Palindrome

Palindrome (pronounced pal-in-drohm)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Announced on an auspicious date.

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

Palindromic sentences are often created and these are judged not by length but by their elegance which is why “never odd or even” often is cited as an example.  Leigh Mercer (1893–1977) was a word nerd and recreational mathematician who devised the classic "A man, a plan, a canal: Panama!" and this approach was in the 1980s taken to its logical extreme in two novels, Satire: Veritas (1980, 58,795 letters) by David Stephens and Dr Awkward & Olson in Oslo (1986, 31,954 words) by Lawrence Levine, both said to be palindromically perfect and wholly nonsensical.  Shorter, but of admirable clarity, are the many baptismal fonts in Greece and Turkey which bear the circular 25-letter inscription NIYON ANOMHMATA MH MONAN OYIN (Wash (my) sins, not only (my) face).  This appears also in several English churches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

ROTAS
OPERA
TENET
AREPO
SATOR

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

SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS

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

Gorp

Gorp (pronounced gawrp)

(1) Greedily to eat (obsolete).

(2) A mixture of nuts, raisins, dried fruits seeds and such, often packed as a high-energy snack by hikers, climbers and others undertaking strenuous outdoor activities.

(3) By extension, in the slang of late 1950s US automobile stylists (and subsequently their critics), the notion of adding many design elements to a car, even if discordant.

(4) In fashion criticism, an adoption of the automotive use, used to describe an excessive use of decorative items, especially if loosely fitted and inclined to “stray”.

Early 1900s: Of uncertain origin (in the sense of “greedily to eat”) but assumed by most etymologists to be a merging of gorge & gulp, the construct being gor(p) + (gul)p.  The mid-fourteenth century verb gorge (to eat with a display of greediness, or in large quantities) was from the Middle English gorgen (greedily to eat) and was from the Old French gorger & gorgier (which endures in modern French as gorger (greedily to eat; to gorge)), from gorge (throat).  The Middle English noun gorge (esophagus, gullet; throat; bird's crop; food in a hawk's crop; food or drink that has been take consumed) came directly from the Old French gorge (throat) (which endures in modern French as gorge (throat; breast)), from the Vulgar Latin gorga & gurga, from the Classical Latin gurges (eddy, whirlpool; gulf; sea), of uncertain origin but perhaps linked with the primitive Indo-European gwerhs- (to devour, swallow; to eat).  The English word was cognate with the Galician gorxa (throat), the Italian gorga & gorgia (gorge, throat (ravine long obsolete)), the Occitan gorga & gorja, the Portuguese gorja (gullet, throat; gorge) and the Spanish gorja (gullet, throat; gorge).  The duality of meaning in French meant the brassiere (bra) came to be called “un soutien-gorge (with derived forms such as “soutien-gorge de sport” (sports bra) with “soutif” the common colloquial abbreviation; the literal translation was thus “throat supporter” but it’s better understood as “chest uplifter”.

Lindsay Lohan gulping down a Pure Leaf iced tea; promotional image from the brand's “Time for a Tea Break” campaign.

The mid-fifteenth century noun gulp (eagerly (and often noisily) to swallow; swallow in large draughts; take down in a single swallow) was from the Middle English gulpen and probably from the West Flemish or Middle Dutch gulpen &, golpen, of uncertain origin.  Although not exactly onomatopoeic, the word may have been of imitative origin, or even an extension of meaning of the Dutch galpen (to roar, squeal) or the English galp & gaup (to gape).  It was related to the German Low German gulpen (to gush out, belch, gulp), the West Frisian gjalpe, gjalpje & gjealpje (to gush, spurt forth), the Danish gulpe & gylpe (to gulp up, disgorge), the dialectal Swedish glapa (to gulp down) and the Old English galpettan (to gulp down, eat greedily, devour).  The derived senses (to react nervously by swallowing; the sound of swallowing indicating apprehension or fear) may have been in use as early as the sixteenth century.  Gorp is a noun; the noun plural is gorps.  In fashion (technically perhaps “anti-fashion appropriated by fashion”) “gorpcore” describes the use as streetwear of outerwear either designed for outdoor recreation (in the sense of hiking, wilderness tracking etc) or affecting that style.  Exemplified by the ongoing popularity of the puffer jacket, gorpcore is something much associated with the COVID-19 pandemic but the look had by the time of the outbreak already been on-trend for more than a year.  The name comes from the stereotypical association of trail mix (gorp) with such outdoor activities.  The verbs gorping and gorped (often as “gorped-up”) were informal and used among stylists and critics when discussing some of Detroit’s excessively ornamented cars of the late 1950s & early 1960s.  Acronym Finder lists eleven GORPs including the two for trail-mix which seem peacefully to co-exist:

GORP: Great Outdoor Recreation Pages (a website).
GORP: Good Old Raisins and Peanuts (trail mix).
GORP: Granola, Oats, Raisins, and Peanuts (trail mix).
GORP: Garry Ork Restoration Project (An ecosystem restoration project in Saanich, Canada, designed to save the endangered Garry Oak trees, British Columbia’s only native oak species.
GORP: Georgia Outdoor Recreational Pass (Georgia Wildlife Resources Division).
GORP: Graduate Orthodontic Residents Program (University of Michigan; Ann Arbor).
GORP: Grinnell Outdoor Recreation Program (Grinnell College, Iowa)
GORP: Good Organic Retailing Practices.
GORP: Get Odometer Readings at the Pump.
GORP: Gordon Outdoor Recreation Project (Gordon College, Wenham, Massachusetts).
GORP: Growing Outdoor Recreation Professionals (University of California, Berkeley).

Lexicographers acknowledge the uncertainty of origin in the use of “gorp” to describe the mix of nuts, raisins, seeds and such in the packaged, high-energy snack now often known by the description most common in US commerce: “Trail mix”.  So common and conveniently packaged are the ingredients of gorp that doubtlessly variations of the combination have been carried by travellers since the origins of human movement over distance but the first known references to the concept to appear in print were seen in the “outdoors” themed magazines of the early twentieth century.  Deconstructed however, the notion of “high-energy, long-life, low volume” rations were for centuries a standard part of a soldier’s rations with different mixes used by land-based or naval forces, something dictated by availability and predicted rates of spoilage; as early as the seventeenth century, recommended combinations appeared in military manuals and quartermaster’s lists.  Not until the mid-1950s however is there any record of the stuff being described as “gorp” although the oft quoted formations: “Good Old Raisins and Peanuts” & “Granola, Oats, Raisins, and Peanuts” may both be backronyms.

Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, either left or right) and Erin Mackey (b 1986, either left or right), hiking scene in The Parent Trap (1998).  They would have packed some trail mix in their back-packs.

In various places around the planet, similar concoctions (the composition influenced by regional tastes and product availability) were described by different names including the antipodean scroggin or schmogle (the latter apparently restricted to New Zealand) and beyond the English-speaking world, there’s been a myriad of variants among those in schools or universities including “student mix”, “study mix”, “student fodder” & “student oats”.  That variety has faded as US linguistic imperialism has exerted its pull and even before the internet attained critical mass, the product name familiar in US supermarkets and grocery stores had begun to prevail: “Trail mix”.

Packaged gorp and trail mix.  Historically, gorp bars lived up to their name, a typical ingredients list including "peanuts, corn syrup, rasins, salt & lecithin" so commercially available gorp often was "the truth if not the whole truth".  Oddly, even when manufactured in disk-shapes, the product still tended to be described as a "bar".  With the contents of trail mix, there's been a bit of "mission creep" and the packaged product can now include chunks of chocolate and other stuff not envisaged in years gone by.

1958 Buick Special Convertible (left) and 1958 Buick Limited Convertible (right).If asked to nominate one from the list of usual suspects, many might pick Cadillac as the most accomplished purveyor of gorp but historians of the breed usually list the 1958 Buicks as "peak gorp" and for the sheer number and variety of decorative bits and pieces, it probably is unsurpassed.  Unfortunately for the division, a combination of circumstances meant between 1956 & 1958, Buick sales more than halved and while "excessive" gorp wasn't wholly to blame, after GM (General Motors) re-organized things, gorp never made a comeback quite as lavish.       

In automotive styling “gorp” is not synonymous with “bling” although there can be some physical overlap.  The word “bling” long ago enjoyed the now obsolete meaning “a want of resemblance” but in modern use it means (1) expensive and flashy jewelry, clothing, or other possessions, (2) the flaunting of material wealth and the associated lifestyle or (3) flashy; ostentatious.  It seems in these senses first to have been recorded in 1997 and is thought to be from the Jamaican English slang bling-bling, a sound suggested by the quality of light reflected by diamonds.  In the Caribbean, bling-bling came to be used to refer to flashy items (originally jewelry but later of any display of wealth) and the term was picked up in the US in African-American culture where it came to be associated with rap & hip-hop (forks of that community’s pop music) creators and their audiences.  There were suggestion the word bling was purely onomatopoeic (a vague approximation of pieces of jewelry clinking together) but most etymologists list it as one of the rare cases of a silent onomatopoeia: a word imitative of the imaginary sound many people “hear” at the moment light reflects off a sparkling diamond.  The long obsolete meaning “a want of resemblance” came from earlier changes in pronunciation when dissem′blance became pronounced variously as dissem′bler and dissem′ bling with bling becoming the slang form.  There is no relationship with the much older German verb blinken (to gleam, sparkle).

1958 Continental Mark III by Lincoln.

Some critics of design insist "gorp" (like "bling") really applies only to stuff "added on" (ie glued, screwed, bolted etc) but some claim there's no better word when discussing the cars which were a "mash-up" of disparate elements and there's no better example than the Ford Motor Company's (FoMoCo) 1958 Continental which was actually a "Lincoln with more stuff" but named simply "Continental" in the hope it would fool people into thinking it was an exclusive line following the genuinely unique Continental Mark II (1956-1957).  The Continental division had however been shuttered as another victim of the recession and the propaganda proved unequal to reality.  The Mark III's huge body (a remarkable technical achievement because even the convertibles were unit-bodies with no separate chassis) lingered for three dismally unsuccessful seasons and remains as the period's most confused agglomeration of motifs, a reasonable achievement given some of the weird creations Chrysler would release.  Although the sheer size does somewhat disguise the clutter, as one's eye wanders along the length, one finds slants and different angles, severe straight-lines, curves soft and sudden, scallops, fins and strakes.  On McMansions, it's not uncommon to find that many architectural traditions in on big suburban house but it's a rare count in one car.  Despite the diversity, it's not exactly "post-modernism in metal" so even if a re-purposing, "gorp" seems to fit.

In the English-speaking world, bling & bling-bling began to appear in dictionaries early in the twenty-first century.  Many languages picked up bling & bling-bling unaltered but among the few localizations were the Finnish killuttimet and the Korean beullingbeulling (블링블링) and there was also the German blinken (to blink, flashing on & off), a reference to the gleam and sparkle of jewels and precious metals.  Blinken was from the Low German and Middle Low German blinken, from the root of blecken (to bare) and existed also in Dutch.  As viral-words sometimes do, bling begat some potentially useful (and encouraged) derivations including blingesque, blingtastic, blingbastic blingiest, blingest, a-bling & blingistic; all are non-standard forms and patterns of use determine whether such pop-culture constructs endure.  Bling & blinger are nouns, blinged, blingish, blingy & blingless are adjectives, bling-out, blinged-out & bling-up are verbs; the noun plural is blingers (bling and bling-bling being both singular & plural).

Gingerbread: 1974 Imperial LeBaron four-door hardtop (left) in chestnut tufted leather though not actually “fine Corinthian leather” which was (mostly) exclusive to the Cordoba (1975-1983) until late 1975 when not only did the Imperial's brochures mention "genuine Corinthian leather (available at extra cost)" but for the first time since 1954 the range was referred to as the "Chrysler Imperial", a harbinger the brand was about to be retired.  Imperial's advertising copy noted of the brochure photograph above: “...while the passenger restraint system with starter interlock is not shown, it is standard on all Imperials.”; the marketing types didn't like seat-belts messing up their photos.  While all of the big three (GM, Ford & Chrysler) had tufted interiors in some lines, it was Chrysler which displayed the most commitment to the gingerbread motif.  After 1958, exterior gorp, while it didn't every entirely go away, it did go into decline but in the mid 1960s, as increasingly elaborate and luxurious interiors began to appear in the higher-priced models of even traditionally mass-market marques, those who disapproved of this latest incarnation of excess needed a word which was both descriptive and dismissive.  The use "gorp" might have been misleading and according to the authoritative Curbside Classic (which called the trend the start of "the great brougham era"), the word of choice was "gingerbread" and truly that was bling's antecedent.

In the stylists’ (they weren’t yet “designers”) studios in the 1950s, what would come to be called “bling” certainly existed (and in the “age of chrome” was very shiny) but the idea of gorp was different in that it was quantitative and qualitative, the notion of adding to a design multiple decorative elements or motifs, even if this meant things clashed (which sometimes they did).  Why this happened has been debated but most historians of the industry have concluded it was the result of the unexpected, post-war boom which delivered to working and middle-class Americans a prosperity and wealth of consumer goods the like of which no mass-society had ever known.  In material terms, “ordinary” Americans (ie wage and salary earners), other than in measures like the provision of servants or hours of leisure, were enjoying luxuries, conveniences and an abundance unknown even to royalty but a few generations earlier.  Accordingly, noting the advice that the way to “avoid gluts was to create a nation of gluttons” (a concept used also in many critiques of rampant consumerism), the US car industry, awash with cash and seeing nothing in the future but endless demand, resolved never to do in moderation what could be done in excess and as well as making their cars bigger and heavier, began to use increasing rococo styling techniques; wherever there appeared an unadorned surface, the temptation was to add something and much of what was added came casually to be called “gorp”, based on the idea that, like the handy snack, the bits & pieces bolted or glued on were a diverse collection and, in the minds of customers, instantly gratifying.  Gorp could include chrome strips, fake external spare tyre housings, decorative fender and hood (bonnet) accessories which could look like missiles, birds of prey in flight or gunsights, the famous dagmars, fake timber panels, moldings which recalled the shape of jet-engine nacelles, taillights which resembled the exhaust gasses from the rockets of spacecraft (which then existed mostly in the imagination) and more.

A young lady wearing gorpcore, Singapore, 2022.  Along with Kuwait, Hong Kong, Monaco and Vatican City, Singapore is listed by demographers as "100% urbanized" but it's good always to be prepared.

Had any one of these items been appended as a feature it might well have become a focus or even an admired talking point but that wasn’t the stylistic zeitgeist and in the studios they may have been reading the works of the poet Matthew Arnold (1822-1888) who attributed to Benjamin Disraeli (1804–1881; UK prime- minister 1868 & 1874-1880) a technique he claimed the prime-minister adopted during his audiences with Victoria (1819–1901; Queen of the UK 1837-1901): “Everyone likes flattery and when you come to royalty, you should lay it on with a trowel”.  Detroit in the late 1950s, certainly laid on the gorp with a trowel and the men and women (there was in the era the odd woman employed in the studios, dealing typically with interiors or color schemes) were students also of the pamphlet Ending the Depression Through Planned Obsolescence, published in 1932 by US real estate broker (and confessed Freemason) Bernard London (b circa 1873 but his life is something of a mystery) and in the post-war years came the chance to put the theory to the test.  This meant not only was there much gorp but each year there had to be “different” gorp so the churn rate was high. Planned obsolescence began as a casual description of the techniques used in advertising to stimulate demand and thus without the negative connotations which would attach when it became part of the critique of materialism, consumerism and the consequential environmental destruction.  Like few before or since, the US car industry quickly perfected planned obsolescence and not content with “annual model changes” sometimes added “mid-season releases” thus rendering outdated something purchased only months earlier.  Unfortunately, just as “peak gorp” began with the release late in 1957 (replete with lashings of chrome and much else) of the 1958 ranges, an unexpected and quite sharp recession struck the American economy and a new mood of austerity began.  That would pass because the downturn, while unpleasant, was by the standard of post-war recessions, relative brief although the effects on the industry would be profound, structurally and financially.

1970 Plymouth 'Cuda AAR in Lemon Twist over Black.  The AAR stood for All American Racers, the teams which campaigned the 'Cuda in the Trans-Am series for 5.0 litre (305 cubic inch) modified production cars.

Not all "added-on" stuff can however be classed as "gorp", "bling" or "gingerbread" and the most significant threshold is "functionalism"; if stuff actually fulfils some purpose, it's just a fitting.  Thus the additional stuff which appeared on the 1970 Plymouth AAR ’Cuda (and the companion Dodge Challenger T/A) were “fittings” because they all fulfilled some purpose, even if the practical effect away from race tracks was sometimes marginal.  Added to the pair was (1) a fibreglass hood (bonnet) with functional air-intake scoop, (2) front and rear spoilers, (3) side outlet dual exhaust system, (4) hood locking pins and (5) staggered size front & rear wheels.  Of course, there were also “longitudinal strobe stripes” which did nothing functional but that seems a minor transgression and in the world of stripes, there have been many worse. 

Tatterdemalion

Tatterdemalion (pronounced tat-er-di-meyl-yuhn or tat-er-di-mal-yuhn)

(1) A person in tattered clothing; a shabby person.

(2) Ragged; unkempt or dilapidated.

(3) In fashion, (typically as “a tatterdemalion dress” etc), garments styled deliberately frayed or with constructed tears etc (also described as “distressed” or “destroyed”).

(4) A beggar (archaic).

1600–1610: The original spelling was tatter-de-mallian (the “demalion” rhymed with “Italian” in English pronunciation), the construct thus tatter + -demalion, of uncertain origin although the nineteenth century English lexicographer Ebenezer Cobham Brewer (1810-1897) (remembered still for his marvelous Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (1894) suggested it might be from de maillot (shirt) which does seem compelling.  Rather than the source, tatter is thought to have been a back-formation from tattered, from the Middle English tatered & tatird, from the Old Norse tǫturr.  Originally, it was derived from the noun, but it was later re-analysed as a past participle (the construct being tatter +‎ -ed) and from this came the verb.  As a noun a tatter was "a shred of torn cloth or an individual item of torn and ragged clothing" while the verb implied both (as a transitive) "to destroy an article of clothing by shredding" & (as an intransitive) "to fall into tatters".  Tatterdemalion is a noun & adjective and tatterdemalionism is a noun; the noun plural is tatterdemalions.

In parallel, there was also the parallel "tat", borrowed under the Raj from the Hindi टाट (ṭāṭ) (thick canvas) and in English it assumed a variety of meanings including as a clipping of tattoo, as an onomatopoeia referencing the sound made by dice when rolled on a table (and came to be used especially of a loaded die) and as an expression of disapprobation meaning “cheap and vulgar”, either in the context of low-quality goods or sleazy conduct.  The link with "tatty" in the sense of “shabby or ragged clothing” however apparently comes from tat as a clipping of the tatty, a woven mat or screen of gunny cloth made from the fibre of the Corchorus olitorius (jute plant) and noted for it loose, scruffy-looking weave.  Tatterdemalion is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is tatterdemalions.  The historic synonyms were shoddy, battered, broken, dilapidated, frayed, frazzled, moth-eaten, ragged, raggedy, ripped, ramshackle, rugged, scraggy, seedy, shabby, shaggy, threadbare, torn & unkempt and in the context of the modern fashion industry, distressed & destroyed.  An individual could also be described as a tramp, a ragamuffin, a vagabond, a vagrant, a gypsy or even a slum, some of those term reflecting class and ethnic prejudice or stereotypes.  Historically, tatterdemalion was also a name for a beggar.

A similar word in Yiddish was שמאַטע‎ (shmate or shmatte and spelled variously as schmatte, schmata, schmatta, schmate, schmutter & shmatta), from the Polish szmata, of uncertain origin but possibly from szmat (a fair amount).  In the Yiddish (and as adopted in Yinglish) it meant (1) a rag, (2) a piece of old clothing & (3) in the slang of the clothing trade, any item of clothing.  That was much more specific than the Polish szmata which meant literally "rag or old, ripped piece of cloth" but was used also figuratively to mean "publication of low journalistic standard" (ie analogous the English slang use of "rag") and in slang to refer to a woman of loose virtue (used as skank, slut etc might be used in English), a sense which transferred to colloquial use in sport to mean "simple shot", "easy goal" etc.

Designer distress: Lindsay Lohan illustrates the look.

Tatterdemalion is certainly a spectrum condition (the comparative “more tatterdemalion”; the superlative “most tatterdemalion”) and this is well illustrated by the adoption of the concept by fashionistas, modern capitalism soon there to supply demand.  In the fashion business, tatterdemalion needs to walk a fine line because tattiness was historically associated with poverty while designers need to provide garments which convey a message wealth.  The general terms for such garments is “distressed” although “destroyed” is (rather misleadingly) also used.

Highly qualified content provider Busty Buffy (b 1996) in “cut-off” denim shorts with leather braces while beltless.

The ancestor of designer tatterdemalion was a pair of “cut off” denim shorts, improvised not as a fashion statement but as a form of economy, gaining a little more life from a pair of jeans which had deteriorated beyond the point where mending was viable.  Until the counter-culture movements of the 1960s (which really began the previous decade but didn’t until the 1960s assume an expression in mass-market fashion trends), wearing cut-off jeans or clothing obviously patched and repaired generally was a marker of poverty although common in rural areas and among the industrial working class where it was just part of life.  It was only in the 1960s when an anti-consumerist, anti materialist vibe attracted the large cohort of youth created by the post-war “baby boom” that obviously frayed or torn clothing came to be an expression of disregard or even disdain for the prevailing standards of neatness (although paradoxically they were the richest “young generation” ever).  It was the punk movement in the 1970s which took this to whatever extremes seemed possible, the distinctive look of garments with rips and tears secured with safety pins so emblematic of (often confected) rebellion that in certain circles it remains to this day part of the “uniform”.  The fashion industry of course noted the trend and what would later be called “distressed” denim appeared in the lines of many mainstream manufacturers as early as the 1980s, often paired with the acid-washing and stone-washing which previously had been used to make a pair of jeans appear “older”, sometimes a desired look.

Dolce & Gabbana Distressed Jeans (part number FTCGGDG8ET8S9001), US$1150.

That it started with denim makes sense because it's the ultimate "classless" fabric in that it's worn by both rich and poor and while that has advantages for manufacturers, it does mean some are compelled to find ways to ensure buyers are able (blatantly or with some subtlety) to advertise what they are wearing is expensive; while no fashion house seems yet to have put the RRP (recommended retail price) on a leather patch, it may be only a matter of time.  The marketing of jeans which even when new gave the appearance of having been “broken in” by the wearer was by the 1970s a define niche, the quasi-vintage look of “fade & age” achieved with processes such as stone washing, enzyme washing, acid washing, sandblasting, emerizing and micro-sanding but this was just to create an effect, the fabrics not ripped or torn.  Distressed jeans represented the next step in the normal process of wear, fraying hems and seams, irregular fading and rips & tears now part of the aesthetic.  As an industrial process that’s not difficult to do but if done in the wrong way it won’t resemble exactly a pair of jeans subject to gradual degradation because different legs would have worn the denim at different places.  In the 2010s, the look spread to T-shirts and (predictably) hoodies, some manufacturers going beyond mere verisimilitude to (sort of) genuine authenticity, achieving the desired decorative by shooting shirts with bullets, managing a look which presumably the usual tricks of “nibbling & slashing” couldn’t quite emulate.  Warming to the idea, the Japanese label Zoo released jeans made from material torn by lions and tigers, the company anxious to mention the big cats in Tokyo Zoo seemed to "enjoy the fun" and to anyone who has seen a kitten with a skein of wool, that will sound plausible.  Others emulated the working-class look, the “caked-on muddy coating” and “oil and grease smears” another variant although one apparently short-lived; appearing dirty apparently never a fashionable choice.  All these looks had of course been seen for centuries, worn mostly by the poor with little choice but to eke a little more wear from their shabby clothes but in the late twentieth century, as wealth overtook Western society, the look was adopted by many with disposable income; firstly the bohemians, hippies and other anti-materialists before the punk movement which needed motifs with some capacity to shock, something harder to achieve than had once been the case.

Distressed top and bottom.  Gigi Hadid (b 1995) in distressed T-shirt and "boyfriend" jeans.

For poets and punks, improvising the look from the stocks of thrift shops, that was fine but for designer labels selling scruffy-looking jeans for four-figure sums, it was more of a challenge, especially as the social media generation had discovered that above all they liked authenticity and faux authenticity would not do, nobody wanting to look it to look they were trying too hard.  The might have seemed a problem, given the look was inherently fake but the aesthetic didn’t matter for its own sake, all that had to be denoted was “conspicuous consumption” (the excessive spending on wasteful goods as proof of wealth) and the juxtaposition of thousand dollar distressed jeans with the odd expensive accessory, achieved that and more, the discontinuities offering irony as a look.  The labels, the prominence of which remained a focus was enough for the message to work although one does wonder if any of the majors have been tempted to print a QR code on the back pocket, linked to the RRP because, what people are really trying to say is “My jeans cost US$1200”.

1962 AC Shelby American Cobra (CSX 2000), interior detail, 2016.

The value of selective scruffiness is well known in other fields.  When selling a car, usually a tatty interior greatly will depress the price (sometimes by more even than the cost of rectification).  However, if the tattiness is of some historic significance, it can add to car’s value, the best example being if the deterioration is part of a vehicle's provenance and proof of originality, a prized attribute to the segment of the collector market known as the “originally police”.  In 2016, what is recognized as the very first Shelby American AC Cobra (CSX 2000) sold for US$13.75 million, becoming the highest price realized at auction for what is classified as "American car".  Built in 1962, it was an AC Ace shipped to California without an engine (and apparently not AC's original "proof-of-concept" test bed which was fitted with one of the short-lived 221 cubic inch (3.6 litre) versions of Ford's new "thin-wall" Windsor V8) where the Shelby operation installed a 260 cubic inch (4.2 litre) Windsor and the rest is history.  The tatterdemalion state of the interior was advertised as one of the features of the car, confirming its status as “an untouched survivor”.  Among Cobra collectors, patina caused by Carroll Shelby's (1923–2012) butt is a most valuable tatterdemalion.

Patina plus and beyond buffing out: Juan Manuel Fangio, Mercedes-Benz W196R Stromlinienwagen (Streamliner), British Grand Prix, Silverstone, 17 July 1954.

Also recommended to be repaired before sale are dents, anything battered unlikely to attract a premium.  However, if a dent was put there by a Formula One (F1) world champion, it becomes a historic artefact.  In 1954, Mercedes-Benz astounded all when their new grand prix car (the W196R) appeared with all-enveloping bodywork, allowed because of a since closed loophole in the rule-book.  The sensuous shape made the rest of the field look antiquated although underneath it was a curious mix of old and new, the fuel-injection and desmodromic valve train representing cutting edge technology while the swing axles and drum brakes spoke to the past and present, the engineers’ beloved straight-eight configuration (its last appearance in F1) definitely the end of an era.  On fast tracks like Monza, the aerodynamic bodywork delivered great speed and stability but the limitations were exposed when the team ran the Stromlinienwagen at tighter circuits and in the 1954 British Grand Prix at Silverstone, Juan Manuel Fangio (1911–1995; winner of five F1 world-championship driver's titles) managed to clout a couple of oil-drums (those and bails of hay how track safety was then done) because it was so much harder to determine the extremities without being able to see the front wheels.  Quickly, the factory concocted a functional (though visually unremarkable) open-wheel version and the sleek original was thereafter used only on the circuits where the highest speeds were achieved.  In 1954, the factory was unconcerned with the historic potential of the dents and repaired the tatterdemalion W196R so an artefact of the era was lost.  That apart, as used cars the W196Rs have held their value well, an open-wheel version selling at auction in 2013 for US$29.7 million while in 2025 a Stromlinienwagen realized US$53.9 million.  

1966 Ferrari 330 GTC (1966-1968) restored by Bell Sport & Classic.  Many restored Ferraris of the pre-1974 era are finished to a much higher standard than when they left the showroom.  Despite this, genuine, original "survivors" (warts and all) are much-sought in some circles.

In the collector car industry, tatterdemalion definitely is a spectrum condition and for decades the matter of patina versus perfection has been debated.  There was once the idea that in Europe the preference was for a vehicle to appear naturally aged (well-maintained but showing the wear of decades of use) while the US market leaned towards cars restored to the point of being as good (or better) than they were on the showroom floor.  Social anthropologists might have some fun exploring that perception of difference and it was certainly never a universal rule but the debate continues, as does the argument about “improving” on the original.  Some of the most fancied machinery of the 1950s and 1960s (notably Jaguars, Ferraris and Maseratis) is now a staple of the restoration business but, although when new the machines looked gorgeous, it wasn’t necessary to dig too deep to find often shoddy standards of finish, the practice at the time something like sweeping the dirt “under the rug”.  When "restored", many of these cars are re-built to a higher standard, what was often left rough because it sat unseen somewhere now smoothed to perfection.  That’s what some customers want and the best restoration shops can do either though there are questions about whether what might be described as “fake patina” is quite the done thing.  Mechanics and engineers who were part of building Ferraris in the 1960s, upon looking at some immaculately “restored” cars have been known wryly to remark: “that wasn't how we built them then.”

1939 Ford Deluxe coupe restored in “distressed-look green”.

The industry describes restorations which emulate the “worn survivor” appearance variously as “distressed look” or “patina look”.  There’s clearly a market for both machines restored to (or beyond) the state they’d have been in on the showroom floor and those finished in a way which resembles how they’d likely look if merely for decades well-used yet maintained.  The convention in the later is for mechanical components to be restored to original condition while interiors tend to be allowed to show some age if of leather but refurbished or renewed to an immaculate state if of a fabric.  Interior timbers are almost always restored.  Usually the exterior finish is rendered conventionally with paint but some use wraps which can make something like minor surface rust appear more realistic.  The sub-genres of restomods (older cars which maintain a substantially original appearance but fitted with modern mechanical components) and rat-rods (which create intentionally dilapidated appearance but with modern components beneath) both in their own way take a mix-n-match approach to things but while the classic restromod is a “Q-ship” in that while externally indistinguishable from an original, the performance is much higher, the rat-rod ethos is from the Dolly Parton (b 1946) school of “it takes a lot of money to look this cheap”.

Gucci offered Distressed Tights at US$190 (for a pair so quite good value).  Rapidly, they sold-out.

The fake patina business goes back quite a way.  Among antique dealers, it’s now a definite niche but from the point at which the industrial revolution began to create a new moneyed class of mine and factory owners, there was a sub-set of the new money (and there are cynics who suggest it was mostly at the prodding of their wives) who wished to seem more like old money and a trend began to seek out “aged” furniture with which a man might deck out his (newly acquired) house to look as if things had been in the family for generations.  The notoriously snobbish (and amusing) diarist Alan Clark (1928–1999) once referred to someone as looking like “they had to buy their own chairs”, prompting one aristocrat to respond: “That’s a bit much from someone whose father (the art historian and life peer Kenneth Clark (1903–1983)) had to buy his own castle.”  The old money were of course snooty about the such folk and David Lloyd George (1863–1945; UK prime-minister 1916-1922) would lament many of the “jumped-up grocers” in his Liberal Party were more troublesome and less sympathetic to the troubles of the downtrodden than the "backwoodsmen" gentry in their inherited country houses.