouns and blazoned & blazonable are adjectives; the noun plural is blazons.

A coat of arms, possibly of dubious provenance. 

The now more familiar verb emblazon (inscribe conspicuously) seems first to have been used around the 1590s in the sense of “extol” and the still common related forms (emblazoning; emblazoned) emerged almost simultaneously.  The construct of emblazon was en- +‎ blazon (from the Old French blason (in its primary sense of “shield”).  The en- prefix was from the Middle English en- (en-, in-), from the Old French en- (also an-), from the Latin in- (in, into).  It was also an alteration of in-, from the Middle English in-, from the Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in (in).  Both the Latin & Germanic forms were from the primitive Indo-European en (in, into).  The intensive use of the Old French en- & an- was due to confluence with Frankish intensive prefix an- which was related to the Old English intensive prefix -on.  It formed a transitive verb whose meaning is to make the attached adjective (1) in, into, (2) on, onto or (3) covered.  It was used also to denote “caused” or as an intensifier.  The prefix em- was (and still is) used before certain consonants, notably the labials “b” & “p”.

Google ngram: It shouldn’t be surprising there seems to have been a decline in the use of “blazon” while “emblazoned” has by comparison, in recent decades, flourished.  That would reflect matters of heraldry declining in significance, their appearance in printed materials correspondingly reduced in volume.  However, because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Self referential emblazoning: Lindsay Lohan's selfie of her modeling a sweater by Ashish, her visage emblazoned in sequins, London, November 2014.

Impressionistically though this assumption is, few would doubt “blazon” is now rare while “emblazoned” is far from uncommon.  While “emblazon” began with the meaning “that which the emblazoner does” (ie (1) to adorn with prominent, (2) to inscribe upon and (3) to draw a coat of arms) it evolved by the mid-nineteenth century with the familiar modern sense of “having left in the mind a vivid impression” (often in the form “emblazoned on one’s memory”).  In English, there’s nothing unusual in a derived or modified form of a word becoming common than its original root, even to the point the where the original is rendered rare, unfamiliar or even obsolete, a phenomenon due to changes in usage patterns, altered conventions in pronunciation or shifts in meaning that make the derived form more practical or culturally resonant.  That’s just how English evolves.

Other examples include (1) ruthless vs. ruth (ruth (pity; compassion) was once a common noun in Middle English but has long been extinct while ruthless, there being many who demand the description, remains popular), (2) unkempt vs kempt (kempt (neatly kept) would have been listed as extinct were it not for it finding a niche as a literary and poetic form and has also been used humorously or ironically), (3) disheveled vs sheveled (sheveled was from the Old French chevelé (having hair) and was part of mainstream vocabulary as late as the eighteenth century but, except in jocular use, is effectively non-existent in modern English) and (4) redolent vs dolent (redolent (evocative of; fragrant) was from dolent (sorrowful), from the Latin dolere (to feel pain)); redolent both outlived and enjoyed a meaning-shift from its root.

Etymologists think of these as part of the linguistic fossil record, noting there’s no single reason for the phenomenon beyond what survives being better adapted to cultural or conversational needs.  In that, these examples differ from the playful fork of back-formation which has produced (1) combobulate (a back-formation from discombobulate (to confuse or disconcert; to throw into a state of confusion) which was a humorous mock-Latin creation in mid-nineteenth century US English) (2) couth (a nineteenth century back-formation from uncouth and used as a humorous form meaning “refined”), (3) gruntled (a twentieth century back-formation meaning “happy or contented; satisfied”, the source being disgruntled (unhappy; malcontented) and most sources indicate it first appeared in print in 1926 but the most celebrated example comes from PG Wodehouse (1881–1975) who in The Code of the Woosters (1938) penned: “He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.”  Long a linguistic joke, some now take gruntled seriously but for the OED remains thus far unmoved and (4) ept (a back-formation from inept (not proficient; incompetent or not competent (there is a functional difference between those two)) which was from the Middle French inepte, from the Latin ineptus).

Literary use

In literary use, “blazon” was a technical term used by the Petrarchists (devotes of Francis Petrarch (1304-1374), a scholar & poet of the early Italian Renaissance renowned for his love poems & sonnets and regarded also as one of the earliest humanists).  Blazon in this context (a subset of what literary theorists call “catalogue verse”) was adopted because, like the structured and defined elements of heraldic symbolism, Petrarch’s poems contained what might be thought an “inventory” of verses which dwelt upon and detailed the various parts of a woman's body; a sort of catalogue of her physical attributes.  Petrarch’s approach wasn’t new because as a convention in lyric poetry it was well-known by the mid thirteenth century, most critics crediting the tradition to the writings of Geoffrey of Vinsauf, a figure about whom little is although it’s believed he was born in Normandy.  In England the Elizabethan sonneteers honed the technique as a devotional device, often, in imaginative ways, describing the bits of their mistresses they found most pleasing, a classic example a fragment from Amoretti and Epithalamion (1595), a wedding day ode by the English poet Edmund Spenser (circa 1552-1599) to his bride (Elizabeth Boyle) in 1594:

Her goodly eyes like sapphires shining bright.
Her forehead ivory white,
Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath rudded,
Her lips like cherries charming men to bite,
Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded,
Her paps like lilies budded,
Her snowy neck like to a marble tower,
And all her body like a palace fair.

Two bowls of cream uncrudded.

So objectification of the female form is nothing new and the poets saw little wrong with plagiarism, most of the imagery summoned salvaged from the works of Antiquity by elegiac Roman and Alexandrian Greek poets.  Most relied for their effect on brevity, almost always a single, punchy line and none seem ever to attempt the scale of the “epic simile”.  As can be imagined, the novelty of the revival didn’t last and the lines soon were treated by readers (some of whom were fellow poets) as clichés to be parodied (a class which came to be called “contrablazon”), the London-based courtier Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586) borrowing from the Italian poet Francesco Berni (1497–1535) the trick of using terms in the style of Petrarch but “mixing them up”, thus creating an early form of body dysmorphia: Mopsa's forehead being “jacinth-like”, cheeks of “opal”, twinkling eyes “bedeckt with pearl” and lips of “sapphire blue”.

William Shakespeare (1564–1616) however saw other possibilities in the blazon and in Sonnet 130 (1609) turned the idea on its head, listing the imperfections in her body parts and characteristics yet concluding, despite all that, he anyway adored her like no other (here rendered in a more accessible English):

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.