Houndstooth

Houndstooth (pronounced houns-tuth)

(1) A two-colour fabric pattern of broken checks (multi-color versions using the pattern do now exist and are also so-described).

(2) Fabric with a houndstooth pattern; an item of clothing made with such fabric.

(3) In botany, as Cynoglossum officinale (houndstongue, houndstooth, dog's tongue, gypsy flower (and “rats and mice” due to its smell), a herbaceous plant of the family Boraginaceae.

1936: A word, based on the appearance of the design, the pattern (in architecture, decorative art, fabric etc) is ancient but the descriptive term “houndstooth” has been in use only since 1936.  The shape is sometimes referred to as dogstooth (or dog's tooth) and in French it’s the more pleasing pied-de-poule (chicken feet), preferred also by the Italians.  In 1936 there must have been pedants who insisted it should have been “hound's tooth” because that does appear in some advertisements but in commercial use, houndstooth quickly was standardized.  The name was chosen a reference directly to a dog’s tooth, not the pattern of teeth marks left by its bite.  The construct was hounds + tooth.  Hound was from the Middle English hound, from the Old English hund, from the Proto-West Germanic hund, from the Proto-Germanic hundaz and was congnate with the West Frisian hûn, the Dutch hond, the Luxembourgish Hond, the German Hund, the German Low German Hund, the Danish hund, the Faroese hundur, the Icelandic hundur, the Norwegian Bokmål hund, the Norwegian Nynorsk hund and the Swedish hund, from the pre-Germanic ḱuntós (which may be compared with the Latvian sùnt-ene (big dog), an enlargement of the primitive Indo-European ḱwṓ (dog).  Elsewhere, the forms included the Old Irish cú (dog), the Tocharian B ku, the Lithuanian šuõ, the Armenian շուն (šun), and the Russian сука (suka)).  

In England, as late as the fourteenth century, “hound” remained the word in general use to describe most domestic canines while “dog” was used of a sub-type resembling the modern mastiff and bulldog.  By the sixteenth century, dog had displaced hound as the general word descriptor. The latter coming to be restricted to breeds used for hunting and in the same era, the word dog was adopted by several continental European languages as their word for mastiff.  Dog was from the Middle English dogge (source also of the Scots dug (dog)), from the Old English dogga & docga of uncertain origin.  Interestingly, the original sense appears to have been of a “common dog” (as opposed one well-bred), much as “cur” was later used and there’s evidence it was applied especially to stocky dogs of an unpleasing appearance.  Etymologists have pondered the origin:  It may have been a pet-form diminutive with the suffix -ga (the similar models being compare frocga (frog) & picga (pig), appended to a base dog-, or doc-(the origin and meaning of these unclear). Another possibility is Old English dox (dark, swarthy) (a la frocga from frog) while some have suggested a link to the Proto-West Germanic dugan (to be suitable), the origin of Old English dugan (to be good, worthy, useful), the English dow and the German taugen; the theory is based on the idea that it could have been a child’s epithet for dogs, used in the sense of “a good or helpful animal”.  Few support that and more are persuaded there may be some relationship with docce (stock, muscle), from the Proto-West Germanic dokkā (round mass, ball, muscle, doll), from which English gained dock (stumpy tail).  In fourteenth century England, hound (from the Old English hund) was the general word applied to all domestic canines while dog referred to some sub-types (typically those close in appearance to the modern mastiff and bulldog.  In German, the form endures as der Hund (the dog) & die Hunde (the dogs) and the houndstooth pattern is Hahnentritt.  Houndstooth is a noun; the noun plural is houndsteeth.  Strictly speaking, it may be that certain use of the plural (such as several houndstooth jackets) should be called “houndstooths” but this is an ugly word which should be avoided and no sources seem to list it as standard.  The same practice seems to have been adopted for handing the plural of cars called “Statesman”, “statesmen” seeming just an absurdity.

Although the classic black & white remains the industry staple, designer colors are now not uncommon.

In modern use in English, a “hound” seems to be thought of as a certain sort of dog, usually large, with a finely honed sense of smell and used (often in packs) for hunting and the sense development may also have been influenced by the novel The Hound of the Baskervilles (1901-1902) by the physician Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859–1930).  The best regarded of Conan Doyle’s four novels, it’s set in the gloomy fog of Dartmoor in England’s West Country and is the tale of the search for a “fearsome, diabolical hound of supernatural origin”.  The author's name is an example of how conventions of use influence things.  He's long been referred to as “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle” or “Conan Doyle” which would imply the surname “Conan Doyle” but his surname was “Doyle” and he was baptized with the Christian names “Arthur Ignatius Conan”, the “Conan” from his godfather.  Some academic and literary libraries do list him as “Doyle” but he's now referred to almost universally as “Conan Doyle” and the name “Arthur Doyle” would be as un-associated with him as “George Shaw” would with George Bernard Shaw (GBS; 1856-1950).  Conan Doyle's most famous creation was of course the detective Sherlock Holmes and he wore a houndstooth deerstalker cap.   Tooth (a hard, calcareous structure present in the mouth of many vertebrate animals, generally used for biting and chewing food) was from the Middle English tothe, toth & tooth, from the Old English tōþ (tooth), from the Proto-West Germanic tanþ, from the Proto-Germanic tanþs (tooth), from the primitive Indo-European h₃dónts (tooth) and related to tusk.

Lindsay Lohan in monochrome check jacket, Dorchester Hotel, London, June 2017 (left), Lindsay Lohan in L.A.M.B. Lambstooth Sweater, Los Angeles, April 2005 (centre) and racing driver Sir Lewis Hamilton (b 1985) in a Burberry Houndstooth ensemble, Annual FIA Prize Giving Ceremony, Baku, Azerbaijan, December 2023 (right).  The Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (the FIA; the International Automobile Federation) is world sport's dopiest regulatory body.  Although, at a distance, a wide range of fabrics look like houndstooth, some are really simple symmetrical, monochrome checks without the distinctive pattern and where designers have varied the shape, other descriptors (and L.A.M.B. couldn’t resist “lambstooth”) are used, something which helps also with product differentiation.  Sir Lewis though, sticks to the classics.  Regarded as the most fashion conscious of the Formula One drivers of his generation, it’s clear that assiduously he studies Lohanic fashion directions.

Designers consider houndstooth part of the plaid “family”, the jagged contours of the shape the point of differentiation from most which tend towards uniform, straight lines.  Although for the archaeological record its clear the concept of the design has an ancient lineage, what’s now thought of as the “classic” black & white houndstooth was defined in the mid-nineteenth century when it began to be produced at scale in the Scottish lowlands, in parallel with the plaid most associated with the culture, the tartan (although in some aspects the “history & cultural traditions” of tartan were a bit of a commercial construct).  Technically, a houndstooth is a two tone (the term monochrome often used in the industry to convey the idea of “black & white” (a la photography) rather than being etymologically accurate) plaid in four bands, two of each color (in both the weft & warp weave), woven with the simple 2:2 twill.  One of the charms of the design is that with slight variations in size and scale, different effects can be achieved and color mixes are now not uncommon although the classic black & white remains the standard.

Houndstooth has received the imprimatur of more than one Princess of Wales: Catherine, Princess of Wales (b 1982, left) and Diana, Princess of Wales (1961-1997, right) in a typically daring color mix.

The history in the Lowlands is murky but it seems certain the early fabrics were woven from wool which makes sense given the importance of sheep to the economy and the early garments were utilitarian, often cloak-like outer garments for those tending the flocks.  The early term was “shepherd’s check” which became first “dogstooth” and then “houndstooth”, canine teeth something with which shepherds would have been familiar because of the threat to their animals from the predations of wild dogs.  Fabric with smaller checks could be called “puppycheck”.  Interestingly, despite its striking appearance, the houndstooth pattern remained a generic and was never adopted as a family or clan symbol, a la the tartans.  It gained a new popularity in the 1930s when photographs began to appear of members of the British royal family and various gentry wearing houndstooth jackets while hunting or riding, thus the association with wealth and privilege which so appealed to the middle class who started wearing them too.  By the time designers began to put them on the catwalks, houndstooth’s future was assured.

1969 Holden Monaro GTS 350 (left), 1972 Holden Monaro GTS 308 (centre) and 1977 Chrysler Cordoba (right).

Despite the popular perception, not all the “personal luxury” Chryslers of the era and not even all the Cordobas (1975-1983) were finished in “Rich Corinthian Leather”; except for a one-off appearance in the 1975 Imperial Brochures, the Corinthian hides were exclusive to the Cordoba.  For passenger car interiors, houndstooth (rendered usually with a synthetic material) enjoyed a late mid-century spate of popularity, used for what were called generically “cloth inserts” and the use of houndstooth trended towards vehicles marketed as “sporty” whereas for luxury cars plusher fabrics like velour were preferred.  The cloth inserts were usually paired with vinyl although in some more expensive ranges they were used with leather.

Houndstooth (left), Pepita (Shepherd's Check) (centre) and Vichy Check (right).

For decades, it’s been common to refer to the optional upholstery offered by Porsche in the 1960s as “houndstooth” but according to Recaro Automotive Seating, the German concern which supplied the fabric, the correct name is “Pepita” (known also as “Shepherd’s Check”), a design built with interconnected squares.  What has happened is that “houndstooth” has for most purposes in colloquial English become a generic term, used to describe anything “houndstoothesque” and it’s an understandable trend given that not only would a close examination be required to determine which pattern appears on a fabric, unless one is well-acquainted with the differences in shape, most would be none the wiser.  Nor did Recaro use “Vichy Check” for the seats they trimmed for Porsche although that erroneous claim too is sometimes made.  Further confusing the history, when Stuttgarter Karosseriewerk Reutter (Porsche’s original supplier) started production of seats used in the Porsche 356 (1948-1965) a number of fabrics were offered including one in nylon in a similar black-and-white pattern which was neither Houndstooth nor Pepita.

1967 Porsche 911S, trimmed in Recaro Pepita.

The Reutter family founded Recaro in 1963 and in December that year the first Pepita pattern fabrics were made commercially available, used on the later Porsche 356Cs, the 911 (which briefly was called the 901) & the 912.  Porsche’s best known use of the pepita fabric was on the Recaro Sportsitz (Sport seat), first displayed at the 1965 Frankfurt Motor Show and they’re a prized part of the early 911S models, the first of which were delivered in the northern summer of 1966.  At that point, the Pepita fabric became a factory option for the 911 and the last use was in the Recaro Idealsitz (Ideal seat), offered only in 1970–71 in black & white, red & beige, brown & beige and blue & green.  In a nostalgic nod, Porsche returned Pepita seats to the option list for the 911 legacy model, released in 2013 to mark the car’s 50^th anniversary although Recaro was not involved in the production.

1969 Porsche 912.  The Pepita key-fob, sun visors and dashboard trim will appeal to some.

The factory at the time didn't apply the Pepita fabric quite so liberally but the originality police seem more indulgent towards departures from specification in 912s, especially if done in a way the factory might have done it; if seen on a 911, automatically, they deduct points.  The Porsche 912 (1965-1969 & (as 912E) 1976) was essentially a four-cylinder version of the 911 with less standard equipment and the early models used a version of the air-cooled flat-four from the superseded 356 (1948-1965).  It was highly successful (initially out-selling the much more expensive, six-cylinder, 911) and production ceased only because the factory’s capacity was needed for the new 914 (1969-1976) which, being mid-engined, Porsche believed was a harbinger for its future sports cars, there being little belief the rear-engine configuration would endure into the 1980s.  However, the customer always being right, things didn’t work out that way and, still in high demand, the rear-engined 911 has already entered the second quarter of the twenty-first century.  The 912E was a single-season “stop-gap model” for the US market to provide an entry-level Porsche between the end of 914 production and the introduction of the front-engined 924 (1976-1988).  Like the four-cylinder 914s and the early 924s, the 912E used a Volkswagen engine, Porsches old 356 unit having never been made compliant with emission control regulations.  Long something of an orphan, the 912 now has a following and while there are faithful restorations, modifications are not uncommon, many with interior appointment upgraded to include those used on the more expensive 911s.

Reception Chairs with Porsche Pepita-style fabric by 1600 Veloce.

While not all Porsche owners “have everything” some presumably do so buying them a present can be a challenge.  However, there exists in the collector car business a minor collateral trade in thematically attuned peripheral pieces including models of stuff which can be larger than the original (hood ornaments, badges and such) or smaller (whole cars, go-karts etc).  Parts can also be repurposed, the best known of which are internally-damaged engines re-imagined as coffee-tables (almost always with glass tops) but there are also chairs and occasional tables.  Ideal for a collector, Porsche dealership or restoration house, specialists will trim chairs and occasional tables in the distinctive Pepita fabric, which, being black & white, might even get a tick of approval from interior decorators, a notoriously judgmental lot.  Some even offer rugs in the style but fibre floor-coverings even partly white can be tiresome to own.  For those who want a later motif, furniture has been made using the even more distinctive “Porsche Pasha” which, being jarringly asymmetric, needs the eye of an expert upholsterer for things to line-up in a pleasing way.

Matching numbers, matching houndstooth: 1970 Holden HG GTS 350 Monaro in Indy Orange with black detailing (paint combo code 567-122040) and houndstooth cloth seat inserts in Indy Orange & black (trim code 1199-10Z).  This car (VIN: 81837GJ255169; Model: HG81837; Chassis: HG16214M) is one of the most prized Monaros because the specification includes a 350 cubic inch (5.7 litre) small block Chevrolet V8 (L48) with the “McKinnon block”, paired with the four-speed manual Saginaw (variously the 2.54:1 M21 or 2.85:1 M22) gearbox.  Holden built 405 HG GTS 350s, 264 as manuals and 141 with the two-speed Powerglide automatic transmission.  “McKinnon” is a reference to the General Motors (GM) McKinnon Industries plant in St. Catharine's, Ontario where the blocks were cast; many of the the “American” cars exported to the UK, Australia, New Zealand and elsewhere in the Commonwealth often came from Canada because of the lower tariff rates, a legacy of the old "Commonwealth Preference scheme", the last relic of the chimera of "Imperial Free Trade".  Despite the UK in 1973 joining the EEC (European Economic Community, the institution which ultimately became the EU (European Union), Detroit's Australian outposts would until 1976 retain a small export flow of cars to the UK, their relatively large size and V8 engines inhabiting a small but lucrative niche.

Very 1970s: GM's Indy Orange houndstooth fabric; in the US it was also offered in the Chevrolet Camaro.  What was it about brown & orange in the 1970s?

Introduced in 1968, the Holden Monaro was the car which triggered Australia’s brief flirtation with big (in local terms, the cars were “compact” size in US nomenclature) coupés, a fad which would fade away by the mid 1970s.  It had been Ford which had first tested the market with a Falcon two-door hardtop (XM, 1964-1965 & XP, 1965-1966) but when the restyled model was released, it was again based on the US Falcon and the range no longer included a two-door hardtop, the wildly successful Mustang having rendered it unnecessary.  There was in the US still a two-door Falcon sedan but it was thought to have limited appeal in Australia so was never offered meaning Ford didn’t have a model comparable with the Monaro until the XA Falcon Hardtop made its debut late in 1972 although by then the brief moment had passed.  While the Falcon Hardtop proved successful as a race-car, sales never met expectations, compelling the factory to produce a number of promotional "special models", usually unchanged in mechanical specification but with distinctive paint schemes and "bundled options", the latter at a notional discount.

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.  

Pasha

Pasha (pronounced pah-shuh, pash-uh, puh-shah or pur-shaw)

(1) In historic use, a high rank in the Ottoman political and military system, granted usually to provincial governor or other high officials and later most associated with the modern Egyptian kingdom; it should be placed after a name when used as a title, a convention often not followed in the English-speaking world.

(2) A transliteration of the Russian or Ukrainian male given name diminutive Па́ша (Páša).

(3) A surname variously of Islamic and Anglo-French origin (ultimately from the Latin).

(4) In casual use, anyone in authority (used also pejoratively against those asserting authority without any basis); the use seems to have begun in India under the Raj.

(5) As the “two-tailed pasha” (Charaxes jasius), a butterfly in the family Nymphalidae.

1640–1650: From the Turkish pasa (also as basha), from bash (head, chief), (there being in Turkish no clear distinction between “b” & “p”), from the Old Persian pati- (maste), built from the primitive Indo-European root poti- (powerful; lord) + the root of shah (and thus related to czar, tzar, csar, king & kaisar).  The related English bashaw (as an Englishing of pasha) existed as early as the 1530s.  Pasha’s use as an Islamic surname is most prevalent on Indian subcontinent but exists also in other places, most often those nations once part of the old Ottoman Empire (circa 1300-1922) ) including Albania, Republic of Türkiye and the Slavic region.  As a surname of English origin, Pasha was a variant of Pasher, an Anglicized form from the French Perchard, a suffixed form of Old French perche (pole), from the Latin pertica (pole, long staff, measuring rod, unit of measure), from the Proto-Italic perth & pertikā (related also to the Oscan perek (pole) and possibly the Umbrian perkaf (rod).  The ultimate source of the Latin form is uncertain.  It may be connected with the primitive Indo-European pert- (pole, sprout), the Ancient Greek πτόρθος (ptórthos) (sprout), the Sanskrit कपृथ् (kapṛth) (penis) although more than one etymologist has dismissed any notion of extra-Italic links.  Pasha, pashaship & pashadom are nouns and pashalike is an adjective; the noun plural is pashas.  The adjectives pashaish & pashaesque are non-standard but tempting.

Fakhri Pasha (Ömer Fahrettin Türkkan (1868–1948), Defender of Medina, 1916-1919).

In The Struggle for Survival, 1940–1965 (1966) (extracts from the diary of Lord Moran (Charles Wilson, 1882-1977, personal physician to Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955)), there’s an entry in which, speaking of her husband, Clementine Churchill (1885–1977) told the doctor: “Winston is a Pasha.  If he cannot clap his hands for servant he calls for Walter as he enters the house.  If it were left to him, he'd have the nurses for the rest of his life ... He is never so happy, Charles, as he is when one of the nurses is doing something for him, while Walter puts on his socks.”  In his busy youth, Churchill has served as a subaltern in the British Army’s 4th Queen's Own Hussars, spending some two years in India under the Raj; he would have been a natural pasha.

Debut of 928 & the pasha: Ferdinand "Ferry" Porsche (1909–1998) with the Porsche 928 displayed at the Geneva Auto Salon, 17 March, 1977.

The car (pre-production chassis 928 810 0030) was finished in the Guards Red which in the next decade would become so emblematic of the brand and this was not only the first time the pasha trim was seen in public but also the first appearance of the “phone-dial” wheels.  Although the factory seems never to have published a breakdown of the production statistics, impressionistically, the pasha appeared more often in the modernist 924 & 928 than the 911 with its ancestry dating from the first Porsches designed in the 1940s. 

The “Pasha” flannel fabric was until 1984 available as an interior trim option for the 911 (1964-1989), 924 (1976-1988) & 928 (1977-1995) in four color combinations: black & white, black & blue, blue & beige and brown & beige.  Although not unknown in architecture, the brown & beige combination is unusual in fashion and it's doubtful the kit once donned by New Zealand’s ODI (one day international) cricket teams was influenced by the seats of pasha-trimmed Porsches; if so, that was one of the few supporting gestures.

1979 Porsche 930 with black & white pasha inserts over leather (to sample) (left) and 1980 Porsche 928S with brown & beige pasha inserts over brown leather.

It was known informally also as the Schachbrett (checkerboard) but it differed from the classic interpretation of that style because the objects with which the pattern was built were irregular in size, shape and placement.  Technically, although not usually listed as a velvet or velour, the pasha used a similar method of construction in that it was a “pile fabric”, made by weaving together two thicknesses of fine cord and then cutting them apart to create a soft, plush surface, rendering a smooth finish, the signature sheen generated by the fibres reflect light.  It was during its run on the option list rarely ordered and in the Porsche communities (there are many factions) it seems still a polarizing product but while “hate it” crowd deplore the look, to the “love it” crowd it has a retro charm and is thought in the tradition of Pepita (or shepherd’s check), Porsche’s unique take on houndstooth.

Reproduction Porsche pasha fabric available from the Sierra Madre Collection.

There are tales about how Porsche’s pasha gained the name including the opulent and visually striking appearance evoking something of the luxury and flamboyance associated the best-known of the Ottoman-era pashas, much publicized in the West for their extravagant ways.  There seems no basis for this and anyway, to now confess such an origin would see Porsche damned for cultural appropriation and at least covert racism.  It may not be a “cancellation” offence but is trouble best avoided.  Also discounted is any link with lepidopterology for although the “two-tailed pasha” (Charaxes jasius, a butterfly in the family Nymphalidae) is colourful, the patterns on the wings are not in a checkerboard.  Most fanciful is that during the 1970s (dubbed to this day “the decade style forgot” although that does seem unfair to the 1980s), in the Porsche design office was one chap who was a “sharp dresser” and one day he arrived looking especially swish, his ensemble highlighted by a check patterned Op Art (optical art, an artistic style with the intent of imparting the impression of movement, hidden images, flashing & vibrating patterns or swelling & warping) scarf.  The look came to the attention of those responsible for the interiors for the upcoming 928 and the rest is history... or perhaps not.  More convincing is the suggestion it was an allusion to the company’s success in motorsport, a chequered (checkered) flag waved as the cars in motorsport cross the finish-line, signifying victory in an event.  What the pasha’s bold, irregular checkerboard did was, in the Bauhaus twist, create the optical illusion of movement.

Publicity shot for Porsche 911 Spirit 70, released as a 2026 model.

When on the option list, the Pasha fabric was never a big seller but, being so distinctive, memories of it have never faded and it transcended its lack of popularity to become what is now known as “iconic”.  Originally, the use of “iconic” was limited to the small objects of religious significance (most associated with the imagery in Eastern Orthodox Christianity where the concept didn’t always find favour, the original iconoclasts being literally those destroyed icons) and later co-opted for analogous (often secular) use in art history.  It was in the 1960s, perhaps influenced by the depictions in pop-art (many of which were icon-like) of pop culture figures such as Marilyn Monroe (1926–1962) that there meaning shifted to apply to those highly influential, recognizable, or emblematic in some aspect of what was being discussed, be that a look, brand, cultural phenomenon or whatever.  In that sense, Porsche over the years has been associated with a few “iconic” objects including certain wheels, rear spoilers and entire vehicles such as the 911 or 917.  Even before the internet reached critical mass and accelerated the trend, the word was in the 1980s & 1990s a common form but in the twenty-first century such was the overuse the value was diminished and its now not uncommon for it to have to be used with modifiers (genuinely iconic, truly iconic etc).  So, the path has been from sacred to symbolic to cultural to viral to clichéd, and by the 2020s, were something to be described as “totally iconic”, there was a fair chance it would within a week be forgotten.

2026 Porsche 911 Spirit 70.  The Pasha fabric is standard on the door panels and seat cushions but optional for the seat squabs and dashboard (left).  The Pascha-Teppich (Pasha mat) in the frunk is included (right).

Porsche however seems assured the Pasha fabric is part of the company’s iconography and in April 2025 announced the look would be reprised for the 911’s latest Heritage Edition model.  Dubbed the 911 Spirit 70, the name is an allusion to the “company’s design philosophy of the seventies” and that may be something worth recalling for during that “difficult decade”, not only did some of Porsche’s most memorable models emerge but most than most manufacturers of the time, they handled the troubles with some aplomb.  Production of the Spirit 70 will be limited to 1,500 units, all in Olive Neo (a bespoke and (in the right light) untypically vibrant olive) with retro-inspired livery and trimmed in the revived Pasha fabric upholstery (although use on the seat squabs and dashboard is optional).  Mechanically, the car is based on the Carrera GTS Cabriolet, availability of which has spanned a few of the 911’s generations and for those who don’t like the graphics, they’re a delete option.

Lindsay Lohan (during “brunette phase”) in bandage dress in black & white pasha, rendered as an adumbrated pen & ink sketch in monochrome.

Although made with "pasha" fabric, this is not a “pasha-style” dress.  Some purists deny there’s such a thing and what people use the term to describe is correctly an “Empire” or “A-Line” dress, the industry has adopted “pasha” because it’s a romantic evocation of the style of garment often depicted being worn by notables in the Ottoman Empire.  The (Western) art of the era fuelled the popular imagination and it persists to this day, something which was part of the critique of Palestinian-American academic Edward Said (1935–2003) in Orientalism (1978), an influential work which two decades on from his death, remains controversial.  As used commercially, a pasha dress can be any longer style characterized by a flowing silhouette, sometimes with a wrap or corset detailing and so vague is the term elements like ruffles or pagoda sleeves can appear; essentially, just about any dress “swishy” enough to “waft around” dress can plausibly be called a pasha.  Since the symbiotic phenomena of fast-fashion and on-line retailing achieved critical mass, the number of descriptions of garment styles probably has increased because although it's difficult to create (at least for saleable mass-produced products) looks which genuinely are "new", what they're called remains linguistically fertile. 

For the Porsche owner who has everything, maXimum offers “Heel Trend Porche Pasha Socks”, the "Porche" (sic) a deliberate misspelling as a work-around for C&Ds (cease & desist letters) from Stuttgart, a manoeuvre taken also by legendary accumulator of damaged Porsches (and much else), German former butcher Rudi Klein (1936-2001) whose Los Angeles “junkyard” realized millions when the contents were auctioned in 2024.  His “Porsche Foreign Auto” business had operated for some time before he received a C&D from German lawyers, the result being the name change in 1967 to Porche Foreign Auto.  It’s a perhaps unfair stereotype Porsche owners really do already have everything but the socks may be a nice novelty for them.

Chairs, rug & occasional tables in black & white pasha.

A minor collateral trade in the collector car business is that of thematically attuned peripheral pieces.  These include models of stuff which can be larger than the original (hood ornaments, badges and such), smaller (whole cars, go-karts etc) or repurposed (the best known of which are the engines re-imagined as coffee-tables (almost always with glass tops) but there are also chairs.  Ideal for a collector, Porsche dealership or restoration house, one ensemble consisting of two chrome-plated steel framed chairs, a circular rug and brace of occasional tables was offered at auction.  The “Porsche Pasha” chosen was the black & white combo, something which probably would be approved by most interior decorators; with Ferraris there may be “resale red” but with furniture there’s definitely “resale black & white”.