Dubiety

Dubiety (pronounced doo-bahy-i-tee or dyoo-bahy-i-tee)

(1) Doubtfulness; doubt; the state of being doubtful.

(2) A matter of doubt; a doubtful matter; a particular instance of doubt or uncertainty.

1740s: From the Late Latin dubietās (doubt; uncertainty), a dissimilation of dubiitās, the construct being dubi(us)  (vacillating, fluctuating (and figuratively “wavering in opinion, doubting”) + -etās  (the noun suffix, a variant of -itās (after vocalic stems)).  The earlier form dubiosity was in use by the 1640s and dubiousness had emerged within a decade; for whatever reason, “dubiety” declined while “dubious” flourished and endures to this day.  Dubiety, dubitation, dubiosity & dubitability are nouns, dubitable is an adjective and dubitably is an adverb; the noun plural is dubieties.

Dubiety is one of those words which has become vanishingly rare while its antonym forms (indubitably, indubitable, indubitability, indubitableness, indubitability, indubitation, indubiosity) meaning “clearly true; providing no possibility of doubt; In a manner that leaves no possibility of doubt; undoubtedly) has survived in a niche, that being a deliberately humorous interjection (although used unwisely, it tends to be thought pretentious).  The most common form is the adverb “indubitably” a word in use since the early seventeenth century.  It differs from other jocular coinings in that it was wholly organic, unlike “combobulate” and “gruntle” which were respectively nineteenth & twentieth century back-formations from discombobulate (itself fanciful) & disgruntled (although “gruntle” had a long history in another context). 

Henry Fowler’s list of working & stylish words.

The synonyms of dubiety include “scepticism, mistrust, distrust & suspicion”, all in common use and all vested with the helpful virtue of being understood buy most, a quality not enjoyed by dubiety.  Still, the word in there to be used and it adds variety so all who put themselves through reading literary novels might meet it.  So those after a certain style might find it handy but not all are amused by such stylishness.  The stern Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) included an entry which listed examples of “working & stylish words” which opened with the passage: “No one, unless he has happened upon this article at a very early stage of his acquaintance with this book, will suppose that the word “stylish” is meant to be laudatory.”  He went on to say there was a place for such forms “…when they are used in certain senses…” but made it clear that for most purposes the plain, simple “working word” is the better choice.  He offered the example of “deem” which in law has a precise and well understood meaning so is there essential but it’s just an attempt at stylishness if used as a substitute for “think”.  Other victims of his disapproving eye included “viable” which he judged quite proper in the papers of biologists describing newly formed organisms but otherwise a clumsy way of trying to assert something was “practicable” and “dwell” & “perchance” which appeared usually as “…conspicuous, like and escaped canary among the sparrows.”  Henry Fowler liked stylish phrases but preferred plain words.

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

Fowler completed his text by 1925 and things have since changed, some of the “stylish” cohort seemingly having become “working” words, possibly under the influence of the use in computing and other technologies, their once specialized sense migrating into general use because the language of those industries became so common.  Although he did twenty years before the first appeared, one suspects he’d not have found Ferraris “stylish” and would probably have called them “flashy” (in the sense of “vulgar ostentation” rather than “sparkling or brilliant”); dating from the mid sixteenth century, “flashy” would seem to have a suitably venerable lineage.

Fuselage

Fuselage pronounced fyoo-suh-lahzh, fyoo-suh-lij, fyoo-zuh-lahzh or fyoo-suh-lahzh)

(1) In aeronautical design, the complete central structure of an airplane, to which are attached the wings (or rotors), tail and other stabilizing fins or surfaces (engines sometimes also directly attached or enclosed).  It is inside the fuselage where the crew, passengers, cargo and most internals systems are located.

(2) In design, a style which borrows from or alludes to the elements used in aircraft fuselages.

(3) By extension, the main body of an aerospace vehicle

1909 (In English): From the French fuselage, the construct being fusel(é) (spindle-shaped), from fuseler (to shape like a spindle), from the Old French fus or fuseau (spindle), from the Latin fusus (spindle) + -age.  The French suffix -age was from the Middle & Old French -age, from the Latin -āticum, (greatly) extended from words like rivage and voyage.  It was used usually to form nouns with the sense of (1) "action or result of Xing" or (more rarely), "action related to X" or (2) "state of being (a or an) X".  A less common use was the formation of collective nouns.  Historically, there were many applications (family relationships, locations et al) but use has long tended to be restricted to the sense of "action of Xing".  Many older terms now have little to no connection with their most common modern uses, something particularly notable of those descended from actual Latin words (fromage, voyage et al).  In English, the suffix -age was from the Middle English -age, from the Old French -age, from the Latin -āticum.  Cognates include the French -age, the Italian -aggio, the Portuguese -agem, the Spanish -aje & Romanian -aj.  It was used to form nouns (1) with the sense of collection or appurtenance, (2) indicating a process, action, or a result, (3) of a state or relationship, (4) indicating a place, (5) indicating a charge, toll, or fee, (6) indicating a rate & (7) of a unit of measure.  Fuselage is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is fuselages.

Many languages also borrowed fuselage but there were sometimes variations in spelling including in Catalan (fuselatge), Portuguese (fuselagem), Spanish (fuselaje), Russian (fjuzeljáž (фюзеля́ж)), Kazakh (füzeläj (фюзеляж)) and Ukrainian (fjuzeljáž (фюзеля́ж)).  It’s not clear when “fuselage” was first used in English, the earliest known reference dating from 1909 but it’s not improbable the word had earlier been in oral use.  The alternative was presumably “hull” (the body or frame of shop, boat or other such vessel).  Hull was from the Middle English hul, hulle & holle (seed covering, hull of a ship), from the Old English hulu (seed covering), from the Proto-Germanic hul- (and related to the Dutch hul (hood) and the German Hülle & Hülse (cover, veil)), and may have been from either the primitive Indo-European forms ḱel- (to cover, hide) or kal- (hard).  Hull came into wide use in aircraft design when “flying boats” were developed.

Flying boats: Short S.25 Sunderland (1938-1946) (left) and Dornier Do X (1929-1932) (right). 

Most aeroplanes have fuselages; flying boats have hulls, a tribute to the nautical part of their hybrid origin.  Commercially, flying boats were widely used during the inter-war years because of their range and, needing only a suitable body of water (sea, lake, river), their ability to operate in regions without suitable aerodromes.  A vital military machine during World War II (1939-1945), the advances in aircraft design during that conflict, coupled with the proliferation of airstrip construction able to be re-purposed for civil use doomed them for all but some specialist uses.  Quickly they almost vanished from European and (most) North American skies and waterways, enduring in the Far East only until infrastructure there too was improved.

The fuselage can be optional: Dunne D.5 (1908) (left), Northrop YB-49 prototype (1947) (centre) and Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit (1989) (right).

In the early days of aviation, before even an airplane had flown the English Channel, designers had been intrigued when their slide-rule calculations suggested the optimal shape of a flying machine was a "flying wing" with no conventional fuselage and certainly no tail-plane apparatus.  Tests of scale models in primitive wind tunnels proved the math was substantially correct and proof of concept tests using an unpowered glider proved inconclusive, it being clear only a powered flight would demonstrate if such a design could achieve stable flight.  When tested, the designer admitted an early, under-powered, version was "more a hopper than a flyer" but when fitted with more powerful engines, the "flying wings" proved remarkably stable.  However, more conventional designs proved more suitable for military use and that, increasingly was where the source of funding was to be found.  Despite that, the idea continued to fascinate designers and a flying wing was one of the extraordinary range of experimental aircraft under development in Nazi Germany during World War II, most of which never made any contribution to the Luftwaffe's war effort.  In the US, Northrop built both propeller and jet-powered prototypes in the 1940s and after early difficulties, a stable platform emerged although, like most designs, it both offered advantages and imposed restrictions but the whole project was cancelled; ever since some have argued this was due to political influence while others claim the flaws in the concept were so fundamental they couldn't be fixed.  The Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit (in service with the US Air Force (USAF) until at least 2034) is a modified version of a flying wing in that its really a variation of a delta with an integrated fuselage.

Ascending the stairs: Lindsay Lohan entering a fuselage, Mykonos, Greece, August 2016.

In the early days of aviation during the twentieth century’s first decade, French engineers and inventors were the most innovative on the planet and this is reflected in the world-wide adoption of many French terms for some of the bits and pieces which continue to be used.  English, rarely inclined to create a new word if there was a manageable one in some other language which could be absorbed (“borrowed” still the term etymologists, strangely perhaps, prefer) and the French words which formed the basis of the early lexicon of aviation are a particular example of technological determinism in language.  Other orthodox terms in aviation include:

Aileron: A hinged flight-control surface usually attached to the trailing edge of each wing and used to change the roll (ie cause fuselage to begin rotation).  Although the word “flaps” is commonly used of ailerons, the flaps are usually positioned closer to the fuselage and are used to increase or reduce lift & drag.  The flap-like devices mounted on the trailing edges of the vertical stabilizers (somewhere in the tail-section) are properly called “elevators”.  Aileron was a diminutive of aile (wing) and before powered flight (flying machines) had been used in ornithology to refer to the extremities of a bird's wings used to control their flight.  There is an entry in a French-English dictionary dating from 1877 (with the lead meaning: “small wing”) and in the context of the language of aviation, the earliest known use in entry in French technical literature is from 1908.

Empennage: The tail assembly of an aircraft, including the horizontal and vertical stabilizers, elevators, and rudder. Empennage was from the French empenner (to feather an arrow).

Chassis: This was the original term used in English to describe the framework of an aircraft but soon was replaced by "frame, structure etc"), presumably because of the association with the heavy steel constructions used in cars and trucks, things far removed from the lightweight designs needed in the air.  Chassis was from the French chassis (frame, supporting structure), from châsse (reliquary; coffin), from the Latin capsa (case).

Concours d'Elegance: Not strictly an aviation term and most associated with affairs like those in Pebble Beach where rows of vintage Bentleys, Ferraris and such (the latter always in a much better state of finish than when they left the factory) are judged for their closeness to perfection.  Although not strictly a term from aviation, there are such events for old aircraft.  Concours d'Elegance was from the French concours d'élégance (competition of elegance).

Pilot: Pilot was from the Middle French pilot & pillot, from the Italian pilota & piloto, (pedotta, pedot & pedotto the older forms), the pil- element probably influenced by pileggiare (to sail, navigate), ultimately from the unattested Byzantine Greek *πηδώτης (pēdṓtēs) (helmsman), from the Ancient Greek πηδόν (pēdón) (blade of an oar, oar) (the the Ancient and Modern Greek πηδάλιον (pēdálion) (rudder).  Familiar from nautical use, pilot was a straight borrowing for the person fulfilling the same function in the air.  The construct of pilotage was pilot + -age.

Canard: A type of aircraft configuration where the tail-plane is ahead of the main lifting surfaces.  In aviation, a canard is either (1) a type of aircraft in which the primary horizontal control and stabilization surfaces are in front of the main wing or (2) a horizontal control and stabilization surface located in front of the main wing of an aircraft (a fore-plane).  In just about any form of engineering involving movement and fluid dynamics (air, plasma, water etc), a canard is a small, wing-like structure used usually as a stabilizing device.  Canard was from the French canard (duck, hoax) and in English as “a canard”, is still used in that sense to mean “a false or misleading report or story, especially if deliberately so”.

The Fuselage Chryslers, 1968-1973

1969 Imperial LeBaron, four-door hardtop.

The “fuselage” Chryslers were released late in 1968 for the 1969 model year and, as a class, remain the largest regular production cars ever made by the US industry.  In the catalogue between 1968-1973, by the end of their run the Imperial was built on a 127 inch (3226 mm) wheelbase, was 235 ½ (5981 mm) inches in length and almost 80 (2022 mm) inches in width.  Big cars from Detroit were not uncommon in the 1960s (Buick in 1959 even naming their top-of-the-range model the Electra 225, a tribute to its 225 inch (5715 mm) length) but even by those standards the fuselage cars not only were vast but the bulbous shape (source of the “fuselage” tag) made them appear more excessive still; it wasn’t only for the big Chryslers the derisive “land yacht” was coined but the line exemplified the idea.  In fairness, the trend generally was “longer, heavier & fatter”, even once compact (by US standards) and agile machines like Ford’s Mustang and Thunderbird bloating with each update although the manufacturers were aware there was considerable public demand for something smaller and by the late 1960s, those in the pipelines were well-advanced.  However, demand for the full-sized cars remained strong and Chrysler decided their lines should be more full-sized than ever, thus the fuselage design.  There was at the time a bit of an aeronautical influence about and that was nothing new, jet aircraft and space rockets during the previous two decades having contributed many of the motifs which appeared on US cars.  During the development cycle for the fuselage cars, Chrysler were well-acquainted with the appearance of the Boeing 747, sketches circulating for some three years before its first public appearance in September 1968, coincidently just days after the Chrysler’s debuted.  In its appearance, the bulging 747 was the same sort of departure from the earlier, slender 707 as the 1969 Chryslers were from their rectilinear predecessors.

1969 Chrysler 300 advertising.  In graphics & text, the "fuselage" motif was integral to the promotion; it was no mere nickname. 

In some ways the styling has aged surprisingly well because the basic lines are uncluttered and, particularly on the higher priced editions, there was some nice detailing but at the time, critics found the look peculiar and a deviance from the direction other manufacturers were travelling.  The sides were unusually deep and rounded (recalling, obviously, an airplane’s fuselage) with a beltline so high the glasshouse (the cabin area defined by the windows) was relatively shallow, something accentuated by the surrounding bulk.  The corporation’s full-sized platform (internally the “C-Body”), it was shared by the Plymouth, Dodge, Chrysler and Imperial lines, the latter a surprise to some because since 1955 when it had been established as a separate division, the Imperial had been built on a unique platform.  However, despite some encouraging results in the 1950s, Imperial never achieved the volume which would have justified another unique platform so the line was merged into mainstream development.

1969 Imperial LeBaron advertising.  The "messaging" in this advertisement remains obscure.

The debut season saw good sales for the fuselage cars (though still more than 10% down on the previous C-Body (1965-1968)) but demand dropped precipitously in the next three years although sales were in buoyant in 1973 when many manufacturers set records; it was the last good year for the “old” American economy and the swansong of the long post-war boom built on cheap, limitless energy and the uniquely advantageous position the country enjoyed after the war; something squandered by the mistakes of more than one administration.  It was certainly unfortunate timing for Chrysler that the first oil crisis should hit just weeks after they had replaced the fuselage cars with something mechanically similar but with clever styling tricks (even the engineers admitted it was “nips & tucks; smoke & mirrors”), something dimensionally similar appeared both smaller and more modern.  Underneath, as the fuselage line had been, was essentially a good product, Chrysler’s basic engineering always good and while the big machines would never behave like a Lotus Elan, on the road they were competent and in most aspects as good as or better than the competition.

The last of Harry S Truman's (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953) many cars was a 1972 Chrysler Newport, the entry-level model in Chrysler's Fuselage range (some Plymouth & Dodge models were cheaper still).  Purchased some six months before his death, the licence plate (5745) was a special request, a reference to 7 May, 1945 (VE Day (Victory in Europe).  Truman was in office on that day and the plate has since permanently been retired.

The first oil shock hit demand for the 1974 cars and the timing was bad for all points in the production and distribution chain.  Noting the favourable reviews, dealers had ordered large stocks to meet the expected demand but the Arab Oil Embargo meant sales of big cars collapsed and the Chryslers, with V8 engines between 318-440 cubic inches (5.2-7.2 litres) were as thirsty as any of their ilk and supplies of cars expected to be sold in days languished on dealer’s lots for months.  In response, Chrysler shut down two manufacturing plants while trying to increase production or imports of small, fuel-efficient vehicles.  Sales of the big cars in 1974 were barely half those of the previous year and the breakdown of those was a harbinger for the whole industry, the numbers disproportionately slanted towards the higher-priced lines, the entry-level models attracting interest mostly from fleet operators and law enforcement.  The days of the low-cost big sedans which appealed to those like Harry Truman who liked the virtues without the ostentation, were over.

1978 Chrysler New Yorker advertising.  Still obviously bulky, the 1974-1978 re-style toned down the fuselage look although the interiors in tufted leather or velor became increasingly baroque.  Publications like Road & Track (R&T) where the writers disapproved of anything so big (they thought everyone should drive a Lancia) sneered at the extravagant fit-out, dismissing it as "gingerbread" but it was a luxurious and isolating environment.  There were still many who liked that sort of thing, none of whom maintained subscriptions to R&T.

So the writing was on the wall and even by 1977 when the oil crisis faded from memory and it seemed buyers were ready again to buy big, Chrysler was left with its now 1974 range while press and public fawned over General Motors’ (GM) newly slimmed-down, taut looking, full-size cars, the style and dimensions of which were so obviously the future.  Tellingly, while radically reduced in weight and external measurements, on the inside, they were in most places as capacious as both their predecessors and the now antique Chryslers which were still just an update of the 1969 fuselage range.  With the coming of 1976, the corporation had accepted the inevitable and axed the Imperial brand, Chrysler's top-of-the-range New Yorker tarted-up with left-over Imperial trim to become the new flagship.  The end was close and in 1978 it came, that the last year of the big Chryslers released with such high expectations a decade before and when the line was retired, it took with it the once popular four-door hardtop body-style, other manufacturers having already retired their models.  Shockingly inefficient though they are, the few surviving land yachts have a small but devoted following who appreciate what remains a unique driving experience (one as enjoyable as a passenger) and it's unlikely anything like them will ever be built again.

Ostentation

Ostentation (pronounced os-ten-tey-shuhn or os-ten-tey-tuhn)

(1) Pretentious or conspicuous show, as of wealth or importance; display intended to impress others or invite admiration or applause.

(2) The act of showing or exhibiting; a display for some purpose (archaic).

(3) A collective noun for a number of peacocks.

1425–1475:  From the late Middle English ostentacioun (ambitious display, pretentious show, display intended to evoke admiration or attract attention), from the mid-fourteenth century Middle French ostentation, from the Old French ostentacion, from the Classical Latin ostentātiōnem (nominative ostentātiō) (showing, exhibition, vain display), past participle of ostentāre (to present, display or exhibit), the construct being ostentat(ionem) + ion.  The –ion suffix was from the Middle English -ioun, from the Old French -ion, from the Latin -iō (genitive -iōnis).  It was appended to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the result of an action or process.  The adjective ostentatious in the sense of “characterized by display or show from vanity or pride” was in use by the turn of the eighteenth century while the more familiar meaning “showy, gaudy, intended for vain display” emerged probably within a decade.  In sixteenth & seventeenth century English there were the now extinct forms ostentative, ostentive & ostentous while the adverb ostentatiously and the noun ostentatiousness both appear in texts from the 1650s.  Ostentation & ostentatiousness are nouns, ostentatious is an adjective and ostentatiously is an adverb; the noun plural is ostentations.  The adjective unostentatious is almost always used as a compliment.

The origins of the meaning of the adjectives ostensive & ostensible (neither directly associated with ostentation’s sense of “showy, flamboyant etc”) lie in the now archaic meaning of ostentation as “an act of showing or exhibiting; a display for some purpose”.  Ostensive (apparently true, but not necessarily; clearly demonstrative) was from the French ostensif, from the Medieval Latin ostensivus.  Ostensible (apparent, evident; meant for open display; appearing as such; being such in appearance; professed, supposed (rather than demonstrably true or real)) was from the French ostensible, the construct being the Latin ostens(us), the past participle of ostendō (show) + -ible.  The suffix –ible was from the Middle English, from the Old French, from the Latin –ibilis (the alternative forms were –bilis & -abilis.  An adjectival suffix, now usually in a passive sense, it was used to form adjectives meaning "able to be", "relevant or suitable to, in accordance with", or expressing capacity or worthiness in a passive sense.  The suffix -able is used in the same sense and is pronounced the same and –ible is generally not productive in English, most words ending in -ible being those borrowed from Latin, or Old & Middle French; -able much more productive although examples like collectible do exist.  The other form in the Medieval Latin was ostensibilis.

An ostentation of peacocks.

The collective noun for peacocks (male), peahens (female) & peachicks (the offspring) is “pride”, “ostentation” or “muster”.  All these can also be used of just the peacocks but the popular convention seem to be to use “ostentation”, the reason being it so suits the extravagant, colorful plumage.  The females have feathers which blend in with the surroundings, making them less conspicuous, a differentiation which may strike a chord with feminists.

Recently, the reasons for the difference were explained in a helpful piece which was obviously authoritative because it was written by Ms Emily Peacock.  According to Darwinian theory, the large, heavy assembly of tail feathers must confer some evolutionary advantage and in the case of the peacock the colourful array’s purpose must be compelling because zoologists have in the wild noted cases where the train has grown to the extent the weight impedes movement, thereby making the unfortunate bird “vulnerable to predators.”  Ms Peacock explained evolution happened this way because of a particular instance of Darwin’s theory of natural selection: “survival of the sexiest”, the peahen selecting “beautiful males for mating”.  While it’s true the spreading of the tail does create a large surface area with the illusion of large penetrating eyes which can deter potential predators (such as snakes or large wild cats), it’s the appeal to peahens which matters most, the “…more extravagant the fan, the more likely a male will find a mate” and thus continue his gene line.  At the biological level, the point is that rather than being shallow creatures attracted merely to the attractiveness of the display, the peahen uses the peacock's tail feathers as a marker of health and virality, choosing the male with the most obviously strong genes because it means her offspring will be more likely to survive.  

A peacock being ostentatious; a peahen playing hard to get.

The feathers with their array of exotic colors also attract people and as well as their use in fashion (real and stylized), for millennia they have been symbols of wealth and power.  The Peacock Throne (a jewelled creation on which early seventeenth century craftsmen toiled for some six years) was the seat of the emperors of the Mughal Empire in India although the term gained its modern notoriety because of the later association with the Shahs of Persia (Iran after 1935), the object looted by invading Persians in 1739.  Although always popularly known as the “Peacock Throne” because of the prominent use of depictions of the birds in the renderings, there were various official names for the throne, all quite prosaic by comparison.  The appeal continued in modern times, the NBC (National Broadcasting Company) broadcasting network in the US adopting the peacock’s fan for the corporate logo when in 1956 television transmission began in color.  Still used today, the colors allude to the spectrum used in TV broadcasts rather than the bird’s more elegant mix.

Faux ostentation: Lindsay Lohan in fur.  Given that on none of these fur-trimmed outings did Tash Peterson, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) activists or other angry vegans appear from the darkness flinging blood and screaming accusations of murder, it may be assumed she was wearing faux fur.

Like many twentieth century politicians who in their youth served in the military during technologically simpler times and then immersed themselves in the history of pre-modern battle, emerging with a Napoleonic attitude to the business, Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) disapproved of the trend in military personnel establishments to “bottom-heaviness”, noting the ever-growing volume of (usually) non-combatant mechanics, drivers, dentists and such.  He was especially critical at the numbers on the “Q side” (based on the office of Quartermaster, the officer in charge of barracks, stores, supplies and logistics), the legion of clerks, cooks, storemen and others who functions as the cogs in the modern, mechanised military machine.  Although no technophobe (indeed his enthusiasm for new inventions often caused alarm in the high command), Churchill’s view of an army was still colored by memories of knee-to-knee cavalry charges and rows of battalions advancing with fixed bayonets; he was sceptical of the need for the administrative appendage to comprise sometimes nearly half a unit’s establishment.  In his view, the army needed “more fighting men and fewer typists”, complaining to Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke (1883–1963; Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS) 1941-1946) that the British army was “like a peacock, all tail and very little bird”.  Alanbrooke, one of the country’s most prominent bird-watchers (the respectable term now “birder” and the hobby “birding”) wasn’t about to let the ornithological slight pass unanswered and responded: “The peacock would be a very poorly balanced bird without its tail.”  Churchill remained unconvinced but, unlike his opponent in Berlin, didn’t interfere in such operational details.

GM’s advertising for the 1958 Buicks.  So taken was Buick with the grille that unusually, it was given a name: The “Fashion-Aire Dynastar Grille” which contained 160 diecast faceted chrome squares.  The aerospace industry was quite an influence on Detroit during this era and B-58 was an allusion to the naming schemes used for US warplanes, the notion of a B-52 for the road at the time an attractive idea for many buyers.

Before sanity (in shape if not always in size) began to prevail in the 1960s, the trend in post-war car design in the US had been one of increasing ostentation and while it was the 1957 Chrysler line which probably deserves the most blame for starting it, it was the huge resources of the General Motors Technical Center (a billion dollar (in 2024 US$ values) venture in the 1950s) which allowed stylists (they weren’t yet called “designers”) to cast themselves adrift from the moorings of reality imposed by restraint and good taste.  To understand what happened in the late 1950s, one has to imagine some of the more bizarre creations stalking the catwalks of London, Paris, Milan & New York not only appearing in high street shops with affordable price tags but people buying them to wear to the grocery store.  The famous tail-lamps recalling bright red bullets fired from the vertiginous fins of the 1959 Cadillac are the best remembered from the era but in fairness they are nicely detailed and a single point of focus on a design which was, by comparison with some, actually not over-embellished.

1958 Buicks: Special convertible (left) and Roadmaster Limited convertible (right).  The side trim on the 1958 Buicks varied according to their place in the model hierarchy (Special, Super, Century & Roadmaster & Roadmaster Limited (Riviera was a body style designation and a badge as such wasn’t used in 1958)).  It seems a sterile debate to discuss which is the more ostentatious.

The award for the most ostentatious range of those years goes to the 1958 Buicks, the most expensive of which were adorned with just about every motif which could be rendered in chrome or stainless steel, curves, angles and lines horizontal & vertical all competing for the eye.  Infamously, GM’s bulbous 1958 bodies were so obviously dated they were replaced after only one season and while the 1959 models were ostentatious in their own way (exuberant rather than baroque), to this day they have many admirers while the 1958 cars are thought by most something between a period piece and a freak show.  In an issue which afflicted the whole industry, the single platform used by the big three (GM, Ford & Chrysler) for most of their models had become very big (the unique ones used for some exclusive lines bigger still) and all had projects in the pipeline to respond to the increasing sales of smaller imports, programmes which ultimately would yield the highly successful “compact” and “intermediate” ranges.  The influence the existence these smaller cars would have on the appearance of the full-sized lines is often underestimated; their reduced size meant the styling tricks which worked at scale couldn’t be replicated so something simpler had to be used.  This produced bodies which were balanced and attractive, influencing the upcoming full-sized lines even before their release and the big cars from 1958-1961 were (almost) the last of their type; baroque didn’t quite die with the coming of 1962 because Chrysler still had old ideas to re-cycle but that was the last gasp.

Buick’s promotional postcard for the 1958 Buick “Wells Fargo”.

There was then, in 1958, no company with a better base on which to build a distinctive promotional vehicle for a TV network and Buick custom-made one for Dale Robertson (1923–2013), the star of NBC's western adventure series Tales of Wells Fargo (1957-1962).  The unique interior features included bucket seats of Danish calfskin with hand-tooled western motif leather inserts (the door panels matching), a then still quite novel centre console, natural calfskin carpeting and flip up door handles while the exterior was in one way (sort of) toned-down, solid walnut panels replacing the three banks of imitation louvers on both sides.  However, to add to the effect, the words “Wells Fargo” appeared on the panels in large chromed letters and to remind everyone of the “western” theme, a longhorn steer's head was superimposed over the standard hood emblem, flipper wheel-covers completing the package.  The highlight though was the armory, (1) a gun rack holding two chrome-plated Winchester lever-action rifles with carved stocks and (2) hand-tooled leather pistol holsters attached to each door, containing a brace of pearl-handled .38 caliber Colt revolvers.  In the America of Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961), these handy accessories seem to have attracted no critical comment but then, the dawn of the age of mass shootings was almost a decade away.  Proud of their work, Buick’s PR team toured the country, displaying the car at shows before presenting it to Mr Robertson who drove it for the next three decades-odd.  The car still exists and occasionally appears at collector auctions.

Oculus

Oculus (pronounced ok-yuh-luhs)

(1) In anatomy, an eye.

(2) In architecture, a window or other circular (or oval) opening, especially one at the apex of a dome.

(3) In archaeology, a design representing an eye, as on funerary pottery found in megalithic tombs of Europe.

(4) In the mechanical engineering (associated with fluid dynamics), the central boss of a volute.

(5) In poetic and literary use, luminary of the sun and stars; eye of the soul, mind's eye; a spot resembling an eye, such as on a peacock feather; a principle ornament or the main feature of something.

(6) In botany, a bud, bulb or knob on many roots, on the reed etc.

(7) As oculist (plural oculists), one who practices the discipline of oculism (an archaic name for an ophthalmologist or optometrist).

1857: From the Latin oculus (an eye), from the Proto-Italic okwelos, from the primitive Indo-European hsokw (eye; to see).  It was cognate with the Sanskrit अक्षि (ákṣi), the Ancient Greek ὄσσε (ósse), the Gothic augō, the Old English ēaġe (from which Modern English would gain eye) & the Proto-Slavic oko.  Originating in antiquity, it was a widely used feature of Byzantine and Neoclassical architecture, known in French as the œil de boeuf (bull's-eye).  The noun plural is oculi.  An impressively long word with the same root is ocularpneumoplethysmography, a non-invasive technique for detecting carotid stenosis by measurement of ophthalmic artery pressure.  Oculus & oculist are nouns; the noun plural is oculi (under the standard rules of English plural formations, the result would be oculuses by that seems to have been too awful to contemplate). 

The Pantheon

The Pantheon in Rome (from the Latin Pantheum, from the Ancient Greek Πάνθειον (Pantheion) ([temple] of all the gods) was built as a Roman temple and since the 609 has been a Roman Catholic church (Basilica di Santa Maria ad Martyres or Basilica of Saint Mary and the Martyrs).  It was built on the site of an earlier temple constructed during the time of Christ and rebuilt by the Emperor Hadrian circa 126 AD, the actual date uncertain because Hadrian retained the old inscriptions.

Cylindrical with a portico of sixteen staggered Corinthian columns, the dome has a diameter of 43.2m (142 feet) and was for over 1300 years the largest in the world and remains, after some two-thousand years, the largest unreinforced concrete dome, a feat achieved by a gradual reduction in the thickness and weight of the materials used for the upper layers.  Each of the granite columns weigh sixty tons.  Quarried in Egypt, they were dragged 100 km (60 miles), placed on barges and shipped up the Nile to Alexandria where they were transferred to boats to cross the Mediterranean to the port of Ostia.  From there, they were sent by barges, up the Tiber to Rome where they were dragged to the construction site for erection.

The dome was originally covered in bronze and there are reports from travelers of it sparkling in the sunlight, the glint playing on the surrounding skyline.  However during the middle ages most was pilfered, sometimes with official sanction, sometimes not, the shortage of building materials often acute.  The last of it, Pope Urban VIII (Maffeo Barberini, 1568–1644, pope 1623-1644) in 1631, needing ordinance for his military campaigns to expand the borders of the Papal States, stripped what bronze remained as well as that from the portico to melt down for cannons.  Romans, as cynical about their rulers then as now, were soon sharing the saying “quod non fecerunt barbari, fecerunt Barberini” (what was not done by the barbarians, was done by the Barberini).

The ass's ears, circa 1860.

Roman architect and Engineer Marcus Vitruvius Pollio (circa 75-10 BC) wrote the influential De architectura which defined the building and aesthesis standards of Classical architecture and the design of the Pantheon follows his rules, height and width exactly match, meaning a perfect sphere would precisely fit inside the dome.  Vitruvius would not have been best pleased at the additions made in the 1600s by Urban VIII.  Sometimes wrongly blamed on Bernini, pontiff turned amateur architect added two bell towers to the sides of the façade which, although disliked by Romans who nicknamed them le orecchie del culo (the ass’s ears), it wasn’t until late in the nineteen century they were finally demolished.

The Pantheon, Rome.

The oculus in the Pantheon is the most famous of the many built by the Romans.  Open to the weather, it allows rain to enter and fall to the floor, where it is carried away through drains. A masterpiece of Roman architectural scale, though it looks small, the oculus’ diameter is 27 feet (8.2m) allowing it to light the building as the sun lights the earth and rain also keeps the building cool during the hot summer months.  A clever trick of lighting (and mathematics) was played out on every 21 April, the founding date of Rome.  At midday, the sunlight hits the metal grille above the door, filling the entrance way with light, timed to coincide with a ceremony at which the emperor appears in the space, reflecting his status as either an earthly god on one on whom the blessings of the gods shone.  Which of these applied depended on the Emperor.  In style, if not scale, the Pantheon was the inspiration for the Große Halle (Great Hall (and referred to in contemporary documents also as the Volkshalle (People's Hall or Ruhmeshalle (Hall of Glory)) which was to be the centrepiece of Germania as Berlin was to be re-named upon becoming the capital of the Third Reich.

Albert Speer's (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) post-war memoirs (1969) are not wholly truthful but on matters of architecture they are thought reliable and provide an insight not only into the grandiose plans but also the political and psychological aspects of representational buildings to which Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) attached such importance.  The monumental size alone was significant and despite Hitler being scornful of the mystical notions of some of his paladins, Speer was convinced that inherent in the awe-inspiring scale of the designs was the idea of them becoming places of worship, something which would be reinforced as they aged, unchanged, over the centuries.  Able to accommodate 150-180,000 people, the dome would have had a diameter of 250 metres (825 feet). rising in a slightly parabolic curve to a height of 221 metres (726 feet) while the oculus would be 46 metres (152 feet) in diameter, larger than the entire dome of either the Pantheon (43 metres (142 feet)) or that of St Peter's Basilica (44 metres (145 feet)).  The interior would be 16 times the volume of St Peter's.

Model of the Great Hall intended for Germania.

Speer also noted that even in the late 1930s when first he showed the architectural drawings to Hitler, the Führer suspended belief in facts when it suited him.  Because it was technically possible, Speer originally envisaged building the dome without the use of any structural steel but Hitler objected that were it to be struck by a bomb, the vaulting might be so damaged that without a supporting framework, repairs would be impossible.  Speer conceded the point but when he had questioned whether it was wise to have so tall a structure build in the very heart of the Reich's capital where it would act as a navigational aid for attacking bombers, Hitler breezily replied that Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) had assured him his Luftwaffe would ensure "no enemy plane will ever enter Germany's skies".  Infamously, the Reichsmarschall would boast to the German people: "If as much as a single enemy aircraft flies over German soil, my name is Meier!"; the Royal Air Force's (RAF) bombing raids on Berlin soon began.

Lindsay Lohan with peacock feathers. during blonde phase.

The eye-like feature on a peacock's tail-feathers are called an oculus and because the collective noun for a group of peacocks (peafowl) is "an ostentation" so these several could be styled "an ostentation of oculi".  This photograph is available as a 2024 calendar.                   

Vanity

Vanity (pronounced van-i-tee)

(1) An excessive pride in one's appearance, qualities, abilities, achievements, etc; character or quality of being vain; conceit.

(2) An instance or display of this quality or feeling.

(3) Something about which one is vain or excessively proud.

(4) Lack of real value; hollowness; worthlessness.

(5) Something worthless, trivial, or pointless.

(6) A small case, usually used for make-up items.

(7) A usually small dressing table used to apply makeup, preen, and coif hair. Normally quite low and similar to a desk, with drawers and one or more mirrors on top.  Often paired with a bench or stool to sit upon.

(8) A type of bathroom fitting, usually a permanently-fixed storage unit including one or more washbasins.

(9) An alternative name for a portfolio maintained as a showcase for one's own talents, especially as a writer, actor, singer, composer or model.

(10) Any idea, theory or statement entirely without foundation (UK only, now obsolete).

1200-1250: From Middle English vanite, borrowed from Old French vanité (self-conceit; futility; lack of resolve) derived from the Classical Latin vānitās (emptiness, aimlessness; falsity (and when used figuratively "vainglory, foolish pride”), root of which was vānus (empty, void (and when used figuratively "idle, fruitless”).  A more precise equivalent in Latin was probably vanitatem (emptiness, foolish pride).  Root was the primitive Indo-European wano-, the suffixed form of the root eue- (to leave, abandon, give out).  English also absorbed many synonyms and related words: egotism, complacency, vainglory, ostentation, pride, emptiness, sham, unreality, folly, triviality, futility.  Except in religious texts, the old meaning (that which is vain, futile, or worthless) faded from general use, the modern meaning (self-conceited), which endures to this day, is attested from the mid-fourteenth century.  The first reference to furniture was the vanity table, dating from 1936, a use adopted by manufacturers of bathroom fittings in the later post-war period.  The first vanity table seem to have been advertised in 1936.

The Old Testament

Vanity of vanities, said the preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity. (Ecclesiastes 1:2)

The word translated as vanity appears 37 times in Ecclesiastes, more than in the entirety of the rest of the Old Testament so is clearly a theme of the text.  The meaning of vanity is used here in its original form of something that is transitory and quickly passes away.  In that it’s a literal translation of the Hebrew hebel, best understood in this context as meaning breath of wind, something which, whatever its immediate effects, is soon gone.  Unfortunately for nihilists, emos and other depressives trawling texts for anything confirming the pointlessness of life, biblical scholars agree the phrase is not an assertion that life is meaningless or that our labors in this fallen world are ultimately useless.  Instead, it’s a saying to help people put their lives in the proper perspective.  Ecclesiastes is not saying all our efforts are worthless, just observing that all we do in our three score and ten years upon this earth is but a brief prelude to our eternal existence and much of life escapes our understanding, for we cannot comprehend how everything fits into the grand story of creation.

All very poetic but, perhaps sadly, improbable.  It’s more likely the universe is a violent, doomed, swirl of matter and energy, life is pointless, right or wrong are just variable constructs, everything is meaningless and all any can hope for is a fleetingly brief false consciousness which might make us feel happy.

Vanity Fair

Published in 1678, John Bunyan’s (1628–1688) The Pilgrim's Progress is an allegory of the Christian’s spiritual journey through the sins and temptations of earthly existence to the salvation of the Kingdom of Heaven; a symbolic vision of an English worthy’s pilgrimage through life.  In the village of Vanity is a perpetual fair, selling all things to satisfy all desires and Vanity Fair represents the sin of man’s attachment to and lust for transient worldly goods, a critique echoed later in secular criticisms of materialism.

Novelist William Makepeace Thackeray (1811–1863), although making no mention of Bunyan or his work when he published Vanity Fair in 1848, could rely on his readers being well acquainted with the symbolism of the earlier allegory.  By the mid-nineteenth century when Thackeray’s portrait of British society was published, the term had become laden too with secular and class-conscious meanings, suggesting the imagery both of self-indulgent playground and the sense of that stratum of society where the only habitué are the idle and undeserving rich.  Thackeray explored both.

Lindsay Lohan. Vanity Fair Italia, August 2011

Over the years, on both sides of the Atlantic, a number of periodicals have used the masthead Vanity Fair.  The current one has its roots in Condé Nast’s purchase in 1913 of a men's fashion journal called Dress, and Vanity Fair, a magazine devoted to performing arts with an emphasis on theatre.  After a brief, unsatisfactory foray as the combined title Dress and Vanity Fair, in 1914 he re-launched as Vanity Fair and success was immediate, continuing even until well into the depression years of the 1930s.  Curiously different to the vicissitudes of the digital age, although revenue from advertising had collapsed, by the time Condé Nast in 1936 folded Vanity Fair into his companion title Vogue, circulation had reached an all-time high.  The problem was the cover price of an issue wasn’t sufficient profitably to cover production and distribution costs; advertising was essential.  In a situation familiar to newspaper publishers in their halcyon days, it wasn’t advantageous to achieve higher sales.

Condé Nast Publications revived the title, February 1983 the first issue.  Like most print publications, its advertising revenue has declined but, critically in this market, so have newsstand sales.  Its subscriber base is said to be stable but Condé Nast doesn’t release data indicating the breakdown mix and it’s thus unknown how much of this is made up from less lucrative bundled packages.  Newsstand sales of single-issue copies are a vital metric in this market, editors judged by monthly sales, a school of analysis now devoted to deconstructing the relationship between the photograph on an issue’s cover and copies sold; editorial content, while not ignored, seems less relevant.

The magazine’s future is thus uncertain as are the options were it not to continue as a distinct, stand-alone entity with a print version.  It’s a different environment from 1936 when it was absorbed into Vogue and different even to the turn of the century when Mirabella, a similar publication facing similar problems, closed.  The now well-practiced path of ceasing print production and going wholly digital may become attractive if circulation continues to suffer.  While it true Condé Nast already has digital titles which would seem to overlap with Vanity Fair, that’s less of a concern than cannibalization in print where the relationship of production and distribution costs to individual sales is different; both are marginal in gaining additional digital subscriptions.

Vanity Cases

The vanity case is an ancient accessory, one, three-thousand years old, made from inlaid cedar containing ointment, face-paint, perfume and a mirror of polished metal, was discovered during one of Howard Carter’s (1874–1939) archaeological digs.  Well known in something recognizably modern from the fourteenth century in France and Italy, they became fashionable in England only during the 1700s and then for men, as a small box called a “dressing case”, designed to fit into larger “dressing case”.

Enamel vanity case by Gérard Sandoz, Paris, circa 1927 (left) and cigarette case by Cartier, Paris, circa 1925 (right).  During the 1920s, the modern styles evolved.  Most exquisite were the art-deco creations designed as companion pieces to the cigarette cases newly fashionable with women as the social acceptability of young ladies smoking became prevalent.