Fluff

Fluff (pronounced fluhf)

(1) Light, downy particles, as of cotton.

(2) A soft, light, downy mass.

(3) In slang, a cloth diaper (nappy).

(4) In slang (New England region in the US), marshmallow crème, thus the local delicacy the “fluffernutter” (a sandwich made with peanut butter and marshmallow fluff), once a favorite of children’s school lunches but now likely to attract “mom shaming” on Instagram.

(5) In LGBTQQIAAOP slang, the passive partner in a lesbian relationship, known also as a “ruffle” (unfortunately the dominant partner is not known as a “flounce” which seems a missed linguistic opportunity).

(6) In slang, (Australia, New Zealand, Canada), a fart.

(7) In the slang of pop-culture fandom, fan fiction (in whole or in part) is “sweet and feel-good” in tone, often involving romance.

(8) In the slang (UK) of the role-playing game community, a form of role-playing that is inconsequential and not related to the plot; it's used sometimes in the context of (but not limited to)  “fulling in time”.

(9) In UK slang, short change deliberately given by a railway clerk (keeping the money for themselves), an clipping of “deliberate fluff” (obsolete).

(10) Figuratively, something of no consequence; insubstantial. 

(11) Figuratively (of literature, political argument, philosophy etc), a slight work or one of dubious artistic or intellectual value; unscholarly (used also as a polite euphemism for BS (bullshit), being less explicit than “cattle feces” (faeces in non-US English)).

(12) An error (flub, lapse, blooper, blunder, boo-boo, defect, error, fault, faux pas, gaffe, lapse, mistake, slip, stumble, brain-fart, brain-explosion), especially an actor's memory lapse in the delivery of lines (often in the form “fluffed their lines”).

(13) A young woman (often as “a bit of fluff”), the implication being of her providing a brief, amusing diversion rather than one sought for a permanent relationship).

(14) To make into fluff; shake or puff out (feathers, hair etc) into a fluffy mass (often followed by up).

(15) To make a mistake.

(16) To become fluffy; move, float, or settle down like fluff.

(17) To embellish (often as “fluffed up”).

1780s: From the earlier (or perhaps contemporary) floow (woolly substance, down, nap, lint (which appeared also as flough, flue & flew)), possibly from the West Flemish vluwe (an imitative modification of floow), of uncertain origin but which may be from the French velu (hairy, furry), from the Latin villūtus (having shaggy hair), from villus (shaggy hair, tuft of hair) and may be compared with the Old English flōh (that which is flown off, fragment, piece), linked to the later “flaw”.  Although undocumented, etymologists generally conclude the word may have been a blend of flue +‎ puff.  “Fluffy stuff” is a common phenomenon in the natural world and descriptors existed in many European languages including the possibly onomatopoeic Middle Dutch vloe, the dialectal English floose, flooze & fleeze (particles of wool or cotton; fluff; loose threads or fibres), the Danish fnug (down, fluff) and the Swedish fnugg (speck, flake).  Traces of the sound of the word “fluff” are found in other languages including the Japanese フワフワ (fuwafuwa) (lightly, softly), the Hungarian puha (soft, fluffy), the Polish puchaty (soft, fluffy) and the Romanian puf (down; peachfuzz; soft hair of some animals; powderpuff).  Fluff & fluffing are nouns & verbs, fluffed is a verb, fluffiness & fluffer are nouns, fluffless & flufflike are adjectives, fluffy is an adjective (and non-standard) noun and fluffily is an adverb; the noun plural is fluffs.

Fluffied: Lindsay Lohan in bikini embellished with faux fur, photo-shoot for the fifth anniversary of ODDA magazine, April 2017.

In idiomatic use there’s “fluff around” of “fluff about” (ineffectually to act or waste time”, “fluff off” (an affectionate form of “fuck off”), “fluff-ball” or “ball of fluff” (a fluffy kitten or puppy with the quality of “cuteness”), “bum fluff” or “belly-button fluff” (small particles the fabric of clothing which accumulates in body crevices), “fluffhead” (someone vague or confused (synonymous with “airhead”), “fluff up” (a polite version of “fuck up”).  The term “fluffy bunny” isn’t from lagomorphology (the scientific study of rabbits (small mammals in the family Leporidae)) although it may be assumed the term is used in pet shops.  Fluffy bunny (also as “fluff bunny” & “fluffbunny”) was an adaptable noun used to mean: (1) a synonym of chubby bunny (a competitive eating game in which contestants had to pronounce words or phrases (such as “Irish wristwatch”) while holding increasing numbers of marshmallows is their mouth), (2) in the strange world of quantum mechanics, quantum entanglement, which in theory can occur but may or may not happen because of "other physics" and (3) a derogatory descriptor of a casual, naive practitioner of Wicca (or other neo-pagan religions), especially one deemed to have only a superficial understanding.  The slang “bit of fluff” (young woman with whom one is enjoying or planning a brief affair) was first recorded in 1903 while the use to describe the marshmallow confection seems to date from at least 1920, noted in Massachusetts.  The verb in the sense of “to shake into a soft mass” was in use by 1875 (directly from the noun) while the meaning “make a mistake” dates from 1884 as theatre slang referring to actors who had forgotten or weongly spoken (fluffed) their lines.  The adjective fluffy (containing or resembling fluff) came into use in the 1820s.

“Fluff jobs” were those deemed of dubious worth or existing only to fulfil some government-imposed mandate, one marker of which was said to be the length of the job title (eg deputy regional assistant coordinator of diversity and inclusion).  The concept was satirised by Douglas Adams (1952–2001) in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1979-1992), the profession of “telephone sanitizer” being a classic “Fluff job”.  The the joke was that having exiled the fluffy (telephone sanitizers, advertising account executives, management consultants and such) the ancient civilization of the planet Golgafrincham being driven to extinction by the spread of a lethal pathogen through the vector of uncleaned telephone handsets.  The exiled “fluffies” ended up on Planet Earth where they became the ancestors of modern humans, explaining the proliferation of “fluff jobs” now so obvious.  

A Bit of Fluff (1963) by Kimberly Kemp.

Kimberly Kemp was a pseudonym adopted by Gilbert Fox (1917-2004) for his “lesbian pulp novels”, dozens of which were published during the 1960s & 1970s.  His other lesbian fiction (in a slightly different) vein appeared under names including Dallas Mayo and Violet Loring while for his “heterosexual erotica” he used Peter Willow and Paul Russo.  Unfortunately, the cover-art for his titles is unattributed and the publishers may have used many graphic artists while maintaining the thematic consistency (which was something like “Mills & Boon undressed”).  Mr Fox led a varied and interesting life and A Bit of Fluff (1963) was illustrative of the lesbionic component of his oeuvre, other titles including: Intimate Nurse; A World All Their Own; The Houseguest; My Secret Lesbian Life, Vol I; My Secret Lesbian Life, Vol II; Lesbian Obsession; Perfume and Pain; Private party; Different; The Last Resort; Coming Out Party; Pleasant Company; Operation: Sex; A Cunning Among Lesbians; Play With Me; Illicit Interlude; Two Women; The houseguest; Love like a Shadow; A labor of love; Party Time; Secret Cravings; Draw the Blinds; Two of a Kind, Virgin Wanted; Perfumed/Pampered.

Middlemarch by George Eliot, first edition, 1871 (vol I) & 1872 (Vol II, III & IIII).  Appearing originally in eight paper-bound instalments (1871-1872), the hardback editions (in four volumes) were published in parallel, something not at the time the industry's universal practice.

Mr Fox opted to use a feminine pen-name for his lesbian erotica to lend a touch of authenticity, suggesting what would now be called “lived experience” rather than the rather formulaic approach to the topic taken by male authors who tended often to indulge their own fantasies; definitely he was interested in attracting a female readership and reverse-gender pseudonyms have a history, the most famous probably George Eliot (pen name of Mary Ann Evans (1819–1880)).  Ms Evans adopted a masculine pen-name not because it wasn’t possible for women novelists to find publishers but because “women’s fiction” was at the time regarded as a “fluffy, trivial amusements” while she wanted to focus on the more challenging themes men were exploring in the “realism” genre then fashionable in European literature.  It’s good she did because, although dated, works like Romola (1862–1863) and Middlemarch (1871–1872) are rewarding and even valuable source documents for social historians.

Catch 22 (1961) by Joseph Heller: Polymesmeric but not fluffy.

Literary editors use the phrase “brushing the dog” to describe the process of “removing the fluff” from a manuscript, hopefully leaving only nice, glossy text.  Literary historians sometimes compare originals with the edited versions that appeared in print and although there’s sometimes come regret for some of what was lost, generally the view seem to be that editors produce a better book.  Once who suggested an editor should have used a stiffer brush was the old curmudgeon Norman Mailer (1923–2007) who, writing of Joseph Heller’s (1923-1999) Catch-22 (1961), joked that a reader wouldn’t notice were “100 pages pulled from the middle”, adding “not even the author could be certain they were gone.”  The non-lineal structure of Catch 22 certainly demanded some mental gymnastics from readers (one publisher coined “polymesmeric” for the blurb) and, pace Norman Mailer but it might have been more accurate to suggest the chapter order could have been re-arranged without compromising the literary value.  Even if those same readers might find 100 pages to remove, not all would agree on which 100 pages.

Watergate Fluff

Watergate fluff is one of the alternative terms for the dish “Watergate Salad”, the others including Green Fluff, Green Goddess, Fluff Salad and Funeral Salad, the last picked up reputedly because it was so often served at wakes.  It’s not clear how the culinary delight came to be called “Watergate Salad” although there’s no doubt the use was triggered by some association the Watergate scandal of the early 1970s which revolved around attempts by the administration of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974) to “cover up” the involvement of operatives connected to the White House with the break-in in June 1972 of the Democratic National Committee (DNC) headquarters in Washington DC’s Watergate Building.  Interestingly, although the scandal (in the public perception, although the legal proceedings would last longer) ended in August 1974 when Nixon resigned, the first known use of the term “Watergate Salad” dates from 1975 although in September 1974, Maryland's Hagerstown Daily Mail had published the recipe for “Watergate Cake”, also a similarly green-tinted dessert made with pistachio pudding in the mix and sometimes the icing.

Fluffy dice (in period 1970s brown) in 1974 Ford Mustang II Ghia.  It is a truth universally acknowledged, that of the seven generations of Ford Mustang produced since 1964, it is a second generation (Watergate scandal era) Mustang II (1973-1978) in which it is most likely a pair of fluffy dice will be hanging from the rear-view mirror.  If they're seen dangling in a Boss 429 (1969-1970), that's irony.

The dish however predates the term.  Some claim the Kraft Foods Corporation deserves credit (apparently as a proud boast rather than an admission of guilt) as the creator because in 1975 they published a recipe called “Pistachio Pineapple Delight” as part of a promotional campaign to support the release that year of their “Pistachio Pudding Mix” (something with a long tradition, a whipped cream and pineapple concoction detailed in a Kansas newspaper in 1913, the year Richard Nixon was born).  At that point, history and myth become hard to untangle, one story saying the food editor of the Chicago Tribune named it to stimulate interest, suggesting it was the ideal snack to enjoy while watching the televised hearings of proceedings pursuant to the scandal while another claimed it was associative because the Watergate Hotel (in the by then infamous building) served the salad on their popular weekend buffets; no menus appear to have survived to prove or disprove that one.  Best suggestion was the name was chosen because the salad was “full of nuts” (like the crew involved in the scandal, including the memorable lawyer and Watergate burglary coordinator G Gordon Liddy (1930–2021) who wasn’t really “a nut” but often has been portrayed as one).  True or not, that’s the one which deserves to be accepted.

Aleita Dupree's Watergate Salad recipe

Ingredients

1 (3 ½ oz) box of instant pistachio pudding mix.
1 (20 oz) can of crushed pineapple with juice (most use sweetened).
1 (8 oz) container of cool whip, thawed.
1 heaped cup of miniature marshmallows.
½ cup of chopped pecan nuts.
Stemmed maraschino cherries for garnish (optional).

Instructions

(1) In glass serving bowl, mix crushed pineapple and juice with pistachio pudding mix.  Stir pudding until mix completely is dissolved and mixture is smooth.

(2) Fold in the thawed cool whip.  Gently fold until pudding and cool whip is completely blended.

(3) Add miniature marshmallows and pecans.  Cover and chill until salad is set (should take up to 30 minutes).

(4) To serve, garnish with stemmed cherries and extra chopped pecans (if desired).

Fluff in fashion

Fluffiness in fashion: Lindsay Lohan in Falling for Christmas (Netflix, 2022, left) and in New York to promote Irish Wish (Netflix, 2024, right).  The fluffy cream coat is by David Koma (Davit Komakhidze b 1985), a London-based, Georgian-born fashion designer (the label of his fashion house is stylized as DΛVID KOMΛ).  The crystal payette-embroidered layered cup bra hints at the profile of the customer base and did appear on sale at US$1250 (down from US$1750).  The fashion business is regarded by some as a bit “fluffy” (frocks and such) compared with “hard” industries (heavy engineering, nuclear weapons etc) but globally the annual turnover of the fashion industry is substantial.  The numbers bounce around a bit because it difficult to determine where “fashion” ends and “commodities” begin but estimates between US$1.5-2.5 trillion widely are quoted (In financial use, one trillion = 1,000,000,000,000 (one million million or 1,000 billion)).

IIII

IIII (pronounced fawr (U) or fohr (non-U))

A translingual form, an alternative form of IV: the Roman numeral representing four (4), the other known forms being iv, iiii & iiij

Circa 500 BC: The Roman numeral system spread as Roman conquest expanded and remained widely used in Europe until from circs 1300 it was replaced (for most purposes) with the more adaptable Hindu-Arabic system (including the revolutionary zero (0) which remains in use to this day.

IIII as a representation where the value four is involved has long been restricted to the value 4.  To avoid numbers becoming too cumbersome, the Roman system always used subtraction when a smaller numeral precedes a larger numeral so the number 14 would be represented as XIV instead of XIIII.  The convention which emerged was that a numeral can precede only another numeral which is less than or equal to ten times the value of the smaller so I can precede only (and thus be subtracted from) V (five) & X (ten).  However, these “rules” didn’t exist during Antiquity and weren’t (more or less) standardized until well into the medieval period; it’s thus not unusual to find old documents where 9 is represented as VIIII instead of IX.  The practical Romans, unlike the Greeks for whom abstraction was a calling, were little concerned with the concepts of pure mathematics, such as number theory or geometric proofs, and other abstract ideas, devoted instead to utilitarian purposes such as financial accounting, keeping military records and building things.

The numeral system had to be manageable to make simple calculations like addition and subtraction so it was attractive to make the text strings conveniently short: 44 as XLIV obvious preferable to XXXXIIII.  Although its limitations seem obvious to modern eyes, given the demands of the times, the system worked remarkably well for almost two millennia despite the largest numeral being M (1000).  It was silly to contemplate writing a string of 1000 M’s to indicate a million (presumably not a value then often used) so the Romans concocted a bar (the vinculum) which, when it appeared above a numeral, denoted a multiplier of 1000: MMMM (6000) could thus appear as V̄Ī and a million as M̄.  Compared with the Hindu-Arabic system, it was a fudged but one which for centuries proved serviceable.

Where Roman numbers are occasionally still used (book prefaces & introductions, some aeroplanes & automobiles and charmingly, some software), the number four is almost always represented by IV rather than IIII.  One exception to this however is watch & clock faces where the use of IIII outnumbers IV, regardless of the cost of the device.  Watchmakers have provided may explanations for the historical origin of this practice, the most popular of which dates from Antiquity: Because “I” stood for the “J” and “V” for the “U”, IV would be read as JU and thus Jupiter, an especially venerated Roman god, Jupiter Optimus Maximus being the king of all gods, chief of the pantheon and protector of ancient Rome.  The suggestion is that invoking the name of Jupiter for such a banal purpose would be thought offensive if not actually blasphemous.  Thus IIII it became.

Lindsay Lohan wearing 19mm (¾ inch) Cartier Tank Americaine in 18 karat white gold with a quartz movement and a silver guilloche dial with Roman numerals including the traditional IIII.  The Cartier part-number is B7018L1.

There’s the notion to that the convention arose just because of one of those haphazard moments in time by which history sometimes is made.  The appearance of IIII was said to be the personal preference of Louis XIV (1638–1715; le Roi Soleil (the Sun King), King of France 1643-1715), the Sun King apparently issuing an instruction (though there’s no evidence it was ever a formal decree) that IIII was the only appropriate way to write the number four, watchmakers ever since still tending to comply.  Whether Louis XIV wished to retain some exclusivity in the IV which was part of “his” XIV isn’t known and it may be he simply preferred the look of IIII.  Despite the belief of some, it’s anyway wrong to suggest IIII is wrong and IV right.  The design of the IIII was based upon four outstretched fingers which surely had for millennia been the manner in which the value of 4 was conveyed in conversation and V denoted 5 in tribute to the shape the hand formed when the thumb was added.  The IV notation came later and because it better conformed with the conventions used for writing bigger numbers, came in medieval times to be thought correct; it was thus adopted by the Church, becoming the “educated” form and that was that.

Not all agree with those romantic tales however, the German Watch Museum noting that in scholarly, ecclesiastical and daily use, IIII was widely used for a millennia, well into the nineteenth century, while the more efficient “IV” didn’t appear with any great frequency until circa 1500.  The museum argues that the watch and clock-makers concerns may have been readability and aesthetics rather than any devotion to historic practice, IIII having display advantages in an outward-facing arrangement relative to the centre of the dial (ie partially upside down, such as on wall, tower or cuckoo clocks), any confusion between IV (4) & VI (6) eliminated.  Also, a watch, while a functional timepiece, is also decorative and even a piece of jewellery so aesthetics matter, the use of III rendering the dial symmetrically balanced because 14 individual characters exist on each side of the dial and the IIII counterbalances the opposite VIII in the manner IX squares off against III.  So there’s no right or wrong about IIII & IV but there are reasons for the apparent anomaly of the more elegant IV appearing rarely on the dials of luxury watches.

Terpsichore

Terpsichore (pronounced turp-sik-uh-ree)

(1) In Classical Mythology, the goddess of dancing and choral song and one of the nine Muses who were daughters of Zeus (god of sky and thunder) & Mnemosyne (the goddess of memory).

(2) In choreography; the art of dancing (should always be lowercase).

(3) In astronomy (as 81 Terpsichore), a main belt asteroid.

Circa 1760: From the Classical Latin Terpsichorē from the Ancient Greek Τερψιχόρη (Terpsikhórē) (literally “enjoyment of dance”), noun use of the feminine of terpsíchoros (delighting in the dance), the construct being τέρψις (térpsis; térpein) (to delight; enjoyment) + χορός (khorós) (dance; chorus); it’s from terpsíchoros that English gained chorus.  The Greek was térpein was from the primitive Indo-European root terp- (to satisfy) source also of Sanskrit trpyati (takes one's fill) and the Lithuanian tarpstu & tarpti (to thrive, prosper).

The adjective terpsichorean (pertaining to dancing (literally “of Terpsichore”)) dates from 1869, and was from the Latinized form of the Greek noun terpsikhore (Muse of dancing and dramatic chorus).  From this came the theatrical slang terp (stage dancer, chorus girl) noted since 1937.  The adjectival form terpsichorean often appears with an initial capital letter because of its etymology from a proper noun.  Either is acceptable but the conventions of Modern English tend eventually to prevail which suggests use of the capital T will reduce with time but, given the rarity of the word except in a few technical and historical disciplines, the classic form is likely to endure among those few who enjoy its use.

In the mythology of Ancient Greece, nine goddesses ruled over art and literature.  The Greeks called them Muses and the Muse of dance and choral music was Terpsichore.  Of late she’s been of interest to astronomers who adopted her as a metaphor for the rhythm and ordered movement in the universe, such as mechanical oscillations.  In Archaic Greece, there were but three Muses, all associated with song and dance; it was only in the classical period they became nine and assigned to distinct spheres: Calliope of epic poetry, Clio of history, Euterpe of lyric poetry, Erato of love poetry, Melpomene of tragedy, Polyhymnia of hymns, Thalia of comedy, Urania of astronomy, and Terpsichore of dance and choral music.  The daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, they dwelt in the land of Pieria in the foothills of Mount Olympus.  In later mythology, writers tended to compare the Muses to the sirens but while both were young nymphs famous for their beautiful songs, the Muses sang to enrich men’s souls while the sirens were chthonic and sang to lure them to their deaths.

The Greek historian Herodotus (circa 484-425 BC) wrote his Ἱστορίαι (historíai̯; in the West styled variously as The History or The Histories of Herodotus)) as an account of the Greco-Persian Wars (499-449 BC).  Although there was once some doubt about the veracity as a historical document (reflecting more the scepticism about medieval editors and translators than the original texts), modern research has concluded the work is one of the most reliable histories from antiquity.  Herodotus was called “The Father of History” by the Roman orator Cicero (103-46 BC) because of the quality of his writing but he's also now acknowledged as the father of historiography's modern structural form.  Written histories had existed prior to Herodotus but he was the first to adopt a recognizably modern thematic form.  At some unknown time, one or more editors reorganized The History into nine chapters, each name after a Muse, one of which was Terpsichore:  Book I (Clio), Book II (Euterpe), Book III (Thalia), Book IIII (Melpomene), Book V (Terpsichore), Book VI (Erato), Book VII (Polymnia), Book VIII (Urania) & Book IX (Calliope).

The Muse Terpsichore In Ancient & Modern Greece.  Allegory of the Muse Terpsichore playing a harp, from the Florentine School of the eighteenth century, oil on canvas by an unknown artist (left) and Lindsay Lohan dancing The Lilo, Lohan Beach House, Mykonos, Greece, 2018 (right).

Despite the similarity, there’s no verified connection between khorós (dance; chorus) and χώρᾱς (khṓrās), inflection of χώρᾱ (khṓrā) (location, place, spot; the proper place; one's place in life; piece of land: tract, land, field; country (as opposed to a city or town), countryside; country, nation.  The origin of khôra is unknown and it may be from a Pre-Greek substrate or other regional language although speculative links have been suggested including χᾰ́ος (kháos) (empty space, abyss, chasm) and χατέω (khatéō) (to lack, miss, need, desire) but few etymologists have supported either and the lack of cognates beyond the Greek rendered research a dead end.  Khōra had been adopted as the ancient name for the land lying between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers north of Babylon (modern-day Iraq), from the Greek mesopotamia (khōra (literally "a country between two rivers)), from the feminine of mesopotamos, the construct being mesos (middle), from the primitive Indo-European root medhyo- (middle") + potamos (river).  That use borrowed directly from the discussions from Antiquity.

However, khôra did attract the interest of those scourges of late twentieth century linguistics: the French deconstructionists.  Their attention seems to have been excited by the concept of khôra in the sense of “the territory of the Ancient Greek polis which lay beyond the city proper”.  The philosophers of Antiquity, noting the idea of khôra simultaneously as (1) the physical space between city & the wilderness, (2) the time it takes to transverse the space and (3) one’s state of mind while in the space.  It was very much a concept of the indeterminate, a triton genos (third kind), being neither civilization nor the state of nature and city nor wilderness and few things so appealed to the deconstructionists as the indeterminate.

Of course, one attraction of deconstruction was that it was in itself a layer of indeterminacy and Jacques Derrida (1930-2004), post-modernism’s most famous explorer of khôra in the context of apophatism or negative theology, was interested not how the word had been understood in the traditions of metaphysics & metaphorics but what meaning could be constructed for something which is neither present or absent, passive or active.  The findings from khôra’s time on post-modernism’s autopsy table did illustrate why deconstruction gained a special role in language because there was surely no other way that Plato’s entirely cosmological concept could become psycho-linguistic and produce, in all seriousness, the idea of khôra as “container of the uncontainable”.  Plato (circa 425-circa 347 BC) had imagined khôra as that space through which something could pass but in which nothing could remain so thus to a French deconstructionist the very essence of tout autre (fully other) and from there it wasn’t very far to the idea of khôra also as time and space interacting.  At that point, in the tradition of post-modernism, khôra meant whatever the observer decided it meant.

The Terpsichore in Modern Greece: Lindsay Lohan dancing The Lilo, Lohan Beach House, Mykonos, Greece, 2018.