Mural

Mural (pronounced myoor-uhl)

(1) A large picture painted or affixed directly on a wall or ceiling.

(2) A greatly enlarged photograph attached directly to a wall.

(3) A wallpaper pattern representing a landscape or the like, often with very widely spaced repeats so as to produce the effect of a mural painting on a wall of average size; sometimes created as a trompe l'oeil (“deceives the eye”).

(4) Of, relating to, or resembling a wall.

(5) Executed on or affixed to a wall.

(6) In early astronomy, pertaining to any of several astronomical instruments that were affixed to a wall aligned on the plane of a meridian; formerly used to measure the altitude of celestial bodies.

1400–1450: From the late Middle English mural, from the Latin mūrālis (of or pertaining to a wall), the construct being mūr(us) (wall) + ālis (the Latin suffix added to a noun or numeral to form an adjective of relationship; alternative forms were āris, ēlis, īlis & ūlis).  The Latin mūrālis was from the Old Latin moiros & moerus, from the primitive Indo-European root mei (to fix; to build fences or fortifications) from which Old English picked-up mære (boundary, border, landmark) and Old Norse gained mæri (boundary, border-land).  In the historic record, the most familiar Latin form was probably munire (to fortify, protect).  The sense of "a painting on a wall" seems to have emerged as late as 1915 as a clipping of "mural-painting" (a painting executed upon the wall of a building), a term in use since at least 1850 and derived from mural in its adjectival form.

The adjective intermural (between walls) dates from the 1650s, from the Latin intermuralis (situated between walls), the construct being from inter- (between) + muralis (pertaining to a wall) from mūrus (wall).  The adjective intramural (within the walls (of a city, building etc)) dates from 1846, the construct being intra- (within) + muralis (pertaining to a wall) from mūrus (wall); it was equivalent to Late Latin intramuranus and in English, was used originally in reference to burials of the dead.  It came first to be used in relation to university matters by Columbia in 1871.  Mural is a noun, verb & adjective; muraled is a verb & adjective, muralist & muralism are nouns and muraling is a verb; the noun plural is murals.  The adjectives murallike, muralish & muralesque are non-standard and the adverb murally is unrelated, murally a term from heraldry meaning “with a mural crown” and used mostly in the technical terms “murally crowned” & “murally gorged”.  A mural crown was a crown or headpiece representing city walls or towers and was used as a military decoration in Ancient Rome and later as a symbol in European heraldry; its most common representation was as a shape recalling the alternating merlons (raised structures extending the wall) atop a castle’s turret which provided defensive positions through which archers could fire.  The style remains familiar in some of the turrets which sometimes on the more extravagant McMansions and in the chess piece properly called the rook but also referred to as a castle.

Lindsay Lohan murals in the style of street art (graffiti): In hijab (al-amira) with kebab roll by an unknown street artist, Melbourne, Australia (left), the photograph the artist took as a template (centre) and in a green theme in Welcome to Venice mural by UK-born Californian street artist Jules Muck (b 1978) (right).  While a resident of Venice Beach, Ms Lohan lived next door to former special friend, DJ Samantha Ronson (b 1977).

In multi-cultural Australia, the kebab roll has become a fixture in the fast-food scene with variations extending from vegan to pure meat, the term “kebab” something of a generic term meaning what the vendor decides it means.  Cross-culturally the kebab roll also fills a niche as the standard 3 am snack enjoyed by those leaving night clubs, a place and time at which appetites are heightened.  After midnight, many kebab rolls are sold by street vendors from mobile carts and those in the Middle East will not be surprised to learn barbaric Australians sometimes add pineapple to their roll.  The photograph of Ms Lohan in hijab was taken during a “doorstop” (an informal press conference) after her visit in October 2016 to Gaziantep (known to locals as Antep), a city in the Republic of Türkiye’s south-eastern Anatolia Region.  The purpose of the visit was to meet with Syrian refugees being housed in Gaziantep’s Nizip district and the floral hijab was a gift from one of the residents who presumably assisted with the placement because there’s an art to a well-worn al-amira.  Ms Muck’s work was a gesture to welcome Ms Lohan moving from Hollywood to Venice Beach and the use of green is a theme in many of her works.  Unfortunately, Ms Lohan’s time in Venice Beach was brief because she was compelled to return to New York City after being stalked by the Freemasons.

Mural montage: Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) osculating with Mr Putin (Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin; b 1952; president or prime minister of Russia since 1999), Benjamin Netanyahu (b 1949; Israeli prime minister 1996-1999, 2009-2021 and since 2022), Boris Johnson (b 1964; UK prime-minister 2019-2022), Francis (1936-2025; pope 2013-2025) and “Lyin’ Ted” Cruz (b 1970; US senator (Republican-Texas) since 2013).

Probably not long after the charcoal and ochre of the first cave paintings was seen by someone other than the artist, there emerged the calling of “art critic” and while the most common fork of that well-populated profession focuses on the aesthetic, art has also long been political.  The mural of course has much scope to be controversial because they tend to be (1) big and (2) installed in public spaces, both aspects making the things highly visible.  Unlike a conventionally sized painting which, even if large, a curator can hang in some obscure spot or put into storage, the mural is just where it is and often part of the built environment; there it will be seen.  In art history, few murals have more intriguing tales than Michelangelo’s (Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni; 1475–1564) ceiling and frescos (1508-1512) in the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel but although there were at the time of the commissioning and completion few theological or political squabbles, there were the Vatican’s usual personal and institutional tensions, cardinals and bishops with their own agendas (some financial) peeking and poking into why Julius II (1443–1513; pope 1503-1513) had handed the juicy contract to someone thought primarily a sculptor rather than a painter.

Sistine Chapel, The Vatican, Rome.

The political stoush came later.  At the time, the nudity had been noted and while some voices were raised in opposition, there was no attempt to censor the work because during the High Renaissance, depictions of nudity (on canvas, in marble etc) were all around including in the Vatican but decades later, during the sittings of the Council of Trent (1545–1563), critiques of “nakedness” in art became more vocal.  That was especially the case after the Counter-Reformation (circa 1550–circa 1670) produced a more severe Church, a development with many repercussions, one of which was the “fig-leaf campaign” in which an artist was commissioned to paint over (especially male) genitalia, the traditional “fig leaf” the preferred device.  Perhaps curiously, despite the early appearance of the motif in the art of Christendom, for centuries the fig leaf wasn’t “obligatory” although they appear often enough that at times they must have been at least “desirable” and in other periods and places clearly “essential”.  The later infamous “Fig Leaf Campaign” was initiated by Pope Paul IV (1476–1559; pope 1555-1559) and continued by his successors although it was most associated with the ruling against “lasciviousness” in religious art made in 1563 by the Council of Trent.  It was something very much in the spirit of the Counter-Reformation and it was Pius IV (1499–1565; pope 1559-1565) who commissioned artist Daniele da Volterra (circa 1509–1566) to paint over the genitalia Michelangelo had depicted on his ceiling, extending his repertoire from strategically positioned leaves to artfully placed draperies or loincloths; Romans to his dying day nicknamed Volterra “Il Braghettone” (the breeches maker).  As late as the nineteenth century Greco-Roman statues from antiquity were still having their genitals covered with fig leaves (sometimes detachable, a trick the British Museum later adopted to protect Victoria’s (1819–1901; Queen of the UK 1837-1901) delicate sensibilities during her infrequent visits).  Another example of practical criticism was the edict by Pius IX (1792–1878; pope 1846-1878) that extant male genitalia on some of the classical statues adorning the Vatican should be “modified” and that involved stonemasons, sculptors and other artisans receiving commissions to “modify or cover” as required, some fig leaves at the time added.  It is however a myth popes sometimes would be seen atop a ladder, chisel in hand, hammering away for not only did they hire "the trades" to do their dirty work, what was done was almost always concealment rather than vandalism.

Then a work in progress, this is one of the few known photographs of Diego Rivera's mural in New York City's Rockefeller Center.  According to the Workers Age of 15 June, 1933, the image was "...taken surreptitiously by one of Rivera's aides..."  

Still, no pope ever ordered Michelangelo’s creation painted over but not all artists were so fortunate.  On 9 May 1933 (by coincidence a day when the Nazis publicly were burning books), New York’s very rich Rockefeller family ordered Mexican artist Diego Rivera (1886-1957) to cease work on his mural depicting "human intelligence in control of the forces of nature", then being painted in the great hall of the 70-storey Rockefeller Center in New York City.  Taking photographs of the mural was also prohibited.  What incurred the family’s wrath was the artist's addition of a depiction of Bolshevik revolutionary comrade Vladimir Lenin (1870–1924; head of government of Russia or Soviet Union 1917-1924) against a background of crowds of unemployed workers.  Comrade Lenin had not appeared in the conceptual sketch (entitled Man at the Crossroads Looking with Hope and High Vision to the Choosing of a New and Better Future) the artist had provided prior to the commission being granted.  Nelson Rockefeller (1908–1979; US vice president 1974-1977 and who earned immortality by having "died on the job") genuinely was a modern art fan-boy and attempted to negotiate a compromise but it was the nadir of the Great Depression, marked by plummeting industrial production, bank failures and an unemployment rate approaching 25%; other family members, knowing there was in the air talk of revolution (the Rockefeller family had much to lose), didn’t want unemployed getting ideas.  To them, Lenin was close to being the devil incarnate and "the devil makes work for idle hands".  The mural was covered by a canvas drape until February 1934 when, under cover of darkness, it was broken up and carted off to be dumped, the family dutifully having paid the artist his US$21,000 fee.

Lollipop

Lollipop (pronounced lol-ee-pop)

(1) A (usually spherical or disc-shaped) piece of hard candy attached to the end of a small stick, held in the hand while the candy is sucked or licked (It was essentially a toffee-apple without the apple; a stick dipped in toffee and the older spelling used in the UK was lollypop (which exists still in modern commerce)).

(2) Something in a shape resembling the candy on a stick.

(3) In the UK, Ireland and the Commonwealth, as lollipop lady (and lollipop man), a school crossing attendant (based on the shape of the "stop/go" signs traditionally used and in the slang of children they're also "lollipoppers".

(4) In computer networking, a routing protocol using sequence numbering starting at a negative value, increasing until zero, at which point it switches indefinitely to cycle through a finite set of positive numbers.

(5) In the labeling of the Android operating system, v5.0 to 5.1.1.

(6) In motorsport, a circular sign on a long stick, used by a pit crew to covey messages to drivers (system still used despite advances in radio communication because (1) it's retained as a backup in case of system failure and (2) the messages can't electronically be monitored and done, with care, can be secret.

(7) In the slang of fashion and related photography, a term for very thin models whose heads thus appear disproportionately large.

(8) Figuratively, something sweet but unsubstantial (originally of literature).

(9) In the slang of musical criticism, a short, entertaining, but undemanding piece of classical music.

1784: A creation of Modern English of uncertain origin but the construct may be the obvious lolly + pop. Lolly was from the Northern English dialect loll (dangle the tongue) and pop was an alternative name for “slap”.  The alternative theory is it was borrowed from the Angloromani (literally "English Romani" and the language combining aspects of English and Romani), which was spoken by the Romani (gypsy, traveller, Roma etc) people in England, Ireland & Wales.  It was in the twentieth century displaced by English but traces remain in the variant English used by modern Roma.  The suggestion is of links with the Angloromani loli phabai (or lollipobbul (red or candy apple)), which was a blend from the Middle Indic lohita (from Sanskrit) and loha (red), drawn from reudh which had Indo-European roots. Among etymologists, the Angloromani connection has most support.  Originally, lollipop seems to have referred just to the boiled sweet (ie "stickless) with the meaning "hard candy on a stick" not noted until the 1920s while the figurative sense (something sweet but unsubstantial) was in use by at least 1849.  Used in the slang of catwalk photographers, the verb lollipopping (a stick-thin model walking down catwalk) and adjective lollipopish (a model close to thin enough to be a true "lollipop") are both non-standard.  Among the pill-poppers, there seems to be a consensus that post-rave, the best lollipops are lemon-flavored.  In commerce, the spelling varies including lollipop, lollypop, loli-pop, lollypopp and lolly-pop.  Lollipop & lollipopper are nouns and lollipoplike is an adjective; the noun plural is lollipops.

Lindsay Lohan (b 1986) enjoying a giant lollipop.

In classical music criticism, the term “lollipop” refers to short, appealing and often melodically charming pieces which were nevertheless judged as “lightweight in musical substance”.  Deployed often as “palate-cleansers” or encores, despite the opinions of many critics, composers, conductors and musicians, the bulk of the audience tended to enjoy them because in character they were often jaunty and playful, not something which endeared them to the earnest types who decided what deserved to be the canon of the “serious” repertoire in which complexity was valued above accessibility.  A well-known exponent the genre was Johann Strauss II (1825–1899) and his An der schönen blauen Donau, Op. 314 (On the Beautiful Blue Danube (better known in English as The Blue Danube (1866)) and Tritsch-Tratsch-Polka, Op. 214 (Chit-chat (1858)) are exemplars of his technique.  The reason the lollipops were and remain popular with general audiences (typically not trained in any aspect of music) is that they paid their money to be entertained by listening to something they could enjoy, not always the experience delivered by the composers who preferred “the experimental”, valuing originality over beauty; these were the “formalists” (as comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) once labeled comrade Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) and they may be compared with the modern generation of architects churning out ugly buildings because prizes in their profession are awarded on the basis of work being “new” rather than “attractive”.  Neither art deco nor mid-century modern buildings are in any way “lollipops” but the committees which award prizes in architecture probably think of them that way.

Britney Spears (b 1981) with lollipop, emerging from a session in a West Hollywood tanning salon, Los Angeles, October, 2022.

Many composers at least dabbled in lollipop production and some were memorable, French composer Claude Debussy’s (1862–1918) Clair de Lune (1890) hauntingly beautiful and demanding nothing more from a listener than to sit and let it wash over them; even comrade Stalin (who liked tunes he could hum) would have enjoyed it despite Debussy being French.  Others were specialists in the genre including: (1) the Austrian-American Friedrich "Fritz" Kreisler (1875–1962) who published a few of his compositions under wholly fictitious “old” names to lend them some “classic” respectability, (2) the English conductor Sir Thomas Beecham (1879–1961) who had a reputation among his peers for treating his music with about the same seriousness as he handled his many relationships with women and it was his encores and brief “concert fillers” which more than anything popularized use of “lollipop” in this context; he was also a practical impresario who noted what pleased the crowd and sometime constructed entire concerts with them, (3) Leopold Stokowski (1882–1977), a British conductor of Polish extraction noted for his arrangements of the works of Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750), pieces for which the appellation “lush” would have had to been coined had it not existed and (4) the Australian Percy Grainger (1882–1961) a man of not always conventional tastes & predilections who enjoyed and unusually close relationship with his mother although whether any of that in any way influenced his folk-inspired miniatures (quintessential lollipops) is a matter for debate.  What can’t be denied is that for the untrained, a hour or two of lollipop music will probably be enjoyed more than listening to the strains of stuff by Béla Bartók (1881-1945) or Arnold Schoenberg (1874–1951), the composers the critics think would be good for us.

A pandemic-era Paris Hilton (b 1981) in face mask with Whirly Pop lollipop.  Always remove facemask before attempting to lick or suck lollipop.

How to make lemon lollipops

Among the pill-poppers (and there are a lot of them about), there seems, at least impressionistically, to be a consensus that post-rave, the best lollipops are lemon-flavored.  It’s thought lemon lollipops work best in this niche because the acidic content interacts with taste receptors enjoying a heightened sensitivity induced by the pills’ chemistry.  Ideally, pill-poppers should pre-purchase lemon lollypops and at all times carry a few (on the basis of the (Boy) Scout motto: “Be prepared”) but that’s not always possible because, there being so many pill-poppers, shops often are out of stock of the lemon flavor.

Lemon Lollipops.

This recipe is therefore provided as a courtesy to pill poppers and, having shelf-life of weeks, lollipops can be prepared in advance; except for those popping at a heroic level, a batch should last a week so users should add the task to their routine, scheduling it perhaps after church every Sunday.  Lollipop sticks and one or more (depending on production target) lollypop molds will be required and the volume of ingredients quoted here should yield 24 small or 10-12 large lollipops.  Sticks and molds are available at supermarkets and speciality stores as are the small cellophane bags (needed only if some or all are being stored).  The taste can be varied by (slightly) adjusting the volumes of sugar, citric acid & lemon oil and preferences will vary between pill-poppers who are encouraged to experiment.

Ingredients (lollipops)

1 cup (200 g) sugar
½ cup (120 ml) water
¼ cup (60 ml) light corn syrup
1¼ teaspoons citric acid
¾ teaspoon lemon oil
2-4 (according to preference) drops liquid yellow food coloring

Ingredients (sour powder)

½ cup (50 g) confectioners' sugar
2 teaspoons citric acid

Directions (lollipops)

(1) Coat lollipop molds with non-stick cooking spray.

(2) Place lollipop sticks in the molds.

(3) Combine the sugar, water, and corn syrup in a large, heavy saucepan and then bring mix to a boil over medium-high heat.

(4) Continue cooking until mixture reaches 300°F (150°C) which is the “hard-crack” stage.  Immediately remove saucepan from the heat.  The timing is critical so watch pot during cooking.

(5) Add citric acid, lemon oil and food coloring and stir to combine.  (Because of the acidic nature of the mix, don’t allow face to come too close to pot because fumes can irritate the eyes).

(6) Pour the mixture into a heatproof measuring container with spout (or a candy funnel (which every pill-popper should own)).

(7) Divide the mixture among prepared molds and leave lollipops to cool and harden.  After about 15 minutes, they should be ready to remove from mold (may take longer if temperature or humidity are high).

Directions (sour powder)

(1) Mix confectioners’ sugar and citric acid in bowl.

(2) Holding by stick, dip lollipops in mixture, coating entire surface.

(3) Lollipops may immediately be consumed but if being stored, wrap in cellophane bags and twist-tie.  Store lollipops in cool, dark, dry place (they'll remain in a “best by” state for about a month). 

Blowout

Blowout (pronounced bloh-out)

(1) A sudden puncturing of a pneumatic tyre.

(2) A sudden release of oil and gas from a well.

(3) In geology, a sandy depression in a sand dune ecosystem caused by the removal of sediments by wind.

(4) An extreme and unexpected increase in costs, such as in government estimates for a project (a popular Australian use although the budgetary outcomes are familiar just about everywhere).

(5) In medical slang, an act of defecation in which an incontinent person (usually an infant or toddler) produces a large amount of excrement that causes their diaper to overflow and leak (the companion slang the “poonami”).

(6) In engineering, the cleaning of the flues of a boiler from scale etc by blasting the surfaces with steam.

(7) In body-piercing, an unsightly flap of skin caused by an ear piercing that is too large.

(8) An instance of having one's hair blow-dried and styled.

(9) In tattooing, the blurring of a tattoo due to ink penetrating too far into the skin and dispersing.

(10) In woodworking, the damage done to the exit side of a drilled hole or sawn edge when no sacrificial backer-board is used during the drilling or sawing: the drill bit's or saw blade's exit on the far side causes chips of wood to be broken from the edge (sometimes called a “tearout”).

(11) In slang, a social function, especially one with extravagant catering.

(12) In slang, a large or extravagant meal.

(13) In slang, a sporting contest in which one side wins by an untypically wide margin; an overwhelming victory.

(14) In slang, an argument; an altercation.

(15) In Filipino slang, a party or social gathering.

1825: A creation of US colloquial English (the construct being blow + out) in the sense of “outburst, brouhaha” (and in a subtle linguistic shift such events would now, inter alia, be called a “blow-up”), from the verbal phrase, the reference being to pressure in a steam engine.  The elements “blow” and “out” both have many senses and the compound blowout is formed from the verb “blow” in the sense of “burst” or “explosion” plus the verb “out” in the sense of “eject or expel; discharge; oust”.  The verb blow was a pre-1000 form from the Middle English verb blowen, from the Old English blāwan (to blow, breathe, make a current of air, inflate, sound), from the Proto-West Germanic blāan, from the Proto-Germanic blēaną (to blow), from primitive Indo-European bhleh- (to swell, blow up) and may be compared with the Old High German blāen, the Latin flō (to blow) and the Old Armenian բեղուն (bełun) (fertile).  The verb out was from the pre-900 Middle English adverb out, from the Old English ūt (out, without, outside).  It was cognate with the Dutch uit, the German aus, the Old Norse & Gothic ūt and was akin to the Sanskrit ud-.  The Middle English verb was outen, from the Old English ūtian (to put out) and cognate with the Old Frisian ūtia.  Blowout is a noun; the noun plural is blowouts and the use as a verb non-standard.

The blowout as a source of irony.

Blowout is used as a modifier.  In retail commerce, a “blowout sale” is an event advertised as offering greater than usual discounts, with a real or notional intent to deplete the inventory.  Unlike the various uses in hairdressing, blowouts can be undesirable events and devices have been devised which prevent their unwanted occurrence: In electrical engineering a blowout coil (carrying an electric current) serves to deflect and thus extinguish an arc formed when the contacts of a switch part to turn off the current and in the messy business of drilling for oil, a “blowout preventer” is placed at the surface interface of an oil well to prevent blowouts by closing the orifice, allowing material to flow from the oil reservoir out through the shaft.  By contrast, in hairdressing, variants of the blowout deliberately are part of the process and in one use blowout is a generic descriptor of the taper fade (of which there are several variants.  There’s also the Brazilian blowout, a method temporarily to achieve straightening the hair by sealing a liquid keratin and preservative solution into the hair with a styling wand (hair iron).

1969 Ford Falcon GTHO #60 (Fred Gibson (b 1941) & Barry “Bo” Seton (b 1936)) on its roof after a blowout of the right-rear tyre, Mount Panorama, Bathurst, Australia. 

In motorsport there have been some famous tyre blowouts and in Australia, in 1969, it was exactly that which doomed the first appearance at Bathurst of the Falcon GTHO, a car purpose-built for the event with “a relief map of the Mount Panorama circuit in one hand and a bucket of Ford’s money in the other”.  As it would prove in subsequent years, the GTHO was ideal for the purpose but in 1969 the choice of some then exotic US-made Goodyear racing tyres proved an innovation too far, one of several blowouts resulting in a Ford works car ending on its roof.  Being an anti-clockwise circuit, it was the right-had tyres which were subject to the highest loads and, built for racing, the Phase I GTHOs were set-up to oversteer, further increasing the wear.  For next year, Ford doubled down, the Phase II GTHOs famous for their prodigious oversteer but this time the suspension was tuned to suit the tyres.

As a routine procedure, a “steam blowout” is carried out to remove the debris from superheaters and re-heaters that accumulate during manufacturing and installation, the purpose being to prevent damage to turbine blades and valves.  In the usual course of operation, a “blowout” is the release of excessive steam (ie pressure) via a “blow-off valve”.  The meaning “abundant feast” dates from 1824 while that of “the bursting of an automobile tire” was in use by at least 1908.  The alternative forms blow-out & blow out are also in use, especially when applied to tyres and the un-hyphenated from was chosen for the title of Blow Out (1981), a movie by US director Brian De Palma (b 1940)in which the plot hinged on whether it was a gunshot which caused a tyre to blow out.

Manfred von Brauchitsch in Mercedes-Benz W25B (#7) in front of the pits at the end of 1935 German Grand Prix, Nürbugring, 28 July 1935.  The left-rear tyre which suffered a last-lap blowout has disintegrated, the car driven to fourth place on the rim for the final 7 km (4.4 miles).

The most famous blowout however was that which happened on the last lap of the 1935 German Grand Prix, run before 220,000 spectators in treacherously wet conditions on the Nürbugring circuit in the Eifel mountains, then in its classic and challenging pre-war configuration of 22.7 km (14.1 miles).  The pre-race favourites were the then dominant straight-8 Mercedes-Benz W25s and V16 Auto Union Type Bs (both generously subsidized by the Nazi state) but, powerful, heavy and difficult to handle in wet conditions, their advantages substantially were negated, allowing what should have been the delicate but out-classed straight-8 Alfa Romeo P3s to be competitive and in the gifted hands of the Italian Tazio Nuvolari (1892–1953), one won the race.  The last lap was among the most dramatic in grand prix history, the Mercedes-Benz W25B of Manfred von Brauchitsch (1905–2003) holding a winning lead until a rear-tyre blowout, the car limping to the finish-line on a bare rim to secure fourth place.  Von Brauchitsch was the nephew of Generalfeldmarschall Walther von Brauchitsch (1881–1948), the imposing but ineffectual Oberbefehlshaber (Commander-in-Chief) of OKH (Oberkommando des Heeres (the German army's high command)) between 1938-1941.

Lindsay Lohan on the cover of Vogue Czechoslovakia, May 2025, photographed by the Morelli Brothers.

That there should be a Vogue Czechoslovakia despite the state of Czechoslovakia ceasing to be after 31 December 1992 may seem strange but the publication does exist and is sold in both the Czech Republic and Slovakia.  Launched in 2018, it was the first edition of Vogue published in either country and the title was an obvious choice for Condé Nast because in addition to the shared cultural heritage, there were no negative associations with the name “Czechoslovakia”; so amicable was the 1992 separation of the two states it was styled the “Velvet Divorce”.  Other attractions included branding & recognition (“Czechoslovakia” still enjoying strong international recognition because the component elements of the name have been retained by the new states so it has not passed into history like “Yugoslavia” when it broke up amidst war and slaughter) and the economies of scale gained by producing a single edition for two markets.  That reflects a general industry trend, the Czech Republic & Slovakia often treated as a single media market because of their (1) linguistic similarity, (2) cultural overlap and shared (though often troubled) history.  It worked out well for Conde Nast because they got a retro-modern identity evocative of a culturally rich past with a contemporary twist.

Lindsay Lohan’s Almond Milk Upper East Blowout hairstyle, Vogue Czechoslovakia, May 2025.

Czechoslovakia was created in 1918 when the Austro-Hungarian Empire of the Hapsburgs was dissolved and in this form it existed until dismembered progressively, beginning with the well-intentioned but shameful Munich Agreement in 1938.  After World War II (1939-1945), Czechoslovakia was re-established under its pre-1938 borders (with the exception of Carpathian Ruthenia, which became part of Soviet Union) but its fate was sealed when in 1948 the Communist Party (approved by comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) staged a coup and seized power, integrating the country behind the Iron Curtain into the Moscow-centric Eastern Bloc joining Comecon (Council for Mutual Economic Assistance, a kind of “Marshall Plan by rubles”) in 1955 and the Warsaw Pact (the Soviet’s counterpoint to NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization) in 1955.  An uprising in 1968 (the so called “Prague Spring”) seeking political & economic liberalization ruthlessly was crushed by Russian tank formations sent by Leonid Brezhnev (1906–1982; Soviet leader 1964-1982) and it wasn’t until 1989, following the fall of the Berlin Wall, the people peacefully overthrew Communist Party rule in what was labelled the “Velvet Revolution”, thus the adoption of “Velvet Divorce” to describe the unusually quiet (and not at all bloody) constitutional separation of the two sovereign states.

Lindsay Lohan in halter neck black dress with white bodice and stylized bow, her Upper East Blowout under an outrageously extravagant tulle hat, Vogue Czechoslovakia, May, 2025.

The Hairstyle used for Lindsay Lohan’s Vogue cover shoot is known as the “Upper East Blowout”, designed deliberately to evoke the glamour of the stars from the golden age of Hollywood (essentially the 1930s-1950s) and the particular one worn by Ms Lohan specifically was called an “Almond Milk Upper East Blowout”, a construct which seems an intriguing piece of subliminal marketing.  “Almond Milk” was a obviously an allusion to the color but the fluid is also a pleasingly expensive (an important association in product-positioning) and trendy alternative to the mainstream dairy offerings with obvious appeal to vegetarians, vegans and animal rights activists.  For some it can be a wise choice, nutritionists noting (unsweetened) almond milk is a good source of vitamin-E and is lower in calories, protein, sugar and saturated fat while cow’s milk is more nutrient-dense and higher in protein, naturally containing lactose and saturated fats.  Because of that, fortification is essential for almond milk to match dairy milk’s micro-nutrient content but for those choosing on the basis of their dietary regime (vegans, the lactose intolerant etc), unsweetened, fortified almond can be a healthy option.  The “Upper East Side” element is a reference to the neighborhood in the borough of New York City’s (NYC) Manhattan.  Because of the vagueness in NYC’s neighborhood boundaries (they’re not officially gazetted), opinions vary as to where the place begins and ends but in the popular (and certainly the international) imagination, “Upper East Side” is most associated with places such as Fifth Avenue and Central Park which lie to the west.  While New Yorkers may not always know exactly what the Upper East Side is, they have no doubts about which parts definitely are NOT UES.  Long regarded as the richest and thus most prestigious of the New York boroughs, by the late nineteenth century informally it was known as the “silk stocking district”, the idea reflected still in the desirable real estate, expensive shops along Madison Avenue and its cluster of cultural institutions including the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Frick Collection and the Guggenheim Museum.

Jessica Rabbit in characteristic pose (left) and Lindsay Lohan with "almond milk Upper East Blowout" hairstyle in black leather corset with silk laces and stainless steel eyelets.

Technically, the hairstyle is a “blowout” because historically the look was achieved with a combination of product & blow dryer; that’s still how most are done.  Because the really dramatic blowouts demand significant volume (ideally of “thick” hair), it can’t be achieved by everyone in their natural state and for Ms Lohan’s cover shot celebrity hairstylist Dimitris Giannetos (b 1983, Instagram: @dimitrishair) engineered things using a wig by Noah Scott (b 1998, Instagram: @whatwigs) of What Wigs, the industry’s go-to source for extravagant hair-pieces.  The use of “almond milk” to describe a shade of blonde was a bit opportunistic and would seem very similar to hues known variously as “light cool”, “light golden”, “champagne”, “golden honey” & “light ombre” but product differentiation is there to be grabbed and it seems to have caught on so it’ll be interesting to see if it gains industry support and endures to become one of the “standard blondes”.  So the linguistic effect is intended to be accumulative, Mr Giannetos calling his “Upper East blowout” “an homage” to the New York of the popular imagination and some of the hairstyles which appeared in the publicity shots of golden age Hollywood stars, memorably captured by the depiction of Jessica Rabbit in Robert Zemeckis’s (b 1952) live/animated toon hybrid movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988).  Think luxuriant waves meet old money.

However, a Vogue cover shot in a well-lit studio and created using a custom-made wig, styled by an expert hairdresser is one thing but to replicate the look IRL (in real life) is another because, despite what shampoo advertisements would have us believe, “high-gloss” rarely just happens and even with a wig, to achieve the required fullness and visual volume usually demands what needs to be understood as structural engineering.  Usually, this will necessitate “…extensions set in pin curls, then brushed out meticulously…” before being shaped with the appropriate product as a device.  Expectations need to be realistic because with each change in camera angle, it can be necessary to “re-blow and re-style”; while it’s not quite that each strand needs to be massages into place for each shot, that can be true of each wave and just because the hair looks soft and bouncy in the images on a magazine’s glossy pages, the use of fudge or moose to achieve the look can render locks IRL remarkable rigid.

Accidie

Accidie (pronounced ak-si-dee)

Sloth; apathy, in the sense of both (1) a general listlessness and apathy and (2) spiritual torpor.

1200–1250: From the Middle English accidie, from the Anglo-Norman accidie, from the Old French accide & accidie, from the Medieval Latin accidia (an alteration of Late Latin acedia (sloth, torpor), from the Ancient Greek ἀκήδεια (akḗdeia) (indifference), the construct being ἀ- (a-) (in the sense of “not”) +‎ κῆδος (kêdos).  It was a doublet of acedia, still cited as an alternative form and replaced the Middle English accide.  The word was in active use between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries and was revived in the nineteenth as a literary adornment.  Accidie and acediast are nouns and acedious is an adjective; the noun plural is acediasts.

The alternative literary words include (1) ennui (a gripping listlessness or melancholia caused by boredom; depression), an unadapted borrowing from the French ennui, from the Old French enui (annoyance), from enuier (which in Modern French persists as ennuyer), from the Late Latin inodiō, from the Latin in odiō (hated) and a doublet of annoy, (2) weltschmerz, used as an alternative letter-case form of the German Weltschmerz (an apathetic or pessimistic view of life; depression concerning or discomfort with the human condition or state of the world; world-weariness), the construct being Welt (world) + Schmerz (physical ache, pain; emotional pain, heartache, sorrow) and coined by German Romantic writer Jean Paul (1763–1825) for his novel Selina (published posthumously in 1827) and (3) mal du siècle (apathy and world-weariness, involving pessimism towards the current state of the world, often along with nostalgia for the past (originally in the context of French Romanticism) (literally “disease of the century”) and coined by the French writer Alfred de Musset in his autobiographical novel La Confession d'un enfant du siècle (The Confession of a Child of the Century (1936)).

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

In Antiquity, the Greeks seemed to have refined accidie (which translated literally as being in “a state so inert as the be devoid of pain or care”) to be used of those who has become listless and no longer cared for their own lives or their society, thus distinguishing it from other conditions of melancholy which tended to be individually focused although in surviving medical texts, what’s being diagnosed was something like what might now be called “depression”.  Predictably, when adopted by moral theologians in Christian writing, it was depicted as a sin or at least a personal flaw.  Others wrote of it as a “demon” to be overcome and even a temptation placed by the Devil, one to which “young men who read poetry” seem to have been chronically prone.  It can be thought of as falling into the category of sloth, listed in the Medieval Latin tradition as of the seven deadly sins and appeared in Dante Alighieri’s (circa 1265–1321) Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)) not only as a sin worthy of damnation & eternal punishment but the very sin which led Dante to the edge of Hell.  In his unfinished Summa Theologiae (literally Summary of Theology), the Italian Dominican friar, philosopher & theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) noted accidie was a spiritual sorrow, induced by man’s flight from the Divine good, “…on account of the flesh utterly prevailing over the spirit”, the kind of despair which can culminate in the even greater sin of suicide.

Google ngram: Accidie 1800-2020.

Google ngram: 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.

Etymologists note that between the mid sixteenth and mid nineteenth centuries the word acedia was close to extinct and whether it was the revival of interest in the Romantic poets (often a glum lot) or the increasing number of women becoming novelists, there was in the late 1800s a revival with the term, once the preserve of theologians, re-purposed as a decorative literary word; in the “terrible twentieth century” there was much scope for use and it appears in the writings of Ian Fleming (1908–1964), Aldous Huxley (1894–1963) and Samuel Beckett (1906-1989).  Intriguingly, in The Decline and Fall of Nokia (2014), Finnish-based expatriate US writer David J Cord introduced the concept of corporate acedia, citing the phenomenon as one of the causes of the collapse of Nokia's once dominant mobile device unit.

Joan Didion (1934-2021) and cigarette with her Daytona Yellow (OEM code 984) 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray (on the C2 Corvette (1963-1967) and in 1968 the spelling had been "Sting Ray”).  The monochrome image was from a photo-session commissioned in 1970 by Life magazine and shot by staff photographer Julian Wasser (1933-2023), outside the house she was renting on Franklin Avenue in the Hollywood Hills.  To great acclaim, her first work of non-fiction, Slouching Towards Bethlehem (1968), had just been published.

Writing mostly, in one way or another, about “feelings”, Joan Didion’s work appealed mostly to a female readership but when photographs were published of her posing with her bright yellow Corvette, among men presumably she gained some “street cred” although that might have evaporated had they learned it was later traded for a Volvo; adding insult to injury, it was a Volvo station wagon with all that implies.  She was later interviewed about the apparent incongruity between owner and machine and acknowledged the strangeness, commenting: “I very definitely remember buying the Stingray because it was a crazy thing to do.  I bought it in Hollywood.”  Craziness and Hollywood were then of course synonymous and a C3 Corvette (1968-1982) really was the ideal symbol of the America about which Ms Didion wrote, being loud, flashy, rendered in plastic and flawed yet underpinned by a solid, well-engineered foundation; the notion of the former detracting from the latter was theme in in her essays on the American experience.

A 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray in Daytona Yellow.

Disillusioned, melancholic and clinical, Ms Didion’s literary oeuvre suited the moment because while obviously political it was also spiritual, a critique of what she called the “accidie” of the late 1960s, the moral torpor of those disappointed by what had followed the hope and optimism captured by “Camelot”, the White House of John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963).  In retrospect Camelot was illusory but that of course made real the disillusionment of Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) leading the people not to a “great society” but deeper into Vietnam.  Her essays were in the style of the “new journalism” and sometimes compared with those of her contemporary Susan Sontag (1933-2004) but the two differed in method, tone, ideological orientation and, debatably, expectation if not purpose.

Susan Sontag (1962), monochrome image by Village Voice staff photographer Fred McDarrah (1926–2007).

Ms Didion’s used accidie to describe a society which the troubled 1960s seemed to have bludgeoned into a state not of acquiescence but indifference, a moral exhaustion.  Her writings were observational (and, as she admitted, sometimes “embellished” for didactic purposes), sceptical and cool, her conception of the failure of contemporary politics a matter of describing the disconnect between rhetoric and reality, understanding the language of theatre criticism was as appropriate as that of the lexicon of political science.  In a sense, 'twas ever thus but Ms Didion captured the imagination by illustrating just how far from the moorings of reality the political spectacle of myth-making had drifted.  Ms Sontag’s tone was declarative and distinctly authoritative (in the way of second-wave feminism), tending often to the polemic and the sense was she was writing in opposition to a collective immorality, not the kind of moral indifference Ms Didion detected.  Both were students of their nation’s cultural pathology but one seemed more a palliative care specialist tending a patient in their dying days while the other offered a diagnosis and suggested a cure which, while not something to enjoy: "would be good for them".  While Ms Didion distrusted ideological certainty, Ms Sontag engaged explicitly with “isms”, not in the sense of one writing of the history of ideas but as a protagonist, using language in an attempt to shape political consciousness, the former a kind of secular moral theologian mourning a loss of coherence in American life while the latter was passionate and wrote often with a strident urgency, never losing the sense that whatever her criticisms, things could be fixed and there was hope.  The irony of being an author to some degree afflicted by the very accide she described in others was not lost on Ms Didion.

Susan Sontag, circa 1971, photographed by Jim Cartier.  The pop-art portrait of comrade Chairman Mao Zedong (1893–1976; chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 1949-1976) was a print of Roy Lichtenstein's (1923–1997) Mao (1971) which had been used as the cover for US author Frederic Tuten's (b 1936) novel The Adventures of Mao on the Long March (1971).  Ms Sontag had written a most favourable review of the book and the framed print was reputedly a gift.

Joan Didion with Corvette, another image from Julian Wasser’s 1970 photo-shoot.  The staging in this one is for feminists to ponder.

While a stretch to say that in trading-in the Corvette for a Volvo station wagon, Ms Didion was tracking the nation which had moved from Kennedy to Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), it’s too tempting not to make.  Of the Corvette, she used the phrase: “I gave up on it”, later recounting: “the dealer was baffled” but denied the change was related to moving after eight years from Malibu to leafy, up-market suburban Brentwood.  While she “…needed a new car because with the Corvette something was always wrong…” she “…didn’t need a Volvo station wagon” although did concede: “Maybe it was the idea of moving into Brentwood.”  She should have persevered because as many an owner of a C3 Corvette understands, the faults and flaws are just part of the brutish charm.  Whether the car still exists isn't known; while Corvette's have a higher than average survival rate, their use on drag strips & race tracks as well as their attractiveness to males aged 17-25 has meant not a few suffered misadventure.

Joan Didion with Corvette, rendered as oil on canvas with yellow filter.

The configuration of her car seems not anywhere documented but a reasonable guess is it likely was ordered with the (base) 300 horsepower (hp) version (ZQ3) of the 350 cubic inch (5.7 litre) small-block V8, coupled with the Turbo-Hydramatic 400 (TH400) (M40) three-speed automatic transmission (the lighter TH350 wouldn't be used until 1976 by which time power outputs had fallen so much the robustness of the TH400 was no longer required).  When scanning the option list, although things like the side-mounted exhaust system (N14) or the 430 hp versions (the iron-block L88 & all aluminium ZL1, the power ratings of what were barely-disguised race car engines deliberately understated, the true output between 540-560 hp) of the 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) big-block V8 would not have tempted Ms Didion, she may have ticked the box for the leather trim (available in six colors and the photos do suggest black (402 (but if vinyl the code was ZQ4)), air conditioning (C60), power steering (N40), power brakes (J50), power windows (A31) or an AM-FM radio (U69 and available also (at extra cost) with stereo (U79)).  Given she later traded-in the Corvette on a Volvo station wagon, presumably the speed warning indicator (U15) would have been thought superfluous but, living in Malibu, the alarm system (UA6) might have caught her eye.

An emo with 1977 Volvo 245 station wagon; if she had a Corvette to pose with she’d be smiling because Corvettes can make even emos happy.  This is Emma Myers (b 2002) as Pippa "Pip" Fitz-Amobi in A Good Girl's Guide to Murder (Netflix, 2024).

Quintessential symbols of France, Bridget Bardot (b 1934), Citroën La Déesse and a lit Gitanes.

The combination of a car, a woman with JBF and a cigarette continued to draw photographers even after smoking ceased to be glamorous and became a social crime.  First sold in 1910, Gitanes production in France survived two world wars, the Great Depression, Nazi occupation but the regime of Jacques Chirac (1932–2019; President of France 1995-2007) proved too much and, following the assault on tobacco by Brussels and Paris, in 2005 the factory in Lille was shuttered.  Although Gitanes (and the sister cigarette Gauloise) remain available in France, they are now shipped from Spain and while in most of the Western world fewer now smoke, Gitanes Blondes retain a cult following.

Emily Labowe with Mercedes-Benz 300 TD (S123), photographed by Kristin Gallegos.

An image like this illustrates why, even if no longer thought glamourous, smoking can still look sexy.  The 300 TD is finished in Manila Beige and for the W123 range Mercedes-Benz also offered the subdued Maple Yellow and the exuberant Sun Yellow which was as vivid as the Corvette's Daytona Yellow. 

No images seem to exist of Ms Didion with her Volvo station wagon but Laurel Canyon's Kristin Gallegos (b 1984) later followed Julian Wasser’s staging by photographing artist Emily Labowe (b 1993) with a Mercedes-Benz 300 TD station wagon and that once essential accessory: a cigarette.  One of the last of the “chrome Mercedes”, the W123 range was in production between 1975-1986 and the station wagon appeared in 1977 with the internal code S123 (only nerds use that and to the rest of the world they’re “W123 wagons”).  The designation was “T” (the very Germanic Tourismus und Transport (Touring and Transport)) or TD for the diesel-powered cars and the S123 was the company’s first station wagon to enter series production, previous such “long roof” models coming from coach-builders including many hearses & ambulances as well as station wagons.  The English still call station wagons "estates" (a clipping of "estate car") although a publication like Country Life probably still hankers after "shooting brake" and the most Prussian of the German style guides list the compound noun Kombinationskraftwagen which for decades has usually been clipped to the semi-formal Kombiwagen, (plural Kombiwagen or Kombiwägen) or, in general use: Kombi.

1978 Mercedes Benz 280 TE (S123).

That Mercedes-Benz in the mid-1970s decided their first station wagon in regular production should be a “T” (and understood as a Tourenwagen (touring car) rather than a “K” (ie Kombiwagen, the designation used by other manufacturers) reflected the prevailing German view of such cars.  Unlike the US where station wagons had long been emblematic of middle-class respectability (often as a family’s second car for the wife & mother) or England where the style enjoyed an association with the upper class HFS (huntin’, fishin’ & shootin’) set, to Germans the utilitarian long-roofs had a down-market image, bought only by those unable to afford separate vehicles for business & pleasure.  Coach-builders had of course used Mercedes-Benz saloons as the basis for station wagons, ambulances and hearses but these were always expensive and thus not tainted by association with thriftiness by necessity.  In their alphanumeric soup of model designations, Mercedes-Benz had previously used “K” to mean either Kompressor (supercharged) (eg 770 K) or Kurz  (short) (eg SSK) and other letters had also done double-duty, “L” standing for either Lang (long) (eg 500 SEL) or Licht (light) (eg SSKL) and “S” could mean both Super (300 SL) or Sports (300 SLR) so for the S123 “K” wasn’t avoided because of fears of confusing folk; it was just an image thing: "Don't mention the kombi".  That all changed in the 1980s when the Germans decided wagons were sexy after all, the high performance arms of Audi, BMW & Mercedes-Benz all producing some remarkably fast ones.   

Mercedes-Benz G4s: Gepäckwagen (baggage car, top left) & Funkauto (radio car, top right) and 300 Messwagen (bottom left) at speed on the test track, tethered to a W111 sedan (1959-1968, bottom right).

The factory did though over the decades build a handful including a brace of the three-axle G4s (W31, 1934-1939), one configured as a Gepäckwagen (baggage car), the other a Funkauto (radio car).  In 1960 there was also the Messwagen (measuring car), a kind of “rolling laboratory” from the era before technology allowed most testing to be emulated in software.  The capacious Messwagen was based on the W189 300 “Adenauer” (W186 & W189 1951-1962) and was then state of the art but by the 2020s, the capabilities of all the bulky equipment which filled the rear compartment could have been included in a single phone app.  Students of design will admire the mid-century modernism in the curve of the rear-side windows but might be surprised to learn the muscle car-like scoop on the roof is not an air-intake but an aperture housing ports for connecting the Messwagen’s electronic gear with the vehicle being monitored, the two closely driven in unison (often at high speed) on the test track while being linked with a few metres of cabling and although we now live in a wireless age, real nerds know often a cable is preferable, the old ways sometimes best.  The Messwagen remained in service until 1972 and is now on display at the factory’s museum in Stuttgart.   

1956 Mercedes-Benz 300c (W186 "Adenauer") Estate Car by Binz.

The factory's Messwagen wasn't the first use of the big W186/W189 for long-roof variants, hearses and ambulances having appeared in several European countries and there was at least one station wagon, proving consumption can be conspicuous yet still subtle, achieved usually if a bespoke creation is both expensive and functional.  The 300 saloons and four-door cabriolets were large, stately and beautifully built, the 1956 example pictured was delivered to a customer in the US who for whatever reason prized exclusivity over capacity or speed, all the major US manufacturers at the time offering station wagons able to accommodate more people and more more luggage while going much faster.  The 300 certainly would have delivered better fuel economy but that wouldn't have crossed the mind of the purchaser who would have been deterred from something like a Chrysler New Yorker or Ford Country Squire because they were, by comparison with her one-off, cheap and common whereas a custom built 300 “dripped money”; even to the uninformed they would obviously have been expensive and it was thus a classic "Veblen good" a quirk in the supply & demand curve of orthodox economics in that for a certain (ie the "1%") demographic demand for an item can increase as its price rises.  The car still exists, traded between collectors to be exhibited at concours d'elegance.

1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser (left), details of the apparatuses above the windscreen (centre) and the Breezeaway rear window lowered (right)

The 1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser was notable for (1) the truly memorable model name, (2) the “Breezeway" rear window which could be lowered and (3) having a truly bizarre assembly  of “features” above the windscreen.  There’s no suggestion that when fashioning the 300 Messwagen the engineers in Stuttgart were aware of the Turnpike Cruiser but had they looked, it could have provided an inspiration for the way access to ports in the roof could have been handled.  Unfortunately, the pair of “radio aerials” protruding from the pods at the top of the Mercury’s A-pillars were a mere affectation, a “jet-age” motif embellishing what were actually air-intakes.  They were though a harbinger of the way in which future “measuring vehicles” would be configured when various forms of wireless communication had advanced to the point at which a cable connection was no longer required.