Kitsch

Kitsch (pronounced kich)

(1) Something though tawdry in design or appearance; an object created to appeal to popular sentiment or undiscriminating tastes, especially if cheap (and thus thought a vulgarity).

(2) Art, decorative objects and other forms of representation of dubious artistic or aesthetic value (many consider this definition too wide).

1926: From the German kitsch (literally “gaudy, trash”), from the dialectal kitschen (to coat; to smear) which in the nineteenth century was used (as a German word) in English in art criticism describe a work as “something thrown together”.  Among “progressive” critics, there was a revival in the 1930s to contrast anything thought conservative or derivative with the avant garde.  The adjective kitchy was first noted in 1965 though it may earlier have been in oral use; the noun kitchiness soon followed. Camp is sometimes used as a synonym and the two can be interchangeable but the core point of camp is that it attributes seriousness to the trivial and trivializes the serious.  Technically, the comparative is kitscher and the superlative kitschest but the more general kitschy is much more common.  The alternative spelling kitch is simply a mistake and was originally 1920s slang for “kitchen” the colloquial shortening dating from 1919.  Kitsch & kitchiness are nouns, kitschify, kitschifying & kitschified are verbs and kitschy & kitchlike are adjectives; the noun plural is kitsch (especially collectively) or kitsches.  Kitschesque is non-standard.

Kitsch can become ironic: a lava lamp in "hot dog stand" red & mustard.  Lava lamps were in the 1970s briefly fashionable as symbols of the modern but were soon re-classified kitsch.  In the twenty-first century, such was the demand that re-creations of the originals became available, bought because they were so kitsch; iconic can thus be ironic.

For something that lacks an exact definition, the concept of kitsch seems well-understood  although not all would agree on what objects are kitsch and what are not.  Nor is there always a sense about it of a self-imposed exclusionary rule; there are many who cherish objects they happily acknowledge are kitsch.  As a general principle, kitsch is used to describe art, objects or designs thought to be in poor taste or overly sentimental.  Objects condemned as kitsch are often mass-produced, clichéd, gaudy (the term “bling” might have been invented for the kitsch) or cheap imitations of something.  It can take some skill to adopt the approach but other items which can be part of the motif include rotary dial phones ("retro" can be a thing which transcends kitsch) and three ceramic ducks "flying" up the wall (although when lava lamps were in vogue, lava lamp buyers probably already thought them kitsch).  An application of physics of thermodynamics and fluid mechanics, the lava lamps once so admired by stoned hippies work by exploiting differences in density, thermal expansion, and buoyancy within two immiscible fluids (ie they do not mix), the dynamics driven by a localized heat source and the construction is simple; in a variously shaped glass vessel, there is a wax-based compound (the “lava”, which typically is paraffin wax mixed with additives to adjust density and melting point), floating in a liquid (usually water or a water-based solution with salts or alcohols to achieve the desired density).  At the base of the vessel there is a source of light and heat which traditionally was an incandescent bulb, the heat a product of the inefficiency with which the energy was converted into light; when the bulb is switched on, the liquid becomes heated and as the wax absorbs some of this heat, it melts and thermally expands, density thereby decreasing to the point it’s slightly less dense than the surrounding liquid.  Buoyant force then causes the wax to rise through the liquid in blobs, randomness meaning tiny variations in surface tension and viscosity create infinitely different shapes of the rounded forms which cool as they move away from the heat source, meaning the wax contracts, increasing its density beyond that of the liquid, causing it to sink back toward the bottom.  Because it’s a closed system working on a continuous cycle, the heating & cooling repeats continuously and, component failure and material decay aside, in theory a lava lamp could run forever.

Lindsay Lohan: Prom Queen scene in Mean Girls (2004).  If rendered in precious metal and studded with diamonds a tiara is not kitsch but something which is the same design but made with anodized plastic and acrylic rhinestones certainly is.

Führerkitsch: A painting attributed to Adolf Hitler.

The Nazi regime devoted much attention to spectacle and representational architecture & art was a particular interest of Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945).  Hitler in his early adulthood had been a working artist, earning a modest living from his brush while living in Vienna in the years before World War I (1914-1918) and his landscapes and buildings were, if lifeless and uninspired, executed competently enough to attract buyers.  He was rejected by the academy because he could never master a depiction of the human form, his faces especially lacking, something which has always intrigued psychoanalysts, professional and amateur.  Still, while his mind was completely closed to any art of which he didn’t approve, he was genuinely knowledgeable about many schools of art and better than many he knew what was kitsch.  However, the nature of the “Führer state” meant he had to see much of it because the personality cult built around him encouraged a deluge of Hitler themed pictures, statuettes, lampshades, bedspreads, cigarette lighters and dozens of other items.  A misocapnic non-smoker, he ordered a crackdown on things like ashtrays but generally the flow of kitsch continued unabated until the demands of the wartime economy prevailed.

To the Berghof, his alpine headquarters on the Bavarian Obersalzberg near Berchtesgaden, Barvaria, there were constant deliveries of things likes cushions embroidered with swastikas in which would now be called designer colors and more than one of his contemporaries in their memoirs recorded that the gifts sometimes would be accompanied by suggestive photographs and offers of marriage.  Truly that was “working towards the Führer”.  At the aesthetic level he of course didn't approve but appreciated the gesture although they seem never to have appeared in photographs of the house’s principle rooms, banished to places like the many surrounding buildings including the conservatory of Hans Wichenfeld (the chalet on which the Berghof was based).

Hitler's study in the Berghof with only matched cushions (left) and the conservatory (centre & right) with some pillowshams (embroidered with swastikas and the initials A.H.).

In the US, Life magazine in October 1939 (a few weeks after the Nazis had invaded Poland) published a lush color feature focused on Hitler’s paintings and the Berghof, the piece a curious mix of what even then were called “human-interest stories”, political commentary and artistic & architectural criticism.  One heading :“Paintings by Adolf Hitler: The Statesman Longs to Be an Artist and Helps Design His Mountain Home” illustrates the flavor but this was a time before the most awful aspects of Nazi rule were understood and Life’s editors were well-aware a significant proportion of its readership were well disposed towards Hitler’s regime.  Still, there was some wry humor in the text, assessing the Berghof as possessing the qualities of a “…combination of modern and Bavarian chalet” styles, something “awkward but interesting” while the interiors, “…designed and decorated with Hitler’s active collaboration, are the comfortable kind of rooms a man likes, furnished in simple, semi-modern, sometimes dramatic style. The furnishings are in very good taste, fashioned of rich materials and fine woods by the best craftsmen in the Reich.”  Life seemed to be most taken with the main stairway leading up from the ground floor which was judged “a striking bit of modern architecture.”  Whether or not the editors were aware Hitler thought “modern architecture” suitable only for factories, warehouses and such isn’t clear.  They also had fun with what hung on the walls, noting: “Like other Nazi leaders, Hitler likes pictures of nudes and ruins” but anyway concluded that “in a more settled Germany, Adolf Hitler might have done quite well as an interior decorator.”  There was no comment on the Führer’s pillows and cushions.

Lindsay Lohan themed pillowshams are available.

Whatever Life’s views on him as interior decorator, decades later, his architect was prepared to note the dictator’s “beginner’s mistakes” as designer.  In Erinnerungen (Memories or Reminiscences), published in English as Inside the Third Reich (1969)), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) recalled:

“A huge picture window in the living room, famous for its size and the fact that it could be lowered, was Hitler s pride.  It offered a view of the Untersberg, Berchtesgaden, and Salzburg. However, Hitler had been inspired to situate his garage underneath this window; when the wind was unfavorable, a strong smell of gasoline penetrated into the living room.  All in all, this was a ground plan that would have been graded D by any professor at an institute of technology. On the other hand, these very clumsinesses gave the Berghof a strongly personal note. The place was still geared to the simple activities of a former weekend cottage, merely expanded to vast proportions.”

He commented also on the pillowshams: “The furniture was bogus old- German peasant style and gave the house a comfortable petit-bourgeois look.  A brass canary cage, a cactus, and a rubber plant intensified this impression.  There were swastikas on knickknacks and pillows embroidered by admiring women, combined with, say, a rising sun or a vow of "eternal loyalty."  Hitler commented to me with some embarrassment: "I know these are not beautiful things, but many of them are presents.  I shouldn't like to part with them."

The gush was also trans-Atlantic.  William George Fitz-Gerald (circa 1870-1942) was a prolific Irish journalist who wrote under the pseudonym Ignatius Phayre and the English periodical Country Life published his account of a visit to the Berchtesgaden retreat on the invitation of his “personal friend” Adolf Hitler.  The idea of Hitler having a "friend" (as the word conventionally is understood) is not plausible but that an invitation was extended might in the circumstances have been though is unexceptional.  Although when younger, Fitz-Gerald’s writings had shown some liberal instincts, by the “difficult decade” of the 1930s, experience seems to have persuaded him the world's problems were caused by democracy and the solution was an authoritarian system, headed by what he called “the long looked for leader.”  Clearly taken by his contributor’s stance, in introducing the story, Country Life’s editor called Hitler “one of the most extraordinary geniuses of the century” and noted “the Führer is fond of painting in water-colours and is a devotee of Mozart.”

Country Life, March 1936 (both Hermann Göring (1893–1946) and Werner von Blomberg (1878–1946) were then generals and not field marshals).  General Göring wearing the traditional southern German Lederhosen (leather breeches) must have been a sight worth seeing.

Substantially, the piece in Country Life also appeared in the journal Current History with the title: Holiday with Hitler: A Personal Friend Tells of a Personal Visit with Der Führer — with a Minimum of Personal Bias”.  In hindsight it may seem a challenge for a journalist, two years on from the regime’s well-publicized murders of probably hundreds of political opponents (and some unfortunate bystanders who would now be classed as “collateral damage”) in the pre-emptive strike against the so-called “Röhm putsch”, to keep bias about the Nazis to a minimum although many in his profession did exactly that, some notoriously.  It’s doubtful Fitz-Gerald visited the Obersalzberg when he claimed or that he ever met Hitler because his story is littered with minor technical errors and absurdities such as Der Führer personally welcoming him upon touching down at Berchtesgaden’s (non-existent) aerodrome or the loveliness of the cherry orchid (not a species to survive in alpine regions).  Historians have concluded the piece was assembled with a mix of plagiarism and imagination, a combination increasingly familiar since the internet encouraged its proliferation.  Still, with the author assuring his readers Hitler was really more like the English country gentlemen with which they were familiar than the frightening and ranting “messianic” figure he was so often portrayed, it’s doubtful the Germans ever considered complaining about the odd deviation from the facts and just welcomed the favourable publicity.

As a "cut & paste" working journalist used to editing details so he could sell essentially the same piece to several different publications, he inserted and deleted as required, Current History’s subscribers spared the lengthy descriptions of the Berghof’s carpets, curtains and furniture enjoyed by Country Life’s readers who were also able to learn of the food severed at der Tabellenführer, (the leader's table) the Truite saumonée à la Monseigneur Selle (salmon trout Monseigneur style) and caneton à la presse (pressed duck) both praised although in all the many accounts of life of the court circle’s life on the Obersalzberg, there no mention of the vegetarian Hitler ever having such things on the menu.

Djuna Barnes (1892–1982) in polka-dots.

Briefly, Putzi Hanfstaengl was engaged to the US author Djuna Barnes who, although she denied being predominantly lesbionic, was regarded by some contemporary critics as having written the most definitive expressions of lesbian culture since Sappho.  It was one of Hanfstaengl's wives who spoke the most succinct thumbnail sketch of Hitler's sexuality: “I am telling you Putzi, he is a neuter.”

Fitz-Gerald was though skilled at his craft and interpolated enough that was known to be true or at least plausible to paint a veneer of authenticity over the whole.  Of the guests he reported: (1) Hitler’s long-time German-American acquaintance & benefactor (when speaking of Hitler, both better words than "friend") Ernst "Putzi" Hanfstaengl (1887–1975 and a one-time friend of Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) was a fine piano player (which nobody ever denied), (2) that Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) was a wine connoisseur (he entered the wine business after marrying into the Henkell family’s Wiesbaden business although his mother-in-law remained mystified, remarking of his career in government it was: “curious my most stupid son-in-law should have turned out to be the most successful” and (3) that Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) was an engaging dinner companion and a “droll raconteur” (it is true Goebbels’ cynicism and cruel wit could be amusing even to those appalled by his views, something like the way one didn’t have to agree with the press baron Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) to enjoy his tart cleverness).  Much of the credibility was however sustained by it being so difficult for most to “check the facts” and few would have been able to find out that in the spring of 1936 when Fitz-Gerald claimed to be enjoying the Führer’s hospitality, the quaint old Haus Wachenfeld was part of a vast building site, the place being transformed into the sprawling Berghof, the whole area unliveable and far from the idyllic scene portrayed.

Führerkitsch: A painting attributed to Adolf Hitler.

Dutifully, Hitler acknowledged the many paintings which which were little more than regime propaganda although the only works for which he showed any real enthusiasm were those which truly he found beautiful.  However, he knew there was a place for the kitsch… for others.  In July 1939, while being shown around an exhibition staged in Munich called the “Day of German Art”, he complained to the curator that some German artists were not on display and after being told they were “in the cellar”, demanded to know why.  The only one with sufficient strength of character to answer was Frau Gerhardine "Gerdy" Troost (1904–2003), the widow of the Nazi’s first court architect Paul Troost (1878–1934) and one of a handful of women with whom Hitler was prepared to discuss anything substantive.  “Because it’s kitsch” she answered.  Hitler sacked the curatorial committee and appointed his court photographer (Heinrich Hoffmann (1885–1957)) to supervise the exhibition and the depictions of happy, healthy peasants and heroic nude warriors returned.  Hitler must have been satisfied with Herr Hoffman's selections because in November that year he conferred on him the honorific "professor", a title he would award about as freely as he would later create field marshals.

Kitsch: One knows it when one sees it.

What is kitsch will be obvious to some while others will remain oblivious and the disagreements will happen not only at the margins.  Although there will be sensitive souls appalled at the notion, it really is something wholly subjective and the only useful guide is probably to borrow and adapt the threshold test for obscenity coined by Justice Potter Stewart (1915–1985; associate justice of the US Supreme Court 1958-1981) in Jacobellis v Ohio (1964):

I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it…

Matinée de septembre (September Morn (1911)), oil on canvas by Paul Émile Chabas (1869–1937), in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City (not currently on display).

What makes something defined (or re-defined) as kitsch is thus a construct of factors including artistic merit (most obviously when lacking), the price tag and the social or political circumstances of the time.  When Paul Émile showed Matinée de Septembre at the Paris Salon of 1912, it did not attract much comment, female nudes having for decades been a common sight in the nation’s galleries (although there had been a legislative crackdown on low-cost commercial products, presumably on the basis that while the “educated classes” could appreciate nudes in art, working class men ogled naked women merely for titillation).  In other words, Parisian salon-goers had seen it all before and Matinée de Septembre, while judged competently executed, was in no way compelling or exceptional.  The work may thus have been relegated to an occasional footnote in the history of art were it not for the reaction in Chicago when a reproduction appeared in the street-front window of a photography store.  Reflecting the contrasting aspirations of those Europeans who first settled in the continent, in the US there has always been a tension between Puritanism and Libertarianism and one of the distinguishing characteristics of the USSC (US Supreme Court) is that it has, over centuries, sometimes imperfectly, managed usually to interpret the constitution in a way which straddles these competing imperatives with rulings cognizant of what prevailing public opinion will accept and while the judges weren’t required to rule on the matter of Matinée de Septembre’s appearance in a shop window, the brief furore was an example of one of the country’s many moral panics.

Although at first instance a jury found the work not obscene and thus fit for public view, local politicians quickly responded and found a way to ensure such things were restricted to art galleries and museums, places less frequented by those “not of the better classes”.  The notoriety gained from becoming a succès de scandale (from the French and literally “success from scandal”) made it one of the best-known paintings in the US and, not being copyrighted, widely it was reproduced in prints, on accessories and parodied in what would now be called memes.  The popularity however meant a re-assessment of the artistic merit and many critics dismissed it as “mere kitsch” although it was in 1957 donated to New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art where it has on occasion been hung as well as being loaned to overseas institutions.  The Met placed it in storage in 2014 and while that’s not unusual, whether the decision was taken because of it’s the depiction of one so obviously youthful isn’t clear.  The artist claimed his model was at the time aged 16 (thus some two years older than the star-cross’d lover in William Shakespeare’s (1564–1616) Romeo and Juliet (1597) and half a decade older than the girl who appeared on the cover of Blind Faith’s one-off eponymous album (1969)) but there is now heightened sensitivity to such depictions.

Kitsch also has a history also of becoming something else.  As recently as the 1970s, tea-towels, placemats, oven mitts, tea-trays and plenty else in the West was available adorned with depictions of indigenous peoples, often as racist tropes or featuring the appropriation of culturally sensitive symbols.  These are now regarded as kitsch only historically and have been re-classified as examples variously (depending on the content) of cultural insensitivity or blatant racism.

Kitsch at work: Lava Lamps and Random Number Generation

Some may have dismissed the Lava Lamp as "kitsch" but the movement of the blobs possesses properties which have proved useful in a way their inventor could never have anticipated.  The US-based Cloudflare is a “nuts & bolts” internet company which provides various services including content delivery, DNS (Domain Name Service), domain registration and cybersecurity; in some aspects of the internet, Cloudflare’s services underpin as many as one in five websites so when Cloudflare has a problem, the world has a problem.  For many reasons, the generation of truly random numbers is essential for encryption and other purposes but to create them continuously and at scale is a challenge.  It’s a challenge even for home decorators who want a random pattern for their tiles, their difficulty being that however a large number of tiles in two or more colors are arranged, more often than not, at least one pattern will be perceived.  That doesn’t mean the tiles are not in a random arrangement, just that people’s expectation of “randomness” is a shape with no discernible pattern whereas in something like a floor laid with tiles, in a random distribution of colors, it would be normal to see patterns; they too are a product of randomness in the same way there’s no reason why if tossing a coin ten times, it cannot all ten times fall as a head.  What interior decorators want is not necessarily randomness but a depiction of randomness as it exists in the popular imagination.

Useful kitsch: Wall of Entropy, Cloudflare, San Francisco.  Had this been in an installation in a New York gallery circa 1972, it would have been called art.  

For most purposes, computers can be good enough at generating random numbers but in the field of cryptography, they’re used to create encryption keys and the concern is that what one computer can construct, another computer might be able to deconstruct because both digital devices are working in ways which are in some ways identical.  For this reason, using a machine alone has come to be regarded as a Pseudo-Random Number Generator (PRNG) simply because they are deterministic.  A True Random Number Generator (TRNG) uses something genuinely random and unpredictable and this can be as simple as the tiny movements of the mouse in a user’s hand or elaborate as a system of lasers interacting with particles.

One of Cloudflare’s devices encapsulating unpredictability (and thus randomness) is an installation of 100 lava lamps, prominently displayed on a wall in their San Francisco office.  Dubbed Cloudflare’s “Wall of Entropy”, it uses an idea proposed as long ago as 1996 which exploited the fluid movements in an array of lava lamps being truly random; as far as is known, it remains impossible to model (and thus predict) the flow.  What Cloudflare does is every few milliseconds take a photograph of the lamps, the shifts in movement converted into numeric values.  As well as the familiar electrical mechanism, the movement of the blobs is influenced by external random events such as temperature, vibration and light, the minute variations in each creating a multiplier effect which is translated into random numbers, 16,384 bits of entropy each time.

Wall of Entropy, Cloudflare, San Francisco.

The arrangement of colors which avoids any two being together, in the horizontal or vertical, was a deliberate choice rather than randomness although, there's no reason why, had the selection truly been random, this wouldn't have been the result.  Were there an infinite number of Walls of Entropy, every combination would exist including ones which avoid color paring and ones in which the colors are clustered to the extent of perfectly matching rows, colums or sides.  What Cloudflare have done in San Francisco is make the lamps conform to the popular perception of randomness and that's fine because the colors have no (thus far observed) effect on the function.  In art and for other purposes, what's truly random is sometimes modified so it conforms to the popular idea of randomness.

Quale

Quale (pronounced kwah-lee, kwah-ley, kwey-lee or kwey-ley)

(1) In philosophy, a property of something considered separately from the thing having that property; an instance of subjective, conscious experience.

(2) A sense-datum or feeling having a distinctive quality.

(3) Death; a plague; a murrain (obsolete).

1665–1675: From the Latin quāle, neuter singular of quālis (of what sort; of what kind) and cognate with the Old English cwalu and the Old Norse kval (torment, torture), both variants from the root of quell.  The later was from quala, from the French quel, the Italian quale and the Spanish cual, ultimately from the Latin quālis, from the primitive Indo-European kwis & kwo (interrogative, relative stem) and (speculatively) hzel (to grow); it was cognate with the Ancient Greek πηλίκος (pēlíkos).  Quale is a noun; the noun plural is qualia (quals is the plural of qual (a clipping of “qualifying exam”).

Qualia are the subjective or qualitative properties of experiences: Some find the experience of seeing a white Ferrari as different from viewing one in white as another might find when comparing an orchid to hemlock.  Although it had appeared before (adding to an already long list of technical terms in the discipline), in philosophy, qualia was first used in its current sense in a paper published in 1929 by US scholar Clarence Irving ("C.I.") Lewis (1883–1964).  Lewis was discussing sense-data theory and explained that he used the word, qualia were properties of sense-data themselves.  Emerging from what was at the time a rather dusty corner of academic philosophy, quale came to be more widely used (especially with the rapid growth of universities in the post-war period) and the sense expanded to refer more generally to properties of experience. While there are experiences which truly are universal with no differentiation in qualia among people, other perceptual experiences (which can be of the mind such as hallucinations, or of the body such a headache, or wholly emotional such as anger or anxiety) intrinsically have a qualitative quality: their quale.

Different qualia likely: 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4.  The term “resale red” (the idea re-painting a sports car red increases its resale value) may not have been coined to describe the Ferrari after-market but such is the association of red (particularly the classic Rosso Corsa) with the marque that some find other shades a disappointment.  However, the right Ferrari in one of the Biancos (variants of white) displays the purity of line as no other color can.

The old, and long obsolete, use of quale to mean “death” seems no longer makes sense given the way the meaning of the word has shifted.  However, although for the deceased, once dead, the experience is the same whether one was struck by a meteorite, drank one’s self to death or was murdered by the Freemasons, the manner of death might mean a different quale for the departed’s grieving loved ones.  That quirk aside, although the existence of qualia seem obvious, in philosophy, there have been decades of disputes, may focused on whether qualia can be identified with or reduced to anything physical, the suggesting being any attempted explanation of the world in solely physicalist terms would leave qualia out.  In the way of squabbles about things which can be neither be proved nor disproved, a century from now lecturers and professors are likely still to be exchanging views.

Qualia are the subjective (individually and differentially qualitative) properties of experiences and the differences between individuals are sometimes significant.  Two people drinking from the same bottle of wine may have two different experiences: one finding pleasure, one distaste; two diametrically opposed qualia.  Why this happens was explained in Why You Like The Wines You Like (2013) by Tim Hanni (b 1952), a certified Master of Wine (MW).  The certification process is administered by the Court of Master Sommeliers, established in 1977, formalizing the layers of qualification that began in 1969 in London with the first Master Sommelier examination.  It’s now conducted by the various chapters of the court and globally, they’re a rare few.  While over 600 people have been to space and there are rumored to be some 4000 members of the Secret Society of the Les Clefs d'Or, there are currently only 262 Master Sommeliers in the world; they describe themselves as “cork dorks”.

Lindsay Lohan explaining her quale upon tasting wine in The Parent Trap (1998).  IRL, she decided to focus on acting, pursuing wine-tasting only as a hobby. 

What Hanni’s book explored were the physiological and psychological reasons peoples’ experience of the taste of wine are so divergent; some factors obvious, some more subtle.  In partnership with US psychologist Dr Linda Bartoshuk (b 1938), he developed what was dubbed the “vinotype” assessment, used to explore individual preferences for, and tolerance of, various external stimuli and how those generalized preferences (or “tolerances”) affect the appreciation of wine.  Essentially, there are those who are “hypersensitive” to tastes and those who are less perceptive (ie “less sensitive”) and thus categorized as “more tolerant”.  That sounds banally predictable but there are social and economic implications because it’s clear an individual’s personal preference is determined by personal physiology and social context as well as the way the taste receptors in the mouth work.  There is still the cultural perception that those who prefer sweet wines to dry are those with a less trained or discerning palate but the difference really depends more than anything on whether or not one is one of the “hypersensitive”.  Despite that, there are social pressures (real or perceived) and some feel compelled, at least in public, to avoid sweet wines, lest they be thought unsophisticated.

Orchidaceous

Orchidaceous (pronounced awr-ki-dey-shuhs)

(1) In botany, of, relating to, or belonging to the Orchidaceae, a family of flowering plants including (but not limited to) the orchids.

(2) Figuratively, characterized by ostentatiousness; showy; extravagant; excessive in some way.

1830–1840: From the New Latin Orchidace & Orchidaceae, the construct being orchidace + -ous.  It was English botanist John Lindley (1799–1865) who in School Botanty (1845) coined the word orchid from the New Latin Orchideæ & Orchidaceae (Linnaeus), the plant's family name, from the Latin orchis (a kind of orchid), from the Ancient Greek orkhis (genitive orkheos) (orchid (literally “testicle”)) from the primitive Indo-European orghi-, the standard root for “testicle” (and related to the Avestan erezi (testicles), the Armenian orjik, the Middle Irish uirgge, the Irish uirge (testicle) and the Lithuanian erzilas (stallion).  The plant so called because of the shape of its root was said so to resemble testicles (the Greek orkhis also was the name of a kind of olive, named also for its shape).  So striking did the writers of Antiquity fine the double roots of the plant that references appear in some texts.  The Roman historian Pliny the Elder (24-79) was (as was common at the time) also something of a naturalist and he was moved to observe: “Mirabilis est orchis herba sive serapis gemina radice testiculis simili.” (The orchis plant, also known as serapis, is remarkable with its twin roots resembling testicles.)  The noun plural is orchids, the field is orchidology and the breeders, collectors and other obsessives are called orchidologists.  Orchidaceous & orchidean are adjectives and orchidacity is a noun; the noun plural is orchidacities.

Earlier in English (in the Latinesque form) was the mid-sixteenth century orchis while in fourteenth century Middle English it was ballockwort (literally “testicle plant” and related to the more recent ballocks).  The extraneous -d- in the modern spelling was added in an attempt to extract the Latin stem and it is here to stay, the history of that the construct as orch(is) (the plant) + -id(ae).  The irregular suffix –idae is the plural of a Latin transliteration of the Ancient Greek -ίδης (-ídēs), a patronymic suffix which in medieval writing was sometimes interpreted as representing instead the plural of a Latin transliteration of the Ancient Greek adjectival suffix -ειδής (-eidḗs) from εἶδος (eîdos) (appearance, resemblance).  It was adopted in 1811 at the suggestion of British entomologist William Kirby (1759-1850), to simplify and make uniform the system of French zoologist Pierre André Latreille (1762–1833) which divided insect orders into sections; in taxonomy, it’s used to form names of subclasses of plants and families of animals.  The –ous suffix was from the Middle English -ous, from the Old French –ous & -eux, from the Latin -ōsus (full, full of); a doublet of -ose in an unstressed position.  It was used to form adjectives from nouns, to denote possession or presence of a quality in any degree, commonly in abundance.  In chemistry, it has a specific technical application, used in the nomenclature to name chemical compounds in which a specified chemical element has a lower oxidation number than in the equivalent compound whose name ends in the suffix –ic (as an example, sulphuric acid (H₂SO₄) has more oxygen atoms per molecule than sulphurous acid (H₂SO₃).

The sensual orchid.

In the spirit of the figurative use (and usually of women’s fashion), although they’re non-standard, the adjective orchidaceousness and the adverb orchidaceously have been formed and in that vein, the only thing which would make orchidaceous difficult to use as a noun would be forming the plural (orchidaceoux would appall the purists).  Usually though, those commenting on what appears on the catwalks & red carpets seem content with the comparative (more orchidaceous) and the superlative (most orchidaceous).  Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) noted the old spelling (orchis) was “applied chiefly to the English wild flowers and is accordingly the poetic and country word”.  The very idea of “the country word” is now dated and was a particular sort of regionalism: one used by those tied by linguistic tradition to rural England rather than certain locations, and if orchis endures as a literary or poetic device, it’s rare.  Of flowers, although orchidaceous can mean “of, relating to, or belonging to the Orchidaceae”, such is the beauty of orchids, those who write of the things seem drawn to use sexual imagery and rarely can resist “seductive” and other lovely plants are sometimes also described as orchidaceous.

The original etymology survives in medicine as orchidectomy although the construct of that was the Latin orchis (wrongly interpreting orchid- as the stem) +‎ -ectomy (the surgical removal of); the correct term is actually orchiectomy (the surgical removal of one or both testes).  The synonym is testectomy which is interesting because the use of that within the profession (usually by veterinarians) does not of necessity imply something surgical.  The -ectomy suffix was from the Ancient Greek -εκτομία (-ektomía) (a cutting out of), from ἐκτέμνω (ektémnō) (to cut out), the construct being ἐκ (ek) (out) + τέμνω (témnō) (to cut).  In surgery, it was appended to the name of whatever is being removed (eg an appendectomy being the surgical removal of the appendix) although it's borrowed (often for jocular purposes) by plumbers, carpenters and others in professions where there often a need to "cut things off", a "roofectomy" being the process by which a coach-builder converts a coupé (or other closed vehicle) into some sort of convertible.

Lindsay Lohan in a Gucci Porcelain Garden print gown (the list price a reputed Stg£4,040) at the launch of the One Family NGO (non-governmental organization), Savoy Hotel, London, June 2017 (left) and Taylor Swift in Etro navy and yellow silk floral ball gown at the Golden Globes award ceremony, The Beverly Hilton, Los Angeles, January 2020 (right).

Neither cutting-edge nor retro in the conventional sense of the word, Lindsay Lohan’s gown was mostly well-received and for students of intricacy it was worth studying although probably few would have called it orchidaceous because it conveyed such a sense of the conservative; only a burqa could have been more modest.  That’s why the blue was such a good choice; in scarlet there would have been mixed messages.  Some thought it Rococo and perhaps thematically it could have been done with just a ruffled collar, the pussy bow a detail too many, but the patterning was clever and accentuated the lines.  While it’s not certain the vivid floral patterns on Taylor Swift’s gown were actually intended to be suggestive of orchids, the effect was orchidaceous.  It was an exercise in monumentalism which swished around as wafted about, recalling the flowers of an orchid in a breeze.

Orchidacity in Solid colors: Gigi Hadid and the Met Gala, New York, May 2022 (left), Sophie Monk at the TV Week Logie Awards-Gold Coast, Australia, June 2019 (centre) and Carolina Gaitan at the Academy Awards ceremony, Los Angeles, March 2022 (right).

Although dedicated (ie obsessional) orchidologists adhere to the language from botanical taxonomy (Epidendrum, Ludisia, Masdevallia, Erythraeum, Promenaea, Spathoglottis, Psychopsis, Angraecum, Encyclia cochleata etc) when classifying their collections, most people describe them in terms of the dominant color or, when a combination is particular striking (as many of the blues & purples especially are) that mix is referenced (orange/yellow, purple/white etc) but that doesn’t mean that for some object to be thought orchidaceous it must be multi-hued.  That’s because the allure of an orchid lies not in the colors but in the sensuality of the shape; they are the sexiest of flowers, soft, feminine things which seem to draw one in to be enveloped.

Giulia Salemie (b 1993, left) & Dayane Mello (b 1989, right), Venice Film Festival, Italy, September 2016.

The trend in recent years for the “naked dress” to become the red carpet motif of the era might have been thought to limit the possibility of the creations being thought orchidaceous because the focus is so much on flesh rather than fabric, of which there’s often precious little.  However, on a fortuitously warm and not too windy September day during the Venice Film Festival, two Italian models proved the naked look could be combined with voluminous folds; it was all in the cut.  For the reasons discussed, the dresses could not be called anything but orchidaceous although the internet had already suggested VVD (visible vag(ina) dress)) which in general was wrong (although the initialism was OK) because correctly the hint was of a visible vulva and on that day in Venice, the models actually wore (that may not be the right word) color-coordinated (ie the same fabric as the dresses) adhesive micro-knickers, held in place with a skin-friendly surgical glue.  In a nice touch, their appearance came during the festival’s premiere of The Young Pope (the first time a television production had been included in the program).

Greenhouse

Greenhouse (pronounced green-hous)

(1) A structure usually with a skeletal frame supporting panes of glass, Perspex or other translucent materials in which conditions such as temperature, humidity and irrigation are maintained within a desired range, used for cultivating delicate plants or growing plants out of season.

(2) In UK military slang, the clear material of an aircraft’s cockpit (now rare).

(3) In automotive design, the glass (and Perspex) between the beltline and roofline (also called the "glasshouse").

(4) In surgical medicine, a structure shielding an operating table and designed to protect from the transmission of bacteria.

(5) In climatology, as “greenhouse effect”, a description of the general global consequences of the increasing atmospheric concentrations of “greenhouse gases”, notably carbon dioxide (CO₂), methane (CH₄) etc).

(6) In climatology, a hot state in the global climate.

(7) To place (plants) in a greenhouse and (figuratively), to nurture something in some way to promote growth or development.

1655–1665: From the late Middle English greenhouse (house for growing greens), the reference to the vegetables grown (the produce of various colors but much of the foliage was green during the growing process).  The construct was green + house and the form green-house, while now less common, still runs in parallel.  Green was from the Middle English grene, from the Old English grēne, from the Proto-West Germanic grōnī, from the Proto-Germanic grōniz, from the primitive Indo-European ghreh (to grow).  The related forms include the North Frisian green, the West Frisian grien, the Dutch groen, the Low German grön, green & greun, the German grün, the Danish & Norwegian Nynorsk grøn, the Swedish grön, the Norwegian Bokmål grønn and the Icelandic grænn.  The noun use to refer to the color developed from the earlier references to vegetables and having “grened”.  House was from the Middle English hous & hus, from the Old English hūs (dwelling, shelter, house), from the Proto-West Germanic hūs, from the Proto-Germanic hūsą (and comparable with the Scots hoose, the West Frisian hûs, the Dutch huis, the German Haus, the German Low German Huus, the Danish hus, the Faroese hús, the Icelandic hús, the Norwegian Bokmål hus, the Norwegian Nynorsk hus & Swedish hus).  The Germanic forms may have been from the primitive Indo-European skews & kews-, from skewh & kewh- (to cover, to hide).  The word supplanted the non-native Middle English meson & measoun (house), from the Old French maison (house).  The now rare (and effectively probable extinct) plural housen was from the Middle English husen & housen.  In the Old English the nominative plural was hūs.  Greenhouse is a noun & verb and greenhousing & greenhoused are verbs; the noun plural is greenhouses.

Greenhouse: The Orchid House, Kew Gardens.

As structures used to create artificial, environments, optimized for the cultivation of plants, greenhouse has several synonyms.  The earlier noun conservatory dates from the 1560s in the sense of “a preservative”, a development of the adjectival use (having the quality of preserving), from the Latin conservator (keeper, preserver, defender), an agent noun from conservare.  The meaning “a place for preserving or carefully keeping anything” emerged in the 1610s and when used for the growing of flowers & vegetables, such structures came in the 1650s be called greenhouses.  In English, the formal use in musical education as “a school of music; a place for the performing arts” dates from 1805, from the Italian conservatorio or the French conservatoire (places of public instruction and training in some branch of science or the arts, especially music), from the Medieval Latin conservatorium.  The first places so described were Italian and the word came into use in France after the Revolution (1789); the Italian word was used in English after 1771.  Among gardeners and horticulturalists, by the mid-nineteenth century earthier terms such as “planthouse” and “hothouse” were in use, even in places of serious scientific study such as London’s Kew Gardens (the Royal Botanic Gardens) which, for practical reasons, adopted for various greenhouses pragmatic descriptions such as “Palm House”, “Orchid House” etc.

Lindsay Lohan with a pair of ratchet loppers, pruning cuttings for the potting shed, May 2015.

A twentieth century coining was the “poly house”, an allusion to the use of thick, translucent polythene which in the 1930s, supplied at low cost in rolls by the US petrochemical industry, was instant popular, enabling greenhouses to be built quickly and cheaply.  The related “poly tunnel” & “poly-tube” described the use of the same material to produce even smaller micro-environments with the fabrication of long, “roofs” (semi-circular with the appearance of a tube although without a base) which covered the rows of plants; depending on the crop, such structures could be only a few inches high.  There was also the “potting shed” which was different in that it wasn’t a place with any form of climate control and simply a place a gardener (professional or amateur) could work with their tools, pots etc falling conveniently to hand.  “Potting shed” however has been a “loaded” euphemism and metonym since the publication of DH Lawrence’s (1885–1930) Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928) which wasn’t generally available in the UK until 1961 when R v Penguin Books was decided.  That was a test case of recent legislative amendments in which a jury found the novel satisfied the new provision that the work was “in the interests of science, literature, art or learning, or of other objects of general concern”.  According to some (and they still exist in the Conservative Party), society has since been in decline.  In the novel, more was fertilized in the potting shed than the plants.

August 1912: By the time reports about global warming appeared in the popular press, understandings of the basics of human-induced climate change had been understood for almost a century.

Most reputable sources define the greenhouse effect (on Earth and other heavenly bodies) as something like: “The radiative effect of all infrared absorbing constituents in the atmosphere”.  The operation of the greenhouse effect is not unique to the Earth of the post-industrial revolution but what makes it historically unusual is (1) the rapidity of the increase in atmospheric greenhouse gases (GHGs) and (2) that so much of the increase is due to human activity (mostly the burning of fossil fuels).  In the early nineteenth century, French scientists had published papers describing what would later come to be known as the greenhouse effect, deconstructing the consequences of differing compositions in the Earth’s atmosphere and it was a Swedish meteorologist who first applied the term “greenhouse”, an example of the use of a term the general population would find more accessible than the sometime arcane language of science.  The term “greenhouse seems first to have appeared in print in 1937 but for decades, perception of the phenomenon as a problem was restricted to a handful of specialists and even in the scientific community there were many who viewed it as something benign or even beneficial, there being an awareness a rising temperature would make more of the planet habitable and the increasing volume of CO₂ would encourage plant growth, thus benefiting agriculture.  At the time, climate science was in its infancy, satellites and the big computers needed to model the climate system were decades away and the data on which to develop theories simply didn’t exist.  Additionally, it wasn’t until well into the second half of the century those emissions began radically to increase, the assumptions long that any possible problems probably wouldn’t emerge for centuries.

A chilly looking Greta Thunberg (b 2003), during School Strike for Change, protesting against global warming outside the Swedish Parliament, November 2018.  On 3 January 2024, the world's most famous weather forecaster turned 21.

So “greenhouse effect” never really worked as a term successfully to convey the degree of seriousness the issue deserved.  Accordingly, academics, the activist communities and sympathetic journalists began in the late 1970s to use other words but “global warming” although accurate, really wasn’t much of an improvement because “warm” is a generally “positive” word, used to covey the idea of “kindness, friendliness or affection” and while many people probably thought their climate was already hot enough, more (especially those in the “global north”) would probably have welcomed generally warmer weather.  So that didn’t gain the necessary traction and by the early 1990s, “climate change” began to be used interchangeably with “global warming”, the old “greenhouse effect” by now abandoned.  The scientific rationale for this was that in the narrow technical sense, global warming describes only increased surface warming, while climate change describes the totality of changes to Earth's climate system.  However, until well into the twenty-first century, for most of the population in the First World, what in retrospect have come to be understood as manifestations of climate change, things were hardly obvious.  By the 2020s, the linguistic implications in messaging seemed finally understood and “climate crisis”, “climate emergency” and “climate catastrophe” became the preferred terms and while the “climate change deniers” seem now less numerous (at least some perhaps having perished from heat stroke or drowned in one of the “once in 500 year floods” which seem now frequent).  In the political discourse, "climate crisis" and "global heating" seem now the popular forms. 

The Automotive Greenhouse

1970 Series 2 Fiat 124 Coupé (left) and 2022 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 1LE (right).

The Fiat and Chevrolet represent two approaches to the coupé greenhouse (styled also as the "glasshouse") and both attracted some comment from critics, the Fiat because it was judged around an inch (25 mm) too high to achieve aesthetic success and the Chevrolet because it was too low (the estimates of by how much varied).  The Italian car however was much admired and enjoyed strong demand for most of its life (1967-1975 and given what followed the end of production was probably premature), and at least some of the success was attributable to the comfortable cabin with its generous headspace and the greenhouse which provided outstanding visibility in all directions, an important aspect of what was coming to be understood as “passive safety” (as opposed to “active safety” elements such as seat-belts or crumple-zones).  The low roof-line on the Chevrolet was thought by some to give the car a “cartoonish” quality although it’s a subjective judgment whether that detracted from the look and certainly it lent the thing a low-slung, sporty appearance which was after all presumably what most appealed to the target market.  The practical drawback was the abbreviated greenhouse meant a dark cabin and some compromise in the ease of ingress & egress although descriptions suggesting the space was “claustrophobic” or “oppressive” seem hyperbolic.  As a retro take on the original Camaro (1967-1969), the fifth (2010-2015) & sixth (2016-2024) generation models were well executed although greenhouse and other details unsettled some.  Ms Thunberg approves of neither although, depending on how one deconstructs the numbers, it's debatable which contributes more to the climate crisis.

Standard and Spezial coachwork on the Mercedes-Benz 300d (W189, 1957-1962).  The "standard" four-door hardtop was available throughout the run while the four-door Cabriolet D was offered (off and on) between 1958-1962 and the Spezials (landaulets, high-roofs etc), most of which were for state or diplomatic use, were made on a separate assembly line in 1960-1961.  The standard greenhouse cars are to the left, those with the high roof-line to the right.

The 300d (W189, 1957-1962) was a revised version of the W186 (300, 300b & 300c; 1951-1957) which came to be referred to as the "Adenauer" because several were used as state cars by Konrad Adenauer (1876–1967; chancellor of the FRG (West Germany) 1949-1963).  Although the coachwork never exactly embraced the lines of mid-century modernism, the integration of the lines of the 1950s with the pre-war motifs appealed to the target market (commerce, diplomacy and the old & rich) and on the platform the factory built various Spezials including long wheelbase "pullmans", landaulets, high-roof limousines and four-door cabriolets (Cabriolet D in the Daimler-Benz system).  The high roofline appeared sometimes on both the closed & open cars and even then, years before the assassination of John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963), the greenhouse sometimes featured “bullet-proof” glass.  As well as Chancellor Adenauer, the 300d is remembered also as the Popemobile (although not then labelled as such) of John XXIII (1881-1963; pope 1958-1963).

Two from the Daimler-Benz Spezial line: The 1965 Papal Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100) Landaulet (left) built for Pope Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) (left) and the one-off short wheelbase (SWB) 600 Landaulet (right) built for racing driver Graf von Berckheim (Count Graf Philipp-Constantin Eduard Siegmund Clemens Tassilo Tobias von Berckheim, 1924-1984).

The Papal 600 used the higher roof-line which was a feature of some of the Spezial Pullmans & Pullman Landaulets.  The attractions of the high-roof coachwork was (1) greater headroom which afforded more convenient ingress & egress (a practical matter given the cars were sometime parade vehicles used by royalty and military dictators, both classes given to wearing crowns or big hats) and (2) the extended greenhouse made it easier for crowds to see the occupants.  Count von Berckheim's car used the standard roof-line and was the only SWB Landaulet, the other 59 all built on the LWB Pullman platform.