Pasha

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reproduction Porsche pasha fabric available from the Sierra Madre Collection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Decapitate

Decapitate (pronounced dih-kap-i-teyt)

(1) To cut off the head; to behead.

(2) Figuratively, to oust or destroy the leadership or ruling body of a government, military formation, criminal organization etc.

1605–1615: From the fourteenth century French décapiter, from the Late Latin dēcapitātus, past participle of dēcapitāre, the construct being dē- + capit- (stem of caput (head), genitive capitis), from the Proto-Italic kaput, from the Proto-Indo-European káput- (head) + -ātus.  The Latin prefix dē- (off) was from the preposition dē (of, from); the Old English æf- was a similar prefix.  The Latin suffix -ātus was from the Proto-Italic -ātos, from the primitive Indo-European -ehtos.  It’s regarded as a "pseudo-participle" and perhaps related to –tus although though similar formations in other Indo-European languages indicate it was distinct from it already in early Indo-European times.  It was cognate with the Proto-Slavic –atъ and the Proto-Germanic -ōdaz (the English form being -ed (having).  The feminine form was –āta, the neuter –ātum and it was used to form adjectives from nouns indicating the possession of a thing or a quality.  The English suffix -ate was a word-forming element used in forming nouns from Latin words ending in -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as estate, primate & senate).  Those that came to English via French often began with -at, but an -e was added in the fifteenth century or later to indicate the long vowel.  It can also mark adjectives formed from Latin perfect passive participle suffixes of first conjugation verbs -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as desolate, moderate & separate).  Again, often they were adopted in Middle English with an –at suffix, the -e appended after circa 1400; a doublet of –ee.  Decapitate, decapitated & decapitating are verbs, decapitation & decapitator are nouns.

Lindsay Lohan gardening with a lopper in her gloved hands, decapitation a less demanding path to destruction than deracination, New York City, May, 2015.  She appears to be relishing the task.

As a military strategy, the idea of decapitation is as old as warfare and based on the effective “cut the head off the snake”.  The technique of decapitation is to identify the leadership (command and control) of whatever structure or formation is hostile and focus available resources on that target.  Once the leadership has been eliminated, the effectiveness of the rest of the structure should be reduced and the idea is applied also in cyber warfare although in that field, target identification can be more difficult.  The military’s decapitation strategy is used by many included law enforcement bodies and can to some extent be applied in just about any form of interaction which involves conflicting interests.  The common English synonym is behead and that word may seem strange because it means “to take off the head” where the English word bejewel means “to put on the jewels”.  It’s because of the strange and shifting prefix "be-".  Behead was from the Middle English beheden, bihefden & biheveden, from the Old English behēafdian (to behead).  The prefix be- however evolved from its use in Old English.  In modern use it’s from the Middle English be- & bi-, from the Old English be- (off, away), from the Proto-Germanic bi- (be-), from the Proto-Germanic bi (near, by), the ultimate root the primitive Indo-European hepi (at, near) and cognate be- in the Saterland Frisian, the West Frisian, the Dutch, the German & Low German and the Swedish.  When the ancestors of behead were formed, the prefix be- was appended to create the sense of “off; away” but over the centuries it’s also invested the meanings “around; about” (eg bestir), “about, regarding, concerning” (eg bemoan), “on, upon, at, to, in contact with something” (eg behold), “as an intensifier” (eg besotted), “forming verbs derived from nouns or adjectives, usually with the sense of "to make, become, or cause to be" (eg befriend) & "adorned with something" (eg bejewel)).

A less common synonym is decollate, from the Latin decollare (to behead) and there’s also the curious adjective decapitable which (literally “able or fit to be decapitated”) presumably is entirely synonymous with “someone whose head has not been cut off” though not actually with someone alive, some corpses during the French Revolution being carted off to be guillotined, the symbolism of the seemingly superfluous apparently said to have been greeted by the mob "with a cheer".  Just as pleasing though less bloody were the Citroën cabriolets crafted between 1958-1974 by French coachbuilder Henri Chapron (1886-1978).

1971 Citroën DS21 Décapotable Usine.

Produced between 1955-1975, the sleek Citroën DS must have seemed something from science fiction to those accustomed to what was plying the roads outside but although it soon came to be regarded as something quintessentially French, the DS was actually designed by an Italian.  In this it was similar to French fries (invented in Belgium) and Nicolas Sarközy (b 1955; President of France 2007-2012), who first appeared on the planet the same year as the shapely DS and he was actually from here and there.  It was offered as the DS and the lower priced ID, the names a play on words, DS in French pronounced déesse (goddess) and ID idée (idea).  The goddess nickname caught on though idea never did.

Citroën Cabriolet d'Usine production count, 1960-1971.

Henri Chapron had attended the Paris Auto Salon when the DS made its debut and while Citroën had planned to offer a cabriolet, little had been done beyond some conceptual drawings and development resources were instead devoted to higher-volume variants, the ID (a less powerful DS with simplified mechanicals and less elaborate interior appointments) which would be released in 1957 and the Break (a station wagon marketed variously the Safari, Break, Familiale or Wagon), announced the next year.  Chapron claims it took him only a glance at the DS in display for him instantly to visualise the form his cabriolet would take but creating one proved difficult because such was the demand Citroën declined to supply a partially complete platform, compelling the coach-builder to secure a complete car from a dealer willing (on an undisclosed basis) to “bump” his name up the waiting list while he worked on the blueprints.  It wasn’t until 1958 Carrosserie Chapron presented their first DS cabriolet, dubbed La Croisette, named after the emblematic costal boulevard of Cannes and while initially it wasn’t approved by the factory (compelling Chapron to continue buying complete cars from dealers), it was obvious to Citroën’s engineers that they’d been presented with a shortcut to production.  Accordingly, Chapron designed a DS cabriolet suited to series production (as opposed to his bespoke creations) and that meant using the longer wheelbase platform of the Break, chosen because it was structurally enhanced to cope with the loads station wagons carry.  Beginning in 1960, these (in ID & DS versions) were the approved Cabriolets d'Usine, distributed until 1971 through Citroën’s dealer network, complete with a factory warranty.

1964 Citroën DW19 Décapotable Usine.  For statistical purposes the DWs are included in the DS production count)

The DS and ID are well documented in the model's history but there was also the more obscure DW, built at Citroën's UK manufacturing plant in the Berkshire town Slough which sits in the Thames Valley, some 20 miles west of London.  The facility was opened in February 1926 as part of the Slough Trading Estate (opened just after World War I (1914-1918)) which was an early example of an industrial park, the place having the advantage of having the required infrastructure needed because constructed by the government for wartime production and maintenance activities.  Citroën was one of the first companies to establish an operation on the site, overseas assembly prompted by the UK government's imposition of tariffs (33.3% on imported vehicles, excluding commercial vehicles) and the move had the added advantage of the right-hand-drive (RHD) cars being able to be exported throughout the British Empire under the “Commonwealth Preference”, arrangements, a low-tariff scheme, elements of which would endure as a final relic of the chimera of imperial free trade until 1973 when the UK joined the EEC (European Economic Community).  Unlike similar operations, which in decades to come would appear world-wide, the Slough Citroëns were not assembled from CKD (completely knocked down) kits which needed only local labor to bolt them together but used a mix of imported parts and locally produced components.  The import tariff was avoided if the “local content” (labor and domestically produced (although those sourced from elsewhere in the empire could qualify) parts) reached a certain threshold (measured by the total P&L (parts & labor) value in local currency); it was an approach many governments would follow and it remains popular today as a means of encouraging (and protecting) local industries and creating employment.  People able to find jobs in places like Slough would have been pleased but for those whose background meant they were less concerned with something as tiresome as paid-employment, the noise and dirt of factories seemed just a scar upon the “green and pleasant land” of William Blake (1757–1827).  In his poem Slough (1937), Sir John Betjeman (1906–1984; Poet Laureate 1972-1984), perhaps recalling Stanley Baldwin's (1867–1947; UK prime-minister 1923-1924, 1924-1929 & 1935-1937) “The bomber will always get through” speech (1932) welcomed the thought, writing:  “Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!  It isn’t fit for humans now”  Within half a decade, the Luftwaffe would grant his wish.

1964 Citroën DW19 Décapotable Usine.

During World War II (1939-1945), the Slough plant was requisitioned for military use and some 23,000 CMP (Canadian Military Pattern) trucks were built, civilian production resuming in 1946.  After 1955, Slough built both the ID and DS, the latter including the traditionally English leather trim and a wooden dashboard, a touch which some critics claimed was jarring among the otherwise modernist ambiance but the appeal was real because some French distributors imported the Slough dashboard parts for owners who liked the look.  The UK-built cars also used 12 volt Lucas electrics until 1963 and it was in that year the unique DW model was slotted in between the ID and DS.  Available only with a manual transmission and a simplified version of the timber veneer, the DW was configured with the ID's foot-operated clutch but used the more powerful DS engine, power steering and power brakes.  When exported, the DW was called DS19M and the "DW" label was applied simply because it was Citroën's internal code to distinguish (RHD) models built in the UK from the standard left-hand-drive (LHD) models produced in France.  Citroën assembly in Slough ended in February 1965 and although the factory initially retained the plant as a marketing, service & distribution centre, in 1974 these operations were moved to other premises and the buildings were taken over by Mars Confectionery.  Today, no trace remains of the Citroën works in Slough.

1963 Citroën Le Dandy & 1964 Citroën Palm Beach by Carrosserie Chapron.

Citroën DS by Carrosserie Chapron production count 1958-1974. 

Demand was higher at a lower price-point, as Citroën's 1325 cabriolets indicate but Carrosserie Chapron until 1974 maintained output of his more exclusive an expensive lines although by the late 1960s, output, never prolific, had slowed to a trickle.  Chapron’s originals varied in detail and the most distinguishing difference between the flavors was in the rear coachwork, the more intricate being those with the "squared-off" (sometimes called "finned" or "fin-tailed") look, a trick Mercedes-Benz had in 1957 adopted to modernize the 300d (W189, 1957-1963, the so called "Adenauer Mercedes", named after Konrad Adenauer (1876–1967; chancellor of the FRG (Federal Republic of Germany (the old West Germany) 1949-1963) who used several of the W186 (300, 300b, 300c, 1951-1957) & 300s models as his official state cars).  Almost all Chapron's customized DS models were built to special order between under the model names La Croisette, Le Paris, Le Caddy, Le Dandy, Concorde, Palm Beach, Le Léman, Majesty, & Lorraine; all together, 287 of these were delivered and reputedly, no two were exactly alike.

Citroën Concorde coupés by Chapron: 1962 DS 19 (left) and 1965 DS 21 (right).  The DS 21 is one of six second series cars, distinguished by their “squared-off” rear wing treatment and includes almost all the luxury options Chapron had on their list including electric windows, leather trim, the Jaeger instrument cluster, a Radiomatic FM radio with automatic Hirschmann antenna, the Robergel wire wheel covers and the Marchal auxiliary headlights.

Alongside the higher-volume Cabriolets d'Usine, Carrosserie Chapron continued to produce much more expensive décapotables (the Le Caddy and Palm Beach cabriolets) as well as limousines (the Majesty) and coupés, the most numerous of the latter being Le Dandy, some 50 of which were completed between 1960-1968.  More exclusive still was another variation of the coupé coachwork, the Concorde with a more spacious cabin notably for the greater headroom it afforded the rear passengers.  Only 38 were built over five years and at the time they cost as much as the most expensive Cadillac 75 Limousine.

Bossaert's Citroën DS19-based GT 19 (1959-1964); the Marchal auxiliary headlights a later addition (top).

Others also built DS coupés & convertibles.  Between 1959-1964 Belgium-born Hector Bossaert produced more than a dozen DS coupés and what distinguished his was a platform shortened by 470 mm (18½ inches) and the use of a notchback roof-line.  Dubbed the Bossaert GT 19, the frontal styling was unchanged although curiously, the Citroën chevrons on the rear pillars were rotated by 90°; apart from the GT 19 Bossaert script on the boot lid (trunk lid), they are the vehicle’s only external identification.  Opinion remains divided about the aesthetes of the short wheelbase (SWB) DSs.  While it’s conceded the Chapron coupés & cabriolets do, in terms of design theory, look “unnaturally” elongated, the lines somehow suit the machines and the word most often used is “elegant” whereas the SWB cars do seem stubby and obviously truncated although, had the originals never existed, perhaps the SWB would look more "natural".  The consensus seems to be the GT 19 was the best implementation of the SWB idea, helped also by it being 70 mm (2¾ inches) lower than the donor DS and perhaps that would be expected given the design was by the Italian Pietro Frua (1913-1983).  Bossaert also increased the power.  Although the hydro-pneumatic suspension and slippery aerodynamics made the DS a fine high-speed cruiser, the 1.9 litre (117 cubic inch) four cylinder engine was ancient and inclined to be agricultural if pushed; acceleration was not sparking.  Bossaert thus offered “tuning packages” which included the usual methods: bigger carburetors & valves, and more aggressive camshaft profile and a higher compression ratio, all of which transformed the performance from “mediocre” to “slightly above average”.

The one-off Bossaert GT 19 convertible (left) and the one off 1966 Citroën DS21-based Bossaert cabriolet (right).

Demand was limited by the price; a GT 19 cost more than double that of a DS and the conversion was more than a Jaguar so one really had to be prepared to pay for the exclusivity.  Additionally, when the Citroën management discovered someone in a garage was “hotting-up” their engines, it was made clear that would invalidate any warranty.  Most sources say only 13 were built but there were also two convertibles, one based on the GT 19 (though fitted with fared in headlights) and the other quite different, owing more to the Chapron Caddy; both remained one-offs.  Two of the GT 19 coupés and the later convertible survive.

Right-side clignotant (left) on 1974 Citroën DS23 Pallas (right).

On the DS & ID saloons, the clignotants (turn indicators; flashers) were mounted in a housing which was styled to appear as a continuation of the roof-gutter; it was touches like that which were a hint the lines of the DS were from the drawing board of an Italian, Flaminio Bertoni (1903–1964) who, before working in industrial design in pre-war Italy, had trained as a sculptor.  Citroën seems never to have claimed the placement was a safety feature and critics of automotive styling have concluded the flourish was added as part of the avant-garde vibe.  However, the way the location enhanced their visibility attracted the interest of those advocating things needed to be done to make automobiles safer and while there were innovations in “active safety” (seat-belts, crumple zones et al), there was also the field of “passive safety” and that included visibility; at speed, reducing a driver’s reaction time by a fraction of a second can be the difference between life and death and researchers concluded having a “third brake light” at eye level did exactly that.  So compelling was the case it was under the administration of Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989 and hardly friendly to new regulations) that in 1986 the US mandated the CHMSL (centre high mount stop lamp) but because the acronym lacked a effortless pronunciation the legislated term never caught on and the devices are known variously as “centre brake light”, “eye level brake light”, “third brake light”, “high-level brake light” & “safety brake light”.  Unintentionally, Citroën may have started something though it took thirty years to realize the implications.

Coincidently, in the same year the DS debuted, Rudimentary seat-belts first appeared in production cars during the 1950s but the manufacturers must have thought the public indifferent because their few gestures were tentative such as in 1956 when Ford had offered (as an extra-cost option) a bundle of safety features called the “Lifeguard Design” package which included:

(1) Padded dashboards (to reduce head injuries).

(2) Recessed steering wheel hub (to minimize chest injuries).

(3) Seat belts (front lap belts only)

(4) Stronger door latches (preventing doors flying open in a crash)

(5) Shatter-resistant rear-view mirror (reducing injuries caused by from broken glass).

The standard features included (1) the Safety-Swivel Rear View Mirror, (2) the Deep-Center Steering Wheel with recessed post and bend-away spokes and (3) Double-Grip Door Latches with interlocking striker plate overlaps; Optional at additional cost were (4) Seat Belts (single kit, front or rear, color-keyed, nylon-rayon with quick one-handed adjust/release aluminium buckle)  (US$5).  There were also "bundles", always popular in Detroit.  Safety Package A consisted of a  Padded Instrument Panel & Padded Sun Visors (US$18) while Safety Package B added to that Front-Seat Lap Seat Belts (US$27).  On the 1956 Thunderbird which used a significantly different interior design, the options were (1) the Lifeguard Padded Instrument Panel (US$22.65), (2) Lifeguard Padded Sun Visors (US$9) and (3) Lifeguard Seat Belts (US$14).  Years later, internal documents would be discovered which revealed conflict within the corporation, the marketing department opposed to any mention of "safety features" because that reminded potential customers of car crashes; they would prefer they be reminded of new colors, higher power, sleek new lines and such.  So, little was done to promote the “Lifeguard Design”, public demand was subdued and the soon the option quietly was deleted from the list.

The rising death-toll and complaints from the insurance industry however meant the issue of automotive safety re-surfaced in the 1960s and the publication by lawyer Ralph Nadar (b 1934) of the book Unsafe at Any Speed (1965) which explored the issue played a part in triggering what proved to be decades of legislation which not even the efforts and money of Detroit's lobbyists could stop.  They could however delay things here and there and although it was a minor and temporary victory, the matter of the CHMSL was kicked down the road until 1986.  The executives in Detroit were (and remain) "slippery slide) (or "thin end of the wedge") theorists in that they thought if they agreed to some innocuous suggestion from government then that would encourage edicts both more onerous and expensive to implement.  History proved them in that correct but the intriguing thing was that more than a decade earlier, the industry had gone beyond the the SHMSL and of its own volition offered DHMSLs (high mount stop lamps), one division of General Motors (GM) even making the fittings standard equipment on one model.

1970 Ford Thunderbird brochure (left) and 1972 Oldsmobile Toronado (right).

In 1969 Ford added “High-Level Taillamps, eye level warning to following drivers” to the option list for the 1970 Thunderbird.  What that described was two brake lights fitted on either side of the rear-window and being a update of a model introduced for 1967, the devices were “bolt-ons” rather than being integrated into the structure.  As with the “Lifeguard Design” of 1956, demand was low, customers more prepared to pay for bigger engines and “dress up” options than safety features.  GM’s Oldsmobile solved the problem of low demand by making the DHMSLs standard equipment on the Toronado, their big PLC (personal luxury coupe).  Being a new body, the opportunity was taken to integrate them into the structure and they sat below the rear window.

1987 Mercedes-Benz 560 SL (left), 1989 Mercedes-Benz 560 SL (centre) and 2001 Mercedes-Benz SL 600 (right).

When in 1971 the Mercedes-Benz 350 SL (R107, 1971-1989) was introduced, it occurred to no one it would still be in production in 1989, the unplanned longevity the product of an uncertainty about whether the US government would outlaw convertibles.  The by then 15 year old roadster thus had to have a CHMSL added when the legislation came into effect and it’s suspected the project was handed to the same team responsible for making the company’s headlights comply with US law.  What they did was “bolt on” to the trunk (boot) lid a lamp which seemed to suggest the design brief had been: “make it stick out like a sore thumb”.  If so, they succeeded and while the revised model (1988-1989) used a similar concept mounted closer to the tail, it was at least smaller; frankly, Ford did a better job with the 1970 T-bird although, in fairness, the Germans didn’t have a rear window with which to work.  When the R129 roadster (1989-2001) was developed, the opportunity was taken (al la the 1971 Oldsmobile Toronado) to integrate a CHMSL into the lid.

1989 Porsche 911 (930) Turbo Cabriolet (left) and 2004 Porsche 911 (996) Turbo Cabriolet.

In 1986, the Porsche 911 had been around longer even than the Mercedes-Benz R107.  First sold in 1964 and updated for 1974 with (US mandated) bumpers, in 1986 it became another example of a “bolt on” solution for the CHMSL rule but unlike the one used on the R107, on the 911 there’s a charm to the lamp sitting atop a stalk, like that of some crustaceans, molluscs, insects and stalk-eyed imaginings from SF (science fiction).  All the “bolt-ons” existed because while there is nothing difficult about the engineering of a CHMSL, many would be surprised to learn just how expensive it would have been for a manufacturer to integrate such a thing into an existing structure; a prototype or mock-up would be quick and cheap but translating that into series production would have involved a number of steps and the costs would have been considerable.  That’s why there were so many “bolt-on” CHMSLs in the late 1980s.  Interestingly, when the next 911 (964 1989-1994) was released, on the coupe’s the CHMSL was re-positioned at the top of the rear window while the cabriolets retained the stalk.  The factory persevered with this approach for a while and it was only later the unit became integrated into the rear bodywork (with many variations).

1968 Citroën DS20 Break (left) and 1958 DeSoto Firesweep Explorer Station Wagon (right).

In 1958, a station wagon version of the DS & ID was released; because of historic regional variations in terminology, in different places it was marketed as the Break (France), Safari or Estate (UK), Station Wagon (North America) and Safari or Station Wagon (Australia) but between markets there were only detail differences.  Because of the top-hinged tailgate, to mount the clignotants in the high positions used on the saloons would have been difficult so they were integrated into a vertical stack of three in a conventional location.  In style the lens and the small “fin” in which they sat recalled the arrangement DeSoto in the US had made their signature since late 1955 although it’s unlikely the US design had much influence on what was for Citroën a pragmatic solution for a vehicle then regarded as having most appeal as a Commerciale.  The French certainly weren’t drawn to fins as macropterous as some Detroit had encouraged theirs to grow to by 1958.

Bossaert's tail lights from the parts bin of Fiat (left) and BMC (right). 

Convertibles of course lack a roof so the clignotants couldn’t continue in their eye-catching place with topless coachwork and their placement on the DS & ID varied in accordance with how the rear coachwork was handled.  Bossaert took a conventional approach and emulated a look familiar on many European roadsters & cabriolets.  For the GT 19 the taillights (known as carrellos) came from the Fiat Pininfarina Coupé & Cabriolet (1959-1966), a vertical style which in the era appeared on a number of cars including Ferraris, Peugeots and Rovers.  For his other take on a convertible DS, Bossaert reached over the English Channel and from the BMC (British Motor Corporation) parts bin selected the units used by the Wolseley Hornet & Riley Elf (luxury versions of the Mini (1959-2000), built between 1969-1969 which, as well as the expected leather & burl walnut veneer trim, had an extended tail with distinctly brachypterous “finettes”).  The success of the Hornet & Elf in class-conscious England encouraged BMC in 1964 to go even more up-market and have their in-house coach-builder Vanden Plas produce a version of the Austin 1100 (ADO16, 1963-1974) and all the ADO16s until 1967 shared their taillights with the Hornet and Elf.  Although visually similar to those used between 1962-1970 on MG’s MGB (1962-1980) & MGC (1967-1969); they are different, the Hornet/Elf/ADO16 units being the Lucas L549 while the MGs used the L550.  Between 1961-1966, the MG Midget (1961-1980) used the L549 and between 1966-1970 the L550.

1970 Chapron Citroën DS20 Décapotable Usine (left), 1962 Chapron Citroën DS19 Concorde (with clignotants rouge, right) and 1965 Chapron Citroën DS21 Le Caddy (with clignotants ambre, right).

Chapron’s approach to clignotant placement varied with rear coachwork.  On the volume models officially supported by the factory, two small lens were fitted within chrome housings, mounted on opposite sides at the base of the soft-top.  For his more exclusive Le Caddy & Concorde with squared-off rear quarters (al la the “modernizing” look Mercedes-Benz applied to the 300 Adenauer W186, 1951-1957) to create the 300d (1957-1962)) Chapron re-purposed one of the existing taillights, using a still-lawful red lens on many although later models switched to amber.

1973 Citroën DS23 Pallas "landaulet" (in the style of that once used by the French president, left), 2010 Maybach 62 S Landaulet (to right), John Paul II (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005) in Papal 1965 Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL Landaulet (bottom left) and Pope Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) in 1966 Mercedes-Benz 600 Landaulet (bottom right).

From the moment it first was shown in 1955 the DS has intrigued and it’s the various convertibles which attract most attention.  To this day, the things remain a symbol which quintessentially is French and at least two have been converted into “full-roof” landaulets for tourists to be escorted around Paris.  The landaulet (a car with a removable roof which retains the side window frames) was a fixture on coach-building lists during the 1920s & 1930s but became rare in the post-war years; of late the only ones produced in any volume were the 59 Mercedes-Benz 600s (1963-1981) which came in “short” and “long” (though not full) roof versions although there was a revival, 22 Maybach 62 S Landaulets built between 2011-2022, one of which was even right-hand-drive (RHD).  Considering the price and specialized nature of the variant, that there were 22 made makes the Landaulet more a success than the unfortunate "standard" Maybachs which managed only some 3300 between 2002-2013.  The Papal Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL (W109) Landaulet was a gift from the factory but it was for years little used because the next year a very special 600 (W100) Pullman Landaulet was provided and this much more spacious limousine was preferred.  The papal 600 was unique in that it was one of the “high roof” state versions and fitted with longer rear doors, a “throne” in the rear compartment which, mounted on an elevated floor, could be raised or lowered as Hid Holiness percolated through crowed streets.  It was the latest in a long line of limousines and landaulets the factory provided for the Holy See and remains one of the best known; returned to the factory in 1985, it’s now on permanent display at the Mercedes-Benz museum in Stuttgart.  Use of the 600 became infrequent after the attempted assassination of John Paul II (1981).  As a stopgap, the 300 SEL quickly was armor-plated and used occasionally until the arrival of “Popemobiles” in which the pontiff sat in an elevated compartment with bullet-proof glass sides.  Despite that, Mercedes-Benz have since delivered two S-Class (a V126 & V140) landaulets to the Vatican.  Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013) has no taste for limousines or much else which is extravagant and prefers small, basic cars although to ensure security the bullet-proof Popemobiles remain essential and in 2024 Mercedes-Benz presented the Holy See with a fully-electric model, based on the new W465 G-Class.  The Vatican is planning to have transitioned to a zero-emission vehicle fleet by 2030.   

1974 Citroën DS23 Pallas: the one-off Australian “semi-phaeton”.

In Australia, someone created something really unique: a DS “semi-phaeton”.  While the definition became looser until eventually it became merely a model name which meant nothing beyond some implication of exclusivity & high price, the term “phaeton” (borrowed from the age of the horse-drawn buggy) referred to a vehicle with no top or side windows.  By the late 1930s, when last they were on the books as regular production models, the “phaetons” had gained folding tops and often removable side windows but they’d also lost market appeal and except for the odd few built for ceremonial purposes (the most memorable the three Chrysler Imperial Parade Phaetons built in 1952 and still occasionally used), there was no post-war revival.  The Australian creation was based on a 1974 DS23 Pallas and had no top or rear-side windows but they remained operative in the front doors.  The rear doors were changed to hinge from the rear (the so-called “suicide doors”; the external handles removed from all four), an indication the engineering was more intricate than many of the “four-door convertibles” made over the years by decapitating a sedan; the sales blurb did note the platform was “strengthened”, something essential when a structural component like a roof is removed.

The Citroën SM, a few of which were decapitated 

1972 Citroën SM (left) & 1971 Citroën SM Mylord by Carrosserie Chapron (right).  The wheels are the Michelin RR (roues en résine or résine renforcée (reinforced resin)) composites, cast using a patented technology invented by NASA for the original moon buggy.  The Michelin wheel was one-piece and barely a third the weight of the equivalent steel wheel but the idea never caught on, doubts existing about their long-term durability and susceptibility to extreme heat (the SM had inboard brakes).  

Upon release in 1971, immediately the Citroën SM was recognized as among the planet's most intricate and intriguing cars.  A descendant of the DS which in 1955 had been even more of a sensation, it took Citroën not only up-market but into a niche the SM had created, nothing quite like it previously existing, the combination of a large (in European terms), front-wheel-drive (FWD) luxury coupé with hydro-pneumatic suspension, self-centreing (Vari-Power) steering, high-pressure braking and a four-cam V6 engine, a mix unique in the world.  The engine had been developed by Maserati, one of Citroën’s recent acquisitions and the name acknowledged the Italian debt, SM standing for Systemé Maserati.  Although, given the size and weight of the SM, the V6 was of modest displacement to attract lower taxes (initially 2.7 litres (163 cubic inch)) and power was limited (181 HP (133 kW)) compared to the competition, such was the slipperiness of the body's aerodynamics that in terms of top speed, it was at least a match for most.

1973 Citroën SM with reproduction RR wheels in aluminium.

However, lacking the high-performance pedigree enjoy by some of that competition, a rallying campaign had been planned as a promotional tool.  Although obviously unsuited to circuit racing, the big, heavy SM didn’t immediately commend itself as a rally car; early tests indicated some potential but there was a need radically to reduce weight.  One obvious candidate was the steel wheels but attempts to use lightweight aluminum units proved abortive, cracking encountered when tested under rally conditions.  Michelin immediately offered to develop glass-fibre reinforced resin wheels, the company familiar with the material which had proved durable when tested under extreme loads.  Called the Michelin RR (roues resin (resin wheel)), the new wheels were created as a one-piece mold, made entirely of resin except for some embedded steel reinforcements at the stud holes to distribute the stresses.  At around 9.4 lb (4¼ kg) apiece, they were less than half the weight of a steel wheel and in testing proved as strong and reliable as Michelin had promised.  Thus satisfied, Citroën went rallying.

Citroën SM, Morocco Rally, 1971.

The improbable rally car proved a success, winning first time out in the 1971 Morocco Rally and further success followed.  Strangely, the 1970s proved an era of heavy cruisers doing well in the sport, Mercedes-Benz winning long-distance events with their 450 SLC 5.0 which was both the first V8 and the first car with an automatic transmission to win a European rally.  Stranger still, Ford in Australia re-purposed one of the Falcon GTHO Phase IV race cars which had become redundant when the programme was cancelled in 1972 and the thing proved surprisingly competitive during the brief periods it was mobile although the lack of suitable tyres meant repeatedly the sidewalls would fail; the car was written off after a serious crash.  The SM, GTHO & SLC proved a quixotic tilt and the sport went a different direction.  On the SM however, the resin wheels had proved their durability, not one failing during the whole campaign and encouraged by customer requests, Citroën in 1972 offered the wheels as a factory option although only in Europe; apparently the thought of asking the US federal safety regulators to approve plastic wheels (as they’d already been dubbed by the motoring press) seemed to the French so absurd they never bothered to submit an application.

1974 prototype Citroën SM with 4.0 V8.

Ambitious as it was, circumstances combined in a curious way that might have made the SM more remarkable still.  By 1973, sales of the SM, after an encouraging start had for two years been in decline, a reputation for unreliability already tarnishing its reputation but the first oil shock dealt what appeared to be a fatal blow; from selling almost 5000 in 1971, by 1974 production numbered not even 300.  The market for fast, thirsty cars had shrunk and most of the trans-Atlantic hybrids (combining elegant European coachwork with large, powerful and cheap US V8s), which had for more than a decade done good business as alternative to the highly strung British and Italian thoroughbreds, had been driven extinct.  Counter-intuitively, Citroën’s solution was to develop an even thirstier V8 SM and that actually made sense because, in an attempt to amortize costs, the SM’s platform had been used as the basis for the new Maserati Quattroporte but, bigger and heavier still, performance was sub-standard and the theory was a V8 version would transform both and appeal to the US market, then the hope of many struggling European manufacturers.

Recreation of 1974 Citroën SM V8 prototype.

Citroën didn’t have a V8; Maserati did but it was big and heavy, a relic with origins in racing and while its (never wholly tamed) raucous qualities suited the character of the sports cars and saloons Maserati offered in the 1960s, it couldn’t be used in something like the SM.  However, the SM’s V6 was a 90^o unit and thus inherently better suited to an eight-cylinder configuration.  In 1974 therefore, a four litre (244 cubic inch) V8 based on the V6 (by then 3.0 litres (181 cubic inch)) was quickly built and installed in an SM which was subjected to the usual battery of tests over a reported 20,000 km (12,000 miles) during which it was said to have performed faultlessly.  Bankruptcy (to which the SM, along with some of the company's other ventures, notably the GZ Wankel programme, contributed) however was the death knell for both the SM and the V8, the prototype car scrapped while the unique engine was removed and stored, later used to create a replica of the 1974 test mule.

Evidence does however suggest a V8 SM would likely have been a failure, just compounding the existing error on an even grander scale.  It’s true that Oldsmobile and Cadillac had offered big FWD coupés with great success since the mid 1960s (the Cadillac at one point fitted with a 500 cubic inch (8.2 litre) V8 rated at what sounds an alarming 400 HP (300 kW)) but they were very different machines to the SM and appealed to a different market.  Probably the first car to explore what demand might have existed for a V8 SM was the hardly successful 1986 Lancia Thema 8·32 which used the Ferrari 308's 2.9 litre (179 cubic inch) V8 in a FWD platform.  Although well-executed within the limitations the configuration imposed, it was about a daft an idea as it sounds although it did hint at what a success a V8 Fiat 130 saloon (1969-1976) & coupé (1971-1977) might have been if sold with a Lancia badge.  Even had the V8 SM been all-wheel-drive (AWD) it would probably still have been a failure but it would now be remembered as a revolution ahead of its time.  As it is, the whole SM story is just another cul-de-sac, albeit one which has become a (mostly) fondly-regarded cult.

State Citroëns by Carrosserie Chapron: 1968 Citroën DS state limousine (left) and 1972 Citroën SM Présidentielle (right).

In the summer of 1971, after years of slowing sales, Citroën announced the end of the décapotable usine and Chapron’s business model suffered, the market for specialized coach-building, in decline since the 1940s, now all but evaporated.  Chapron developed a convertible version of Citroën’s new SM called the Mylord but, very expensive, it was little more successful than the car on which it was based; although engineered to Chapron’s high standard, fewer than ten were built.  Government contracts did for a while seem to offer hope.  Charles De Gaulle (1890–1970; President of France 1958-1969) had been aghast at the notion the state car of France might be bought from Germany or the US (it’s not known which idea he thought most appalling and apparently nobody bothered to suggest buying British) so, at his instigation, Chapron (apparently without great enthusiasm) built a long wheelbase DS Presidential model.

Size matters: Citroën DS Le Presidentielle (left) and LBJ era stretched Lincoln Continental by Lehmann-Peterson of Chicago (right).

Begun in 1965, the project took three years, legend having it that de Gaulle himself stipulated little more than it be longer than the stretched Lincoln Continentals then used by the White House (John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) was assassinated in Lincoln Continental X-100 modified by Hess and Eisenhardt) and this was achieved, despite the requirement the turning circle had to be tight enough to enter the Elysée Palace’s courtyard from the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré and then pull up at the steps in a single maneuver.  Although size mattered on the outside, De Gaulle’s sense of “grandeur de la France” didn’t extend to what lay under the hood, Le Presidentielle DS retaining the 2.1 litre (133 cubic inch) 4 cylinder engine but he’d probably have scorned the 7.5 litre (462 cubic inch) V8 by then in Lincolns as typical American vulgarity.  As it was, although delivered to the Élysée in time for the troubles of 1968, Chapron’s DS was barely used by De Gaulle because he disliked the partition separating him from the chauffeur and he preferred either the earlier limousines built in the 1950s by Franay and Chapron (both based on the earlier Citroën Traction Avant 15/6) or a DS landaulet (with full-length folding roof) in which he could stand up and look down on the (hopefully) cheering crowds lining the road.

However, the slinky lines must have been admired because in 1972 Chapron was commissioned to supply two really big four-door convertible Le Presidentielle SMs as the state limousines for Le Général’s successor, Georges Pompidou (1911–1974; President of France 1969-1974).  First used for 1972 state visit of Elizabeth II (1926-2022; Queen of the UK and other places, 1952-2022), they remained in regular service until the inauguration of Jacques Chirac (1932–2019; President of France 1995-2007) in 1995, seen again on the Champs Elysees in 2004 during Her Majesty’s three-day state visit marking the centenary of the Entente Cordiale.

1972 Citroën SM Opera by Carrosserie Chapron (left) & 1973 Maserati Quattroporte II (right).  This is the Quattroporte which was slated to receive the V8 tested in the SM.

Despite that, state contracts for the odd limousine, while individually lucrative, were not a model to sustain a coach building business and a year after the Mylord was first displayed, Chapron inverted his traditional practice and developed from a coupé, a four-door SM called the Opera.  On a longer wheelbase, stylistically it was well executed but was heavy and both performance and fuel consumption suffered, the additional bulk also meaning some agility was lost.  Citroën was never much devoted to the project because they had in the works what was essentially their own take on a four-door SM, sold as the Maserati Quattroporte II (the Italian house having earlier been absorbed) but as things transpired in those difficult years, neither proved a success, only eight Operas and a scarcely more impressive thirteen Quattroporte IIs ever built.  The French machine deserved more, the Italian knock-off, probably not.  In 1974, Citroën entered bankruptcy, dragged down in part by the debacle which the ambitious SM had proved to be although there had been other debacles worse still.   Four years later, Henri Chapron died in Paris, his much down-sized company lingering on for some years under the direction of his industrious widow, the bulk of its work now customizing Citroën CXs.  Operations ceased in 1985 but the legacy is much admired and the décapotables remain a favorite of collectors and film-makers searching for something with which to evoke the verisimilitude of 1960s France.

Judith and the decapitation of Holofernes

In the Bible, the deuterocanonical books (literally “belonging to the second canon”) are those books and passages traditionally regarded as the canonical texts of the Old Testament, some of which long pre-date Christianity, some composed during the “century of overlap” before the separation between the Christian church and Judaism became institutionalized.  As the Hebrew canon evolved, the seven deuterocanonical books were excluded and on this basis were not included in the Protestant Old Testament, those denominations regarding them as apocrypha and they’re been characterized as such since.  Canonical or not, the relationship of the texts to the New Testament has long interested biblical scholars, none denying that links exist but there’s wide difference in interpretation, some finding (admittedly while giving the definition of "allusion" wide latitude) a continuity of thread, others only fragmentary references and even then, some paraphrasing is dismissed as having merely a literary rather than historical or theological purpose.

Le Retour de Judith à Béthulie (The Return of Judith to Bethulia) (1470) by Botticelli, (circa 1444-1510).

The Book of Judith exists thus in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Old Testaments but is assigned (relegated some of the hard-liners might say) by Protestants to the apocrypha.  It is the tale of Judith (יְהוּדִית in the Hebrew and the feminine of Judah), a legendarily beautiful Jewish widow who uses her charms to lure the Assyrian General Holofernes to his gruesome death (decapitated by her own hand) so her people may be saved.  As a text, the Book of Judith is interesting in that it’s a genuine literary innovation, a lengthy and structured thematic narrative evolving from the one idea, something different from the old episodic tradition of loosely linked stories.  That certainly reflects the influence of Hellenistic literary techniques and the Book of Judith may be thought a precursor of the historical novel: A framework of certain agreed facts upon a known geography on which an emblematic protagonist (Judith the feminine form of the national hero Judah) performs.  The atmosphere of crisis and undercurrent of belligerence lends the work a modern feel while theologically, it’s used to teach the importance of fidelity to the Lord and His commandments, a trust in God and how one must always be combative in defending His word.  It’s not a work of history, something made clear in the first paragraph; this is a parable.

Judit decapitando a Holofernes (Judith Beheading Holofernes) (circa 1600) by Caravaggio (Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1571–1610).

The facts of the climactic moment in the decapitation of General Holofernes are not in dispute, Judith at the appropriate moment drawing the general’s own sword, beheading him as he lay recumbent, passed out from too much drink.  Deed done, the assassin dropped the separated head in a leather basket and stole away.  The dramatic tale for centuries has attracted painters and sculptors, the most famous works created during the high Renaissance and Baroque periods and artists have tended to depict either Judith acting alone or in the company of her aged maid, a difference incidental to the murder but of some significance in the interpretation of preceding events.

Judit si presenta a Holofernes (Judith Presenting Herself to Holofernes) (circa 1724) by Antonio Gionima (1697–1732).

All agree the picturesque widow was able to gain access to the tent of Holofernes because of the general’s carnal desires but in the early centuries of Christianity, there’s little hint that Judith resorted to the role of seductress, only that she lured him to temptation, plied him with drink and struck.  The sexualization of the moment came later and little less controversial was the unavoidable juxtaposition of the masculine aggression of the blade-wielding killer with her feminine charms.  Given the premise of the tale and its moral imperative, the combination can hardly be avoided but it was for centuries disturbing to (male) theologians and priests, rarely at ease with bolshie women.  It was during the high Renaissance that artists began to vest Judith with an assertive sexuality (“from Mary to Eve” in the words of one critic), her features becoming blatantly beautiful, the clothing more revealing.  The Judith of the Renaissance and the Baroque appears one more likely to surrender her chastity to the cause where once she would have relied on guile and wine.

Judith (1928) by Franz von Stuck (1863–1928).

It was in the Baroque period that the representations more explicitly made possible the mixing of sex and violence in the minds of viewers, a combination that across media platforms remains today as popular as ever.  For centuries “Judith beheading Holofernes” was one of the set pieces of Western Art and there were those who explored the idea with references to David & Goliath (another example of the apparently weak decapitating the strong) or alluding to Salome, showing Judith or her maid carrying off the head in a basket.  The inventiveness proved not merely artistic because, in the wake of the ruptures caused by the emergent Protestant heresies, in the counter-attack by the Counter-Reformation, the parable was re-imagined in commissions issued by the Holy See, Judith’s blade defeating not only Assyrian oppression but all unbelievers, heretical Protestants just the most recently vanquished.  Twentieth century artists too have used Judith as a platform, predictably perhaps sometimes to show her as the nemesis of toxic masculinity and some have obviously enjoyed the idea of an almost depraved sexuality but there have been some quite accomplished versions.