Siren

Siren (pronounced sahy-ruhn)

(1) In classical mythology, one of several sea nymphs, sometimes depicted as part-woman, part-bird (and sometimes as sisters) who, with their seductive singing (their “siren song” or “siren call”), lured mariners to destruction on the rocky shore.

(2) A woman who sings sweetly and charms.

(3) In slang, a seductively beautiful or charming woman, especially one who beguiles men; a seductress, temptress or vamp; a dangerous woman who preys on the weaknesses and susceptibilities (there are a few of both).

(4) An acoustical instrument for producing musical tones, consisting essentially of a disk pierced with holes arranged equidistantly in a circle, rotated over a jet or stream of compressed air, steam or the like, so that the stream is alternately interrupted and allowed to pass.

(5) An variation of this implement, making a piercingly loud sound and used as a whistle, fog signal, or warning device; the sound made by such a device.

(6) In zoology, (1) any of several aquatic, eel-like salamanders of the family Sirenidae, having permanent external gills, small forelimbs and no posterior limbs, (2) a member of Sirenia, an order of mammals or (3) any of various nymphalid butterflies of the genus Hestina.

(7) Anything seductive or tempting (especially if potentially dangerous or harmful (something said to exert “a siren call” on one’s desire).

(8) In music, a musical instrument (one of the few aerophones in the percussion section of the symphony orchestra).

(9) An instrument for demonstrating the laws of beats and combination tones.

(10) In astronomy & astrophysics, an astrophysical event able to be used for calculating cosmic distances.

(11) As “siren suit”, an overall-like one-piece garment introduced in the UK during the “Blitz” as something to be worn by those in air-raid shelters.  

1300-1350: From the Middle English siren & serein, from the Old French sereine, (the Modern French sereine dating from the twelfth century), from the Late Latin sīrēna and the Classical Latin Sīrēn & Sīrēna, from the Ancient Greek Σειρήν (Seirḗn).  The Seirēnes were the alluring sea nymphs of classical mythology and the figurative sense of “one who sings sweetly and charms” was first noted in the 1580s although the classical descriptions of them were mangled in medieval translations, resulting in some odd and fantastical notions of their appearance and it wasn’t unusual for them to be conflated with mermaids.  The Vulgate (the Biblia Vulgata, the fourth century translation of the Bible which, through the choices of words and senses made by the translator(s) had a profound effect on Christianity and Christendom) also gifted to Middle English the use of the word to describe an imaginary species of flying serpents, based on glossary explanations of the Latin sirenes in Isaiah 13:22 (“And the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleasant palaces: and her time is near to come, and her days shall not be prolonged.”  (King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611)).  In the Greek, the word was used also to mean "a deceitful woman" although etymologists note that may have been to suggest she was “a binder, an entangler”, the sense from seira (cord, rope).  In zoology, the mammalian sense appeared first in French in Les entretiens d'Ariste et d'Eugène (Conversations between Ariste & Eugène) by the French Jesuit priest Dominique Bouhours (1628–1702) while the use to describe the aquatic salamander was introduced in 1766 by Swedish zoologist & physician Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778 and styled as Carl von Linné after 1761) for a genus of reptiles.  In organic chemistry, scientists noted the attraction exerted by the sirens of mythology and coined “sirenin” to describe a sexual attraction pheromone in some fungi of the genus Allomyces.  Less charmingly, in early twentieth century Australian urban slang, a “stem siren” was a prostitute; in the Australian way, often it was clipped to “stem”.

The use to describe the mechanical device “making a warning sound” was first recorded in 1879 when they were installed on steamboats and this may have been imitative of the similar French word.  In the course of the twentieth century, the things were adapted as audible warning devices for many purposes including air raids, emergency service vehicles and fire alarms (now mandatory in residential accommodation in many jurisdictions).  In schools, workplaces and other geographically large sites, they were used to mark the start and finish of shifts, lessons, meal breaks etc.  The Elizabethan era (1558-1603) adjectives sirenean, sirenian, sirenic, sirenical & sireny) went extinct but as late as the 1940s, the spelling variation sireen still occasionally appeared and not always as a deliberate archaism.  The writer & critic John Ruskin (1819–1900 and known for his fondness for young. beautiful creatures), used the rare sirenic so with that imprimatur, some modern aesthete might be tempted to revive the form.  Siren is a noun & verb, sirenize is a verb, sirenlike, sirenless, sirenical & sirenic are adjectives; the noun plural is sirens or (the rare) sirenes.

Odysseus and the Sirens

In Greek mythology, the Sirens were sea demons, half-woman and half bird (although there were variants in the tales).  They were said to be the daughters of Achelous and either Melpomene, Sterope or Terpsichore, Phorcys often named as their father, while it was also related they were born of the blood of Achelous when he was wounded by Heracles. There were two Sirens in the Odyssey (Homer’s eighth century BC epic poem following the ten year trek of King Odysseus (Ulysses) returning to his home island Ithaca after the decade-long Trojan War) but in the works of later authors there could be four (more often three).  Historians attribute variations in the myths to (1) authorial innovation or (2) in an age of limited literacy, poetry spread in oral performance, meaning details could become blurred.  What was consistent was the musical virtuosity of the Sirens, a popular depiction of them as a three-piece ensemble, one playing the flute and one the lyre while another sang her songs.

Sirens and the Night (1865), oil on canvas by William Edward Frost (1810-1877).

The Sirens used their lyrical and earthly charms to lure sailors to their death; attracted by the enchanting music and voices, the seduced seafarers would sail their ships too close to the rocky coast of the nymphs' island and there be shipwrecked.  Not untypically for the myths of Antiquity, the Sirens are said to have had many homes.  The Romans said they lived on some small islands called Sirenum scopuli while later authors place them variously on the islands of Anthemoessa, on Cape Pelorum, on the islands of the Sirenuse, near Paestum, or in Capreae.  All were places with rocky coasts and tall cliffs and thus for ships potentially lethal places although the fate of sailors was more gruesome, the Sirens devouring them.  The Argonauts sailed close to the Sirens, but, using the same principle as “radio jamming” in the twentieth century, Orpheus sang as long as the crew was within earshot of them (“drowning out their signal”), so none were lured (except the unfortunate Butes, carried away by Aphrodite after he fell victim).

Temptress in Siren mode: Lindsay Lohan, First Point (2011).

It was Odysseus who most famously escaped the sirens.  Longing to hear their songs but, forewarned by Circe and having no wish to be shipwrecked and devoured, he had his sailors fill their ears with beeswax, rendering them deaf.  Then, he ordered he be tied to the mast, telling his crew that whatever he said, they were not to release him but instead tighten the knots, not cutting the bonds until the ship had sailed far from the coast.  Of course, approaching the rocks, he heard the lovely voices and implored the crew to release him but they followed their skipper’s orders, not setting him free until the danger had passed.  Some writers claimed the Sirens were doomed to die if a man heard their singing and escaped and, as Odysseus sailed off, they flung themselves into the waters and drowned but, among the myths, that was not always their fate.  The idea of the Sirens persists in idiomatic use: the term “siren sound” refers to words or something exerting a particularly compelling attraction but “siren song” or “siren call” can be used of something not directly audible, such as the thoughts evoked by a painting or even a concept; populism, fascism & communism have all been described thus.  That idiomatic use describes an enticing but dangerous appeal, especially a misleading one.

The Roman Poet Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BC–17 AD) wrote that the Sirens were once ordinary girls, companions of Persephone; in his telling they were something “nice girls from good families who got led astray by mixing with the wrong crowd”.  When Persephone was abducted by Pluto, they asked the gods for wings so they could soar in the skies to help them search for their lost companion; that’s the most romantic explanation for the “half-woman and half bird” motif.  More unforgiving writers attributed the transformation to (1) the anger felt by Demeter when the Sirens failed to prevent the abduction of her daughter or (2) the wrath of Aphrodite who sought to deprived them of their feminine beauty because they scorned the pleasures of love.  A twist on that was that after their transformation, they made the mistake of trying to rival the muses who avenged the slight by plucking the Sirens’ feathers.  In a literary sense, the nymphs certainly exerted on authors a siren call.  The tomb of the Siren Parthenope was said to be in Naples, where her body had been cast upon the shore and that geographical connection is in the narrative strand in which Parthenope was a hauntingly beautiful Phrygian girl who fell in love with Metiochus but could not bring herself to break her vow of chastity.  She cut off her hair and ran off into exile in Campania (close to Naples) where she dedicated herself to Dionysus, something possibly the origin of Aphrodite’s disapprobation; it was Aphrodite who turned Parthenope into a Siren as punishment for abandoning her love.  The Sirens were also said to sing for the blessed in the Islands of the Blessed; because they could play the celestial harmonies, they were often depicted on sarcophagi.

First Point (2011) by Richard Phillips (b 1962), hosted by Vimeo by courtesy of Richard Phillips and Gagosian Gallery.  Lindsay Lohan as a siren; it would seem almost a calling.  Screened in conjunction with the 54^th international exhibition of the Venice Biennale (June 2011), First Point was a short film said by the diredctor to represent a “new kind of portraiture.”  Filmed in Malibu, California, the piece was included in the Commercial Break series, presented by Moscow's Garage Center for Contemporary Culture (now Garage Museum of Contemporary Art); although the promotional notes indicated it would include footage of the ankle monitor she helped make famous, the device doesn't appear in the final cut.

Directed by: Richard Phillips & Taylor Steele

Director of Photography: Todd Heater

Costume Designer: Ellen Mirojnick

Creative Director: Dominic Sidhu

Art Director: Kyra Griffin

Editor: Haines Hall

Color mastering: Pascal Dangin for Boxmotion

Music: Tamaryn & Rex John Shelverton

The Chrysler Air Raid Siren and the Firepower V8  

According to Guinness World Records, the loudest sirens ever were the 350-odd built in the early 1950s by Chrysler for the US government and installed around the country to warn of an impending nuclear attack by the Soviet Union.  The maximum volume the devices generated was recorded (at a distance of 100 feet (30.5 m)) as 138 dB (decibels), a level at which a human would suffer at least temporary deafness if within around 200 feet (60 m) during operation.  Guinness noted the compressor discharge throughput at peak volume was 74 m³ (2,610 cubic feet at 7 lb per square inch) of air per second and the physics of fluid dynamics (air a fluid in this context) was such this would have caused a sheet of paper in the path spontaneously to ignite.  By comparison the now retired SST (supersonic transport) airline Concorde at take-off produced noise levels between 112-114 dB at a distance of 100 feet and even afterburner equipped military jets (F-16, F-35 etc) haven’t been recorded as generating levels as high as 138 dB.

Although there were ebbs in the tensions, the “High Cold War” is defined usually as the time between the early 1950s and late 1960s, the public's fear of thermo-nuclear war at sometimes acute. In popular culture, the subject was a popular with authors and film-makers, the best known including the book On the Beach (1957) by Neville Shute (1899-1960) and the memorable film Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964), based on the novel Red Alert (1958) by Peter George (1924–1966).  The US government made many preparations for such an event, notably building vast underground facilities where essential personnel (members of the administration, the Congress, their families and servants) could live until it was safe for them to emerge into the post-apocalypse world and stake claim to whatever habitable real-estate remained.  The taxpayers who paid for these facilities were of course rather less protected but the government in 1952 did install warning sirens in cities; people might still be vaporized by comrade Stalin's (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) H-Bombs but they would know what was coming so there was that.

US war-room film set for Stanley Kubrick's (1928-1999) film version of Dr Strangelove.  Upon becoming president in 1981, Ronald Reagan (1911-2004, POTUS 1981-1989) was reported as being disappointed nothing quite so dramatic actually existed, the White House's “Situation Room” something like what would be used by an insurance company to conduct sales training seminars.  The story is thought likely apocryphal but there is documentary evidence Mr Reagan did sometimes confuse historic fact with what he's seen in movies.

The early version of the warning siren was co-developed by Chrysler and Bell Labs and named CBVS (Chrysler Bell Victory Siren) which, given the consequences of nuclear war, seems at least optimistic.  Technically, although the acoustic properties met the specification, the drawback was the devices manually were activated and controlled, requiring someone physically to be on-location to start the thing and, being directional, rotate it so the sound would be broadcast 360^o.  The obvious flaw in that was, were  there to be a nuclear attack in the area, the job-description, at least potentially, was self-sacrificial, something comrade Stalin doubtless would have thought just the part of the cost of war with the unfortunate patriotic soul posthumously to be awarded the coveted Герой Советского Союза (Hero of the Soviet Union) decoration.  However, neither the White House or the Pentagon liked the optics and revised specifications for the sirens were issued.

Photograph by Rob Storms of Chrysler Air Raid Siren atop Rochester Fire Department Maintenance Building, Rochester, Monroe County, New York.

Chrysler's engineers responded with a more elaborate device, automated and remotely administrated; because it was developed wholly in-house, the corporate-themed acronym CARS (Chrysler Air Raid Siren) was coined.  Introduced in 1952, the new design was powered by Chrysler’s new, 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre) Hemi-head V8, rated at what was then a stellar 180 HP (134 kW), a three-stage compressor added to increase output.  Instead of demanding a doomed operator, there was a control panel connected (with nothing more than the two-pair copper cables that became familiar as Cat3 “phone-wire”) to dedicated phone lines so it could be activated either by local civil defense authorities or the military.  The big V8 provided sufficient power to both increase the dB and the geographical coverage, the siren able to be heard over an area of some 15.8 square miles (41 km²), an impressive number given the electric sirens used today for tornado and tsunami warnings have an effective footprint of only some 3.9 square miles (10 km²).

Chrysler Air Raid Siren being delivered on the back of a Dodge flatbed truck, 1953.

In 1952, there was no engine better suited to the task than Chrysler’s new “FirePower” Hemi V8.  Applying their wartime experience building a number of high-output, multi-cylinder engines (the most remarkable a V16 aero-engine rendered obsolete by jet technology before it could be used), the FirePower featured hemispherical combustion chambers and was the corporation’s first use of OHV (overhead valves) in passenger vehicle engines.  Both OHV and hemispherical combustion chambers had been around for decades but, before long, Chrysler would make a (trade-marked) fetish of “Hemi”, continuing cheerfully to use the name for a range of V8s introduced in 2003 even though they no longer used a true hemi-head, the design unable to be adapted to meet modern exhaust emission laws.  The so-called “third generation” Hemi remains available still although how long it will last will be a matter of the interplay of politics and demand.  Doubtless, it’s on Greta Thunberg’s (b 2003) long (and expanding) hit-list and that she and the engine arrived on planet Earth in the same year won't much impress her.

Chrysler FirePower 392 cubic inch (6.4 litre) V8 in 1957 Chrysler 300C Convertible.  In the jargon, the pair of four barrel carburetors were dubbed  “dual quads”.

First sold in 1950, the FirePower appeared first as a 331, growing over the decade to 354 (5.8) and then 392 (6.4) before being retired in 1959, the wedge-headed alternative with increased displacement a cheaper path to power (the hemi heads needing special machining and the valve-train was heavy and labor-intensive to assemble).  Chrysler and Imperial shared the engines but remarkably, in an approach that would today shock accountants and efficiency experts, the companion divisions (De Soto & Dodge) produced nine different hemi-head V8s with capacities between 241 (4.0) and 345 (5.6) with relatively little commonality of components between them all.  The last of the FirePowers were noted also for being one of the first engines offered with electronic fuel injection (built with analogue components) but while that offered real advantages over the mechanical systems then available in a handful of models in Europe and the US, the technology was then too fragile to be reliable and most of the 16 sold (reputedly all but one) were recalled and retro-fitted with a pair of faithful four barrel carburetors.  In 1964, the hemi-head was revived for a racing engine and, to satisfy the regulatory body that had been unimpressed with the use of such a thing in a series for “stock” cars, it was made available to the public between 1966-1971, this time called “Street Hemi”.  In 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) form, it gained a reputation Chrysler would exploit for decades after production ended.

Some 350 CARS were built, all by the Chrysler's M&I (Marine & Industrial Engine Division, based in Trenton, Michigan) with some maintained in service as late as the 1970s.  During the era of détente, the last were retired, some sold to museums or collectors while other were just abandoned because, mounted atop tall buildings to maximize their acoustic coverage, the cost of removal far exceeded their value as units to be re-purposed or scraped.  At least three fully functional CARS still exist, one in a remote part of Texas where it’s safe to stage the occasional demonstration of the sound.  During these displays, the clear zone (minimum safe distance) extends outwards 320 feet (97.5 metres) but even at this range, anyone standing directly in front of the projection horns would find the experience uncomfortable, prolonged exposure risking some damage to the eardrums.  Although directional, there’s much “sound soak” in the device's proximity so just operating the siren from the side control panel requires hearing protection (acoustic earmuffs rated at a minimum 30 dB).

CARS at the Don Garlits Museum of Drag Racing, re-awakened after decades, 1997.

One collector attracted to them was Don Garlits (b 1932) who, in the post-war years, was among the most innovative and successful drivers and builders in the then wildly popular sport of drag-racing and it was with highly-modified Chrysler Hemis (the HP (horsepower) of which would come to be generated in thousands) he built his reputation.  In 1997, a documentary crew from the UK visited Garlits and saw one of the old CARS sitting neglected in the storeroom where it’d sat for decades after having spent some 20 years in salt-laden air atop a Florida high-rise.  Remarkably, after doing little more than connecting a battery and checking the oil and coolant, once a carburetor had been bolted on with a can of gas (petrol) rigged up, it started almost immediately, a reasonable achievement given it had never before run on gasoline because the CARS always used propane.  As Garlits over the decades had discovered a ¼ mile (402 metres) at a time, the FirePower Hemi was a tough old thing.

The Siren Suit

Weldon pattern for siren suit, 1940.  Home-made clothes used to be common and wartime conditions made the practice spike.  The production and distribution of patterns was a significant industry, enduring, at a smaller scale, to this day.

Unrelated to the seductive Sirens of mythology, the “siren suit” was a World War II (1939-1945) era coining describing a garment “ideal to wear when there was a risk of an air-raid siren sounding”.  The design wasn’t new; they would have been familiar to previous generations as the “overalls” mechanics and such wore to protect their clothing from oil and dirt, the novelty being the application.  Because “the Blitz” (the bombing campaign against London and other English cities waged by the Luftwaffe (the German Air Force) in 1940-1941) was conducted at night, that meant air-raid sirens were most likely to sound when people were in bed and the attraction of the “overall-like” siren suit was it could be worn over nightwear (pyjamas, nighties and such), meaning that upon being wakened by the siren, time would not be wasted getting dressed before rushing off to seek shelter; all one need to put on was one’s shoes.  With wool, silk & cotton supplies being diverted to military production, recycled blends using the more available rayon came increasingly to be used and the versatility of the synthetic made it popular; available in a variety of weights, unlike fabrics made from natural fibres, it was not subject to creasing or shrinkage.  In 1940, the most commonly requested feature was a “hood” and these came to be included on many, often with a lining for additional warmth.  Stylistically and conceptually, the siren suit can thus be imagined as a “proto-onesie”, one of the twenty-first century’s more controversial garments, not so much for what is it (warm, comfortable, convenient) but for where some choose to frequent while wearing one (Walmart, fast food outlets and such).

Wartime individualism, circa 1941: Despite wartime privations, fashion sense didn’t die and ways were found to individualize even the most starkly functional items.

As this publicity shot indicates, gas-masks were in the UK of 1940 a piece of compulsory kit for civilians, the use of poison gas expected by many in politics and the military.  Ironically, of all the leaders in the era, it was only Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) who was enthusiastic about the use of gas as a weapon, thinking it ideal to deploy on beaches in the event of an amphibious assault by the Wehrmacht (the German military (1935-1945)).  Even Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) explicitly ruled out the use of poison gas, despite the Germans also holding large stocks.  Although in 1918 Hitler had learned of Germany’s capitulation when in hospital recovering from the temporary blindness suffered after being gassed, his unwillingness to use gas was not a humanitarian gesture but because the unpredictability of the wind (in Europe the “westerly” (ie from west to east) the prevailing type) made use too risky.

As a unisexual style, by 1940, the siren suit wouldn’t have been too shocking a challenge to the fashion police.  Although the tradition is longer still, in the West, women routinely (if not universally) had been wearing “trousers” since the mid-nineteenth century (for sport, work & leisure, the light and convenient “pyjama-suit” welcomed by many) and, during World War I (1914-1918), as in increasing numbers they entered the industrial workforce to replace men conscripted for military service, the sheer functionality of trousers was compelling (and often, for safety reasons, compulsory); women in overalls became commonplace.  Given the purpose, the early siren suits (the less pleasing “blitz suit” never catching on) were designed with little in mind except comfort, warmth and speed in donning so most were fastened with a zip though the photographic record confirms buttons or snap-fittings were also used, mass-production made immediately possible because they could be sewed on the same lines used to make overalls.  Winston Churchill often was photographed in his siren suit and while that promoted use, it also confirmed the style was not “slimming”.  Even more than overalls, siren suits seem to have featured generously-sized pockets, a thoughtful addition permitting those disturbed from their slumber quickly to stash valuables and the essentials needed for a few hours in an air-raid shelter while retaining the recommended “hands-free” status.  Coincidentally, the siren suit fitted in with the wartime “fashion zeitgeist” the rationing of fabrics and other materials imposing on clothing simplicity and a reduction in bulk.  Even after that economic imperative had faded, that simplicity would remain influential in the post-war years, most obviously in the minimalist movement, effects achieved with severe cuts rather than fussy embellishments.

Winston Churchill (left) in siren suit with comrade Stalin (right), the Kremlin, Moscow, August 1942.

The prime minister had earlier worn the same Siren suit on a visit to the White House to meet Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, POTUS 1933-1945) and it was much admired, the FLOTUS (Eleanor Roosevelt (1884–1962; FLOTUS 1933-1945) even saying she’d like to have one made for her husband, if “…the wool shortage” would allow it.  Decades later, during his visit to Washington DC, Volodymyr Zelenskyy (b 1978, President of Ukraine since 2019) found his similar sartorial choice not as well-received.  According to Churchill, even before the war he’d been inspired by the “coveralls” worn by coal miners to commission the London tailors Turnbull & Asser to create a bespoke one for him, finding it just the thing to wear when enjoying his hobby of painting.  Upon the country being threatened by bombing, he ordered several, his specifications recorded in the company’s archives: “Generously cut, with two breast pockets, a zip fastening, roomy side pockets, a belt and pleats to the front of the trousers.”  To suit their client’s whims, Turnbull & Asser made them in various fabrics including the same pinstripe as some of his suits, a durable serge twill and one in a velvet of striking emerald green, still on display in their London store.  There’s nothing to suggest he ever worn one made from utilitarian rayon.

Tuft

Tuft (pronounced tuhft)

(1) A bunch or cluster of small, usually soft and flexible parts, as feathers or hairs, attached or fixed closely together at the base and loose at the upper ends.

(2) A cluster of short, fluffy threads, used to decorate cloth, as for a bedspread, robe, bath mat, or window curtain.

(3) A cluster of cut threads, used as a decorative finish attached to the tying or holding threads of mattresses, quilts, upholstery, etc.

(4) To furnish or decorate with a tuft or tufts; to arrange in a tuft or tufts.

(5) In the upholstery trade, to draw together (a cushion or the like) by passing a thread through at regular intervals, the depressions thus produced being usually ornamented with tufts or buttons.  Tufts are not merely decorative because they secure and strengthen mattresses, quilts, cushions etc; they act to hinder the movement of the stuffing.

(6) In botany, a small clump of trees or bushes.

(7) A gold tassel on the cap once worn by titled undergraduates at English universities, one of the more blatant class identifiers if the UK’s class system; the word tuft was also applied to those entitled to wear such as tassel and from this use evolved the slang "toff".

1350-1400: From the Middle English toft & tofte (bunch of soft and flexible things fixed at the base with the upper ends loose), an alteration of earlier tuffe (which endures in the Modern English tuff), from the Old French touffe, tuffe, toffe & tofe (tuft of hair (and source of the modern French touffe)), from the Late Latin tufa (a crest on a helmet (also found in Late Greek toupha) and probably of Germanic origin (the Old High German was zopf and the Old Norse was toppr (tuft, summit).  The earlier European forms were the Old English þūf (tuft), the Old Norse þúfa (mound), the Swedish tuva (tussock; grassy hillock), from the Proto-Germanic þūbǭ (tube) & þūbaz.  It was akin to the Latin tūber (hump, swelling) and the Ancient Greek τῡ́φη (tū́phē) (cattail (used to stuff beds)).  The excrescent t (as in against) was an English addition and tuft was used as a verb from the 1530s.  In some contexts, bunch, cluster, collection, cowlick, group, knot, plumage, ruff, shock, topknot & tussock can impart a similar meaning but tuft is better for its specific purpose.  Tuft & tufting are nouns & verbs, tufted is a verb & adjective, tufter is a noun, tuftier & tuftiest are adjectives, tufty is a noun & adjective and tuftily is an adverb; the noun plural is tufts.

Little Miss Muffet in Hell (left) and with MWC's (Motor Wheel Corporation) Spyder wheel (right).  Because the use by European manufacturers lent the spelling "spyder with a y" a tinge of the exotic, it was used in US commerce, MWC of Lansing Michigan dubbing one of their "jellybean style" wheels thus.  The wheel, produced in the early 1970s, used the then popular technique of combining a styled aluminum center with a chromed steel rim.  MWC's wheels were highly regarded for quality and the Spyder was produced for use with disc or drum brakes.  Note the latter day Little Miss Muffet's strategic positioning of the tip of the tongue.

MWC's Spyder in its native environment: 1969 Ford Cobra Hardtop 428 Super Cobra Jet four-speed (one of 531 that year built in that configuration).

Introduced in 1969, the two-door Cobra (available as a notchback hardtop or Sportsroof (a two hardtop with a fastback roofline designed with the NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) ovals where speeds were beginning to approach 200 mph (320 km/h)) was based on the intermediate platform and although the “Torino” name had in 1968 been introduced as an “upmarket Fairlane”, Ford only ever marketed the car as the “Ford Cobra” but despite that, subsequently it became common for it to be referred to as the “Fairlane Cobra” or “Torino Cobra”.  Ford muddied the waters by calling the Fairlane-based Sportsroofs used in NASCAR as “Torinos” and, although the cars used on the circuits were, like the Cobras, fitted with 7.0 litre V8s, they used either a 427 cubic inch “FE” (Ford-Edsel) unit or a 429 from the “385” (based on the 3.85 inch (98 mm) length of the stroke of the “base-line” 460 cubic inch (7.6 litre) version) family while the Cobras had some flavor of the 428 Cobra Jet.  The 428 Cobra Jet had been introduced in 1967 as a low-cost path to power and was built with drag racing in mind.  Although also from the FE family, the 428 was very different and didn’t include the many features (including cross-bolted main-bearings, the more oversquare configuration and the prioritized lubrication system) that had made the 427 so robust in the most demanding forms of competition (ie, those involving also turning corners).  By contrast, the “mix & match” 428 was more suited to low-cost mass-production and needed to endure only the stresses induced by travelling rapidly down drag strips a ¼-mile at a time.  That could of course be a mechanically extreme experience and blown engines were not uncommon but, in a straight line, a 428 Cobra Jet had a better life expectancy than would have been the case had it been run in an event like the Le Mans 24 Hour.

MWC Spyder on 1969 Ford Cobra Hardtop 428 Super Cobra Jet.

A whiff so scandal attaches to the 428 Cobra Jet and had the suffix been in use in 1968 when it debuted, the headlines would have been: “Cobra Jetgate”.  Ford rated the hotted-up 428 Cobra Jet at 335 HP (the mild-mannered versions used effortlessly to propel a luxury car like the Thunderbird was rated at 345!) and, at the time, the NHRA (National Hot Rod Association) allocated vehicles into classes based on a manufacturer’s rating so Ford’s team of six 428 Cobra Jet Mustangs at that year’s NHRA Winternationals proved dominant, winning several trophies, including the prestigious Super Stock Eliminator title.  Suddenly aware they’d been gamed, the HHRA cracked down, issuing their own ratings.  By 1969, Ford Cobra buyers could choose from the Cobra Jet or SCJ (Super Cobra Jet), the latter with strengthened internal components and an external oil-cooler; it was a single purpose vehicle available only with final-drive ratios of 3.91:1 or 4.30:1, gearing ideal for drag strips but few other places.  By then the FE was at the end of it development potential for passenger vehicles and although production continued into 1970 for the specially-configured “law-enforcement package”, emphasis switched to the 429 but its career as a high performance unit was short-lived as geopolitics and economics saw the universe shift.  The Boss 429 (1969-1970) and 429 SCJ (1969-1971) were the swansong of Ford’s original high-performance big block V8s. 

The 1550s noun tuffet (little tuft) was from the Old French touffel (the diminutive suffix -et replacing the French -el) which was a diminutive of touffe.  In English the word is obsolete except for the use in the nursery rhyme Little Miss Muffet which seems first to have appeared in print in 1805 although it (and variations) may have been circulating much earlier.  Etymologists believe Little Miss Muffet’s tuffet was a grassy hillock or a small knoll in the ground (a variant spelling of an obsolete meaning of tuft).  The latter-day use to refer to a hassock or footstool is an example of how (usually obscure) words can acquire meanings if erroneous definitions are often repeated and come to serve some purpose.  Tuffet for example became a favorite of antique dealers who are apt to call both footstools and low seats “tuffets”, a handy practice perhaps when provenance is doubtful 

The 1550s noun tuffet (little tuft) was from the Old French touffel (the diminutive suffix -et replacing the French -el) which was a diminutive of touffe.  In English the word is obsolete except for the use in the nursery rhyme Little Miss Muffet which seems first to have appeared in print in 1805 although it (and variations) may have been circulating much earlier.  Etymologists believe Little Miss Muffet’s tuffet was a grassy hillock or a small knoll in the ground (a variant spelling of an obsolete meaning of tuft).  The latter-day use to refer to a hassock or footstool is an example of how (usually obscure) words can acquire meanings if erroneous definitions are often repeated and come to serve some purpose.  Tuffet for example became a favorite of antique dealers who are apt to call both footstools and low seats “tuffets”, a handy practice perhaps when provenance is doubtful.

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
There came a big spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

Those whose fear of spiders (and other arachnids, such as scorpions and ticks) is so severe as to adversely affect normal life are said to be arachnophobic.  Although one of the most commonly described anxiety disorders, in the current edition (DSM-5-TR) of the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), arachnophobia is not a diagnostic category but is classified as a sub-type of Specific Phobia, Animal Type, a clinical diagnosis typically described as “Specific Phobia, Animal Type (spiders)”.  The DSM’s criteria for a specific phobia include (1) marked fear or anxiety about a specific object or situation, (2) immediate fear response on exposure, (3) active avoidance or intense distress, (4) fear disproportionate to the actual danger, (5) persistence (typically 6+ months) and (6) and clinically significant impairment or distress.  So, one who merely is not fond of spiders would not meet the DSM’s criteria; the fear must be severe enough to impair functioning or cause substantial distress over at least six months.  The irony is that as well as most spiders being small, non-venomous and not at all anxious to attack humans, co-existing with them and their webs in most cases will improve quality of life by culling the insect population.  For those not convinced, arachnophobia can be treated by a number of therapies including (1) systematic desensitization (a gradual exposure to the source of the distress), (2) the adoption of “calming techniques” which can lower the distress response and (3) CBT (cognitive behaviour therapy), a structured, goal-oriented form of psychotherapy focusing on identifying and changing negative or dysfunctional thought patterns and behaviours.  The estimates vary but all research indicates well under 10% of the global population suffer arachnophobia to the extent a clinician would diagnose with women being significantly more affected.

Tufted furnishings aficionado Lindsay Lohan on tufted leather sofa (left) and in bed with tufted bedhead (right).

Critics of interior design tend not to approve of padded or tufted headboards and the shinier or more pillowy the effect, the greater will be the disparagement.  Such critics probably tend to prefer a minimalist aesthetic and condemn anything which doesn’t conform as outdated, excessive or just in poor taste but that aside, there are practical reasons to avoid the padding because the material can over time collect dust, dirt, and oils, something of concern to allergy sufferers.  The designs can also provide hiding places for the dreaded bed bugs.  Still, there are some who like the “generic luxury hotel room” look and argue they’re a kind of safety feature, banging one’s head on some tufted padding a less troubling event than an impact with one of Ikea’s hard, flat surfaces.  Like any bed, there are advantages and drawbacks, some thing made more comfortable, some close to impossible.

Nobleman in full dress at Cambridge (1815) with golden tuft.

The noun toff began as mid nineteenth century lower-class London slang for "a stylish dresser, a man of the smart set".  It was an alteration of tuft, which was a mid-eighteenth century English university (Oxford & Cambridge) term for students who were members of the aristocracy, a reference to the gold ornamental tassel (or tufts) worn on the academic caps (mortarboards) of undergraduates.  Throughout the “long eighteenth century” (a historian’s term which refers for the epoch running from the Glorious Revolution of 1688 to the Congress of Vienna in 1815 (the “long nineteenth” being 1815-1914 and the “long twentieth” 1914-2001 (ie 9/11))), undergraduates at both Oxford and Cambridge were differentiated into four classes: (1) noblemen, (2) gentlemen, (3) commoner-scholars (fellow-commoners at Cambridge) & (4) servitors (sometimes known at Cambridge as sizars and at Oxford as battelers).  Each of these classes of undergraduates was entitled to a different form of dress, noblemen since 1490 (further clarified in 1576) entitled to wear silk and brocaded gowns of bright colors. Such rich materials emphasized noble status, as did the costly dyes. The gowns had flap collars, Tudor bag sleeves with gold lace decorations (akin to the black lace decorations used today on Oxford gimp gowns) and a velvet round cap with a gold tassel (or tuft) was worn.  Noblemen were technically (if misleadingly) nobiles minorum gentium and included the sons of bishops, knights and baronets and, by resolution of Convocation, could include heirs of esquires.

The right to wear the golden tuft was briefly restricted to those with fathers entitled to sit in the House of Lords while those less blue-blooded were allowed only to a plain black tassel but things gradually became less exclusive until the practice was abandoned in the late nineteenth century but the transfer of sense was inevitable: wearers of golden tufts came to be known as tufts.  Those toadies or sycophants (and there were many) who were slavish followers of the tufts were tufthunters and their antics, tufthunting, such individuals and their habits quite identifiable to this day.  By the 1850s, under the influence of the cockney accent, the word had been transformed into toff (some dictionaries of slang noting toft co-existed in the 1850s but this may have been a mishearing) which endures to refer to anyone rich and powerful although the original sense was of someone apparently well-bred.

1912 Stutz Bear Cat (1912-1934); after 1913 they would be dubbed Bearcat (left) and 1915 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost (Chassis 2BD, 40/50; 1906-1926) limousine by H.A. Hamshaw (right).

One of the fastest and most admired American cars of the early era, the Stutz Bearcat assumed such a place in popular culture, it was was claimed that should anyone die (except by suicide) at the wheel of a Stutz Bearcat, they were granted an obituary in the New York Times (NYT).  Wholly apocryphal, the origin of the romantic myth is thought to be related to the Bearcat being a symbol of wealth, adventure, and daring, owned by the sort of chaps (such a lifestyle at the time was most associated with men although women adventurers were not unknown) who would likely anyway warrant an NYT obituary.  The Bear Cat's tufted leather upholstery was typical (though not universal) of the high priced automobiles of the time although already, elaborate fabrics were appearing in vehicles with enclosed passenger compartments which afforded protection from the elements.  The appointments of 1915 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost were opulent even by the coachbuilding standards of the day (the Edwardian traditions still maintained) but the chauffeur's compartment lacked a roof (the body style really a Sedanca de Ville as were many of the early English "limousines") so was still trimmed in tufted leather.  The more sheltered passengers enjoyed carved ivory door handles, beveled glass windows, cut crystal lamps, an inlaid wood folding table, two jump seats, and door pockets, communications to the chauffeur via a tubular intercom.  The lavish upholstery in the rear was tufted, beige West-of-England cloth with embroidered silk window pulls and trim-work, including rear compartment shades and sliding divider although what usually attracts most comment is the elegant, pleated, cloth rosette headliner with its cloudlike billows.   To make journeys more pleasant, a set of leather-wrapped flasks was mounted in the right rear armrest.

1908 Hotchkiss 16-20 hp Type T Roi des Belges (King of the Belgians) Touring Car with tufted red leather (right) and 1917 Packard Twin Six Touring Car with channel tufted black leather (left).  The term “touring car” was never exactly defined and use varied between UK & US manufacturers but typically it described a large, four-door, 4-6 seat open car, supplied with a folding top and (usually optional) temporary side curtains.  The style went extinct but did fork into the phaeton (no top or side-windows) and the four-door cabriolet (or convertible) (a folding top and retractable side windows).  However, even by the 1930s, the old coachwork terms from the days of horse-drawn vehicles had come to be used with such imprecision the descriptions were sometimes little more than vaguely indicative and in the post-war years they meant whatever manufacturers at the time wanted them to mean.

In the matter of upholstery, the word “tufted” has long been synonymous with “deep buttoned” but in the early days of the automobile. Coach-builders and upholsters would offer the option of “channel tufted” trim which essentially was “tufting without the buttons” although it seems almost always to have been executed only with parallel seams (ie nothing on the diagonal).  Probably because what would now be understood as a “pleated” style was more comfortable for sitting on in a moving object, it became popular in the 1920s.  Of course, what the machinists called the “straight tuck-roll” technique was less labour intensive and used smaller quantities of materials so interiors could be trimmed at lower cost so the incentive was there to make the switch.  The revival of button-tufting in the late twentieth century was not an exercise in mere nostalgia but an expression of conspicuous consumption, the “obviously expensive” look making tufting in the big US cars something of a Veblen good.   

1972 Oldsmobile Ninety Eight Regency advertising.

Tufted leather upholstery was common in early automobiles, the seating often exactly the same as those used in horse-drawn carriages, houses or commercial buildings (and certainly gentlemen's clubs).  The practice faded as production volumes increased and as early as the late 1920s was coming to be restricted to only the most expensive models.  This exclusivity tended to prevail until 1972 when Oldsmobile introduced the Regency option for its full-sized Ninety-Eight (sometimes as "98") models, a package, the visual highlight of which was tufted "loose-pillow" velour upholstery (although unlike the use in furniture where the "pillows" were detachable for cleaning, in the Ninety-Eight they were fixed permanently to the seats.  Suddenly, solidly middle-class Oldsmobile (right in the middle of General Motors’ (GM) five-step (Chevrolet-Pontiac-Oldsmobile-Buick-Cadillac) hierarchy; the so-called "Slone ladder" designed to both facilitate and encourage "upward automotive mobility" conceived by Alfred P Sloan (1875–1966;  president of General Motors (GM) 1923-1937 and Chairman of the Board 1937-1946)) had brought both velour and loose-pillow seating to the masses.  The velour was at the time admired by most buyers (though derided by some critics of design) and as tufted upholstery began to proliferate in the industry it was usually offered as a cheaper alternative to leather.  In some climates the velour was probably the better choice and was welcomingly comfortable although in some of the more strident shades of red could recall the popular idea of how a bordello might be furnished.  Presumably, those who'd never enjoyed a visit to a bordello were more disconcerted than regular customers.

1974 Imperial LeBaron four-door hardtop (left) in chestnut tufted leather though not actually “rich Corinthian leather” which was (mostly) exclusive to the Cordoba (1975-1983) until late 1975 when not only did the Imperial's brochures mention "genuine Corinthian leather (available at extra cost)" but for the first time since 1954 the range was referred to as the "Chrysler Imperial", a harbinger the brand was about to be retired.  Imperial's advertising copy noted of the brochure photograph above: “...while the passenger restraint system with starter interlock is not shown, it is standard on all Imperials.”; the marketing types didn't like seat-belts messing up their photos, reminding people cars sometimes crash.  While all of the big three (GM, Ford & Chrysler) had tufted interiors in some lines, it was Chrysler which displayed the most commitment to the motif.

1977 Chrysler (Australia) Valiant Regal SE.

In the era, Chrysler's Australian outpost did cut a few corners when implementing the “pillowed look”, economies achieved by (1) using fewer buttons for the tufting of the fabric or optional leather and (2) attaching the tufted “feature sections” directly to the cushion squab rather than creating an emulated “pillowed” look which appeared to sit atop the structure.  Even by the time of the release of the CL range (1976-1978) the feeling was the writing was on the wall for the once popular Australian Valiant (1962-1981) and the top-of-the-line Regal SE was created in the time-honored Q&D (quick & dirty) way by including all the less Regal’s options as standard equipment; only the tufted upholstery and optional leather was unique to the model.  Sales were modest but there remained devoted following for the Valiant which was durable enough to endure the sometimes harsh environment and it was highly regarded for its towing capabilities, equipped either with the lusty locally-developed 265 cubic inch (4.3 litre) straight-6 or the imported 318 cubic inch (5.2 litre) V8.  Built on the US A-body platform, when production ended in 1981 it had lasted a half-decade longer than the Plymouth and Dodge versions sold in the home market and only in Mexico would use continue until 1988.

1974 Cadillac Fleetwood Talisman.

Oldsmobile's move was as audacious and influential as Ford’s introduction in 1965 of the up-market LTD which, like the Regency package, had the effect of cannibalizing sales from other divisions within the same corporation.  Cadillac, although with a range priced considerably above Oldsmobile, offered nothing with such an ostentatious interior though when it did in 1974 respond with its Talisman package (1974-1976), it made sure it did so with more tufted extravagance still, in 1974 offering leather as well as velour.  The trend the Regency package started would last over twenty years and is remembered especially for the tufted fittings used in Imperials, Chryslers and Dodges, the hides used in the Cordoba range (1975-1983) said to be "rich Corinthian leather", an advertising agency creation which meant nothing in particular but sounded vaguely European and therefore expensive.

1985 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz (left), 1977 Chrysler New Yorker Brougham (centre) and 1989 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham d' Elegance (right).

Color choice made a big difference to the perception of the "tufted look", more subdued hues like green and blue less confronting than the "bordello red" which became emblematic of the industry's phase.  Cadillac called the fabric in the Fleetwood Talisman "Medici crushed velour" which had about the same relationship to historic truth as "fine Corinthian leather" but the package sold well over the three seasons it was offered, despite the option costing almost as much (and the leather significantly more) as some new cars.  Among collectors, the holy grail is a 1974 Fleetwood Talisman trimmed in blue leather; although it was on the option list, none has ever been sighted and the factory's records don't breakdown production between the blue and the alternative "medium saddle" (a medium tan), some of which have been verified.