Pamphlet

Pamphlet (pronounced pam-flit)

(1) A complete publication, of undefined length with fewer pages than the shortest books (typically, 10-40 pages) and usually stitched or stapled with a paper or soft-cardboard cover (although the very early pamphlets tended to be unbound).

(2) A short treatise or essay, generally a controversial tract on some subject of contemporary interest, historically most associated with a political position.

(3) A kind of precursor newspaper containing literary compositions, advertisements and news (archaic).

(4) A brief handwritten work (obsolete) except in some university clubs and societies.

(5) To print (always rare and now obsolete) or distribute pamphlets (obsolete).

1375–1425: From the late Middle English pamphlet & pamphilet, from the earlier pamflet (brief written text; poem, tract, small book), from the Middle French pamphilet (influenced by the Anglo-Latin pamfletus, panfletus & paunflettus (short written text), a syncopated variant of Pamphiletus, diminutive of the twelfth century Medieval Latin Pamphilus, the short form of Pamphilus, seu de Amore (about love), a brief Latin erotic poem (Pamphilus the protagonist) that was popular and widely copied in the Middle Ages (it inspired also a number of comedies for the stage).  The name came from the Ancient Greek Πάμφιλος (Pámphilos), literally “beloved by all”), the construct being pan- (all) + philos (loving, dear).  Because the poems and dramatic works were issued in the short, easily carried format ideally suited to political or other statements, the widely circulated pamphlets lent their name to the whole phenomenon which, as a form of distribution can be imagined as the tweets or TikTok clips of their time.

The meaning once so associated with the word (brief work dealing with questions of current interest; short treatise or essay, generally controversial, on some topical subject) dates from the late sixteenth century, a time when for social and technological reasons, such publications became suddenly popular.  The noun pamphleteer (a writer of pamphlets) emerged in the 1640s and was applied even to activists who merely supported what was advocated, regardless of their involvement in distribution.  From that noun, by the 1690s, came the verb, used in the sense of “to write and issue pamphlets”.  The spellings pamphlette & pamphleter are functionally extinct.  The word pamphlet was adopted unchanged in French, German and Italian while in Spanish the form was Spanish: panfleto and in Portuguese panfleto.  Pamphlet, pamphleteering & pamphleteer are nouns & verbs, pamphletry & pamphleting are nouns, verb & adjective, pamphletful & pamphletism are nouns, pamphleteered & pamphletize, pamphletizes & pamphletizing are verbs, pamphletary & pamphletic are adjectives and pamphletwise is an adverb; the noun plural is pamphlets (pamphleteers has become rare since the predominant meaning shift from polemics to information although some political scientists are fond).

Areopagitica; A speech of Mr. John Milton for the Liberty of Unlicenc'd Printing, to the Parlament of England (1644).  A slim work of 30 pages, long titles were then a thing for pamphlets.  Areopagitica (the title references both the democratic traditions of Ancient Greece and the words of Saint Paul in the New Testaments Book of Acts (17:18-34)) was written in prose and was one of the more influential pamphlets extolling the virtues of the principle of freedom of speech and expression.

The pamphlet was the platform of choice for many writers noted for the vigor of their religious or political views including Sir Thomas More (1478–1535), William Tyndale (circa 1494–1536), Gerrard Winstanley (circa 1609–1676), John Milton (1608–1674), Daniel Defoe (circa 1660–1731), Thomas Dekker (circa 1572–1632), Jonathan Swift (1667–1745), Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822), and the many nineteenth century Chartists.  In this form, it was in England the pamphlet first flourished because unlike in much of Europe, censorship by the state was less restrictive and the power of the churches diminished.  Still, authors did need to be careful and after making the mistake of travelling to Europe where priests still held sway, Tyndale was convicted of heresy and strangled while tied to the stake, actually a merciful act because his body was burned only after death.  In France, the turbulent years of revolutions, empire and wars (1789-1848) were also the “pamphlet decades”, the streets a “battleground of ideas” as well as barricades and bayonets.

The Federalist Papers (Signet Classics edition, 2003) with an introduction, textual notes and a select bibliography by US political scientist Charles R. Kesler (b 1956); since 1788, the book has never been out-of-print.  As well as the obvious importance as a historic document, the contents are of interest if contrasted in content and breadth of ambition with current political discourse.

Among the most famous pamphlets are a few dozen which are remembered not in their original format but as the compilation into which they were assembled for publication the book The Federalist Papers (1788).  The Federalist Papers were literally that, 85 tracts written by Alexander Hamilton (circa 1756-1804), James Madison (1751-1836) and John Jay (1745-1829) and simultaneously in 1787-1788 published in New York newspapers and issued as pamphlets under the pseudonym “Publius”.  The purpose was to encourage ratification of the new US Constitution which had emerged from the Federal Convention in September 1787 and although knowledge of the identity of the authors was widespread, the authors chose “Publius” in a nod to Publius Valerius Publicola, one of the founders of the ancient Roman Republic.  What the pamphleteers wanted was “endorsement by association”; because Publicola translated as “friend of the people” the notion was to link their arguments with republican virtue and the protection of the people from monarchical despotism.

An edition of Some reflections on a pamphlet lately publish'd, entituled, An argument shewing that a standing army is inconsistent with a free government (1697) by Daniel Defoe.

Many of Defoe's pamphlets were not at the time attributed to him although than didn't save him from spending three days in the pillory after political power in the country suddenly shifted.  Nor were most of his novels originally published under his name.  In early eighteenth century England, anonymity was common for those writing novels because prose fiction had neither become “respectable” or solidified as a clearly labeled genre, the objection being the stuff simply wasn’t “true”.  That’s why works like Robinson Crusoe (1719) were marketed as “histories” or “lives”, anonymity helping to sustain the illusion the text was genuine testimony rather than invention.

Meaning shifts in English are not uncommon but the semantic shift of “pamphlet” was an example of a process in which there was first a broadening of use followed by something of a drift rather than a simple replacement. In terms of content, the original sense (which flourished between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries) had nothing to do with the source of the name which came from a Latin love poem which remained popular in the late medieval & early modern period.  Although there were a handful of examples of Pamphilus, seu de Amore which had been “embellished and extended” by opportunist authors, almost all versions were distributed as folios of a few pages and because this length was ideal for presenting political or theological polemics to a public unlikely to read (and, importantly, pay for) full-length books on the topics, these came to be known as “pamphlets” and those writing the overwhelmingly religious and political tracts were thus pamphleteers.  Until well into the eighteenth century, the word “pamphlet” was used for no other purpose than this canonical historical sense but in the 1800s a noticeable broadening happened in the UK which historians link with (1) the economies of scale offered by improvement in industrial printing, (2) rising literacy levels (3) a heightened interest in political matters as a consequence of the franchise being extended by the Reform Acts (1832, 1867 & 1884), (4) a splintering of various religious denominations and (5) the reduction in the cost of distribution (the extension of road and rail systems).

Pamphlet dealing with STIs (sexually transmitted infections) which used to be called STDs (sexually transmitted diseases) or VD (venereal disease).  Note the reassuring pastel hues.

While the interaction of all these forces meant there were more political and religious tracts (ironically, at a time when matters concerning the latter were becoming less controversial), the short, digestible form of the cheaply-produced pamphlet came to have great appeal in commerce so the term came to be used of just about any small, free booklet.  In an indication that while the means of distribution have changed, the strategy has not, the folk paid a tiny sum to stand on the platforms of railway stations and hand out pamphlets to commuters were fulfilling the same task as the algorithms used to deliver advertising to inboxes and web-pages.  Really, only the targeting has much improved but linguistically, this was the crucial shift; from content-focused to format-defined.  Over time, the proliferation of product announcements, catalogues, and advertising subsumed the original meaning but despite that, many etymologists seem to suggest the association of “pamphlets” with “advertising” didn’t become prevalent until the early twentieth century.

What modern targeted-marketing made an effected tool was the “virtual pamphlet” delivered by companies to digital inboxes of all sorts.  What lands in the inbox of one user will have content optimized for what that user’s history suggests will most likely provoke engagement (and hopefully sell stuff) while the user sitting in the adjacent cubicle might receive something with different content.  In the pre-modern days of printed pamphlets, it was a one-size-fits-all approach although even then a primitive form of targeting was possible; the pamphlets a manufacturer might place in a shop selling women’s shoes would likely be different from the stack in the men’s store.  However, as technology improved and costs further fell (two symbiotic forces) the forms of the printed ephemera of commerce proliferated and the documents became variously smaller, larger, thicker, slimmer, glossier and more colourful which demanded a new descriptive language, thus the emergence or re-purposing of “posters”, “catalogues”, “flyers”, “handbills”, “booklets”, “brochures”, “bulletins”, “folders”, “handouts”, “handbills” and “leaflets”.  With this new generation of forms, the idea of the “tract” which was once synonymous with “pamphlet” became separated and restricted to those documents which were still polemics on religion, politics, policy or some other topical matter.  Pamphlet thus didn’t until later become associated with commercial advertising with “brochure” or “catalogue” used for the more polished publications with the highest production values (indeed, auction houses handling high-priced collectables routinely charge for their glossy catalogues) while “leaflet”, “handbill”, “flyer” and such was used of simpler, often single-sheet and sometimes monochrome.  All this meant by the early twentieth century pamphlet had lost the “exclusivity of seriousness”, something exemplified by a heritage running from Jonathan Swift to The Federalist Papers.

Ocala Plastic Surgery and the Wuxi Sweet Fastener Company both sell solutions to problems but just as their products differ, so do the dynamics of their pamphlets.  Whether pamphlet, catalogue, poster or whatever, content can to some extent dictate form and method.  Ocala Plastic Surgery distributes brochures which not only are information-dense about the range of services offered but also includes visual content designed to entice; even the color choices are part of the messaging.  By contract, the Wuxi Sweet Fastener Company is really providing a list of products and specifications with the photography not at all artistic but most informative.  Not being in markets like Victoria's Secrets or Ocala Plastic Surgery, the Wuxi Sweet Fastener Company uses mostly functional black text on a white background with the odd splash of color there just to draw the eye to a corporate logo or heading.

So the word “pamphlet” became “neutral” because it came to describe a printed format with no implication of content, modern pamphlets typically either instructional, containing information or advertising.  That doesn’t mean there are no longer printed documents described as “political pamphlets” but those which still appear in letter-boxes around election time are better thought of as flyers, usually with a photograph of a smiling candidate and the odd TWS (three word slogan).  The content of pamphlets of the type widely circulated centuries ago has now been relegated to essays published in specialized periodicals and for these “long-form” pieces, readers of course have to pay for the privilege.  In that sense, the “pamphlet” is a historic relic sometimes seen in literary use although, curiously, in political science, politicians with a habit of writing pieces beyond a TWS are still sometimes dubbed “pamphleteers”.  One crew which still occasionally hands outs longer tracts in the style of the old religious pamphlets is the Jehovah's Witnesses but they’re something of a rarity, even a dedicated lot like the Falun Gong prone to modernist brevity.  That leaves some other terms to be described:

Tract: A doctrinal or moral argument in small format, a tract now is understood as a (relatively) short written work advancing a specific doctrine or moral argument.  Whether this is in a simple, accessible form or a dense piece littered with jargon likely to be understood only by other specialists in the field is determined not only by the subject but also the place of publication.  A tract discussing troubles in the Middle East will be different in form depending on whether it appears in a tabloid newspaper or a journal like Foreign Affairs, and that’s one aspect of what Marshall McLuhan (1911-1980) explained as “…the medium is the message…” in Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1964).

Broadsheet: Most associated with the now mostly extinct large-form newspaper, the term “broadsheet was used to describe a large-format single sheet for public display.  A broadsheet (broadside also used) could be similar in size to a “poster” and was also a large sheet of paper (or cardboard or other flat surface), printed on one side and designed to be posting in some public place affording wide visibility.  Broadsheets often were used for announcements, news or proclamations by governments and often featured a mix of bold and dense text, woodcut illustrations once a popular inclusion.  The information could include public notices (executions, laws, events, rewards offered for this and that).

Poster for French market release of The Canyons (2013). 

Poster: Although often thought a twentieth century form, the poster is an ancient medium and definitionally it now differs from a broadsheet in that it seeks to convey a message with the use of image rather than text.  Additionally, when text does appear on a poster (and most do include some), especially in the larger formats, it’s often in a stylized form or a typeface which is obviously “artistic”.  The poster is a practical example of the adage “a picture is worth a thousand words” and there have been some memorable eras in posters as graphic art in the twentieth century assumed a previously denied respectability.  In part this was due to the new movements in art (futurism, orphism, cubism etc) being ideally suited to the poster's traditional rectangular aspect but the finest in the genre were probably those in the traditions of art deco, pop art and psychedelia.  Posters, although two-dimensional and static, remain popular appear to have weathered the onset of digital (and may even have benefited from the technology) and it seems likely AI (artificial intelligence) will also be adapted.

Circular: A circular is a document periodically distributed to a targeted, defined audience.  There is no one definition of what a circular looks like, it may be brief or long and come in a variety of (usually smallish) sizes but its core purpose tends to be  the dissemination of informational deemed to be of interest to the audience (or, at least, that in which it’s thought they should be interested).  The classic circulars are now those used for institutional communication (churches great users of the concept).

Victoria’s Secrets catalogue which, on the internet, works as a kind of combination of advertising copy and interactive database.

Catalogue: Catalogues have a long history in modern commerce and the model used by Amazon and such is exactly the same as the old “mail order catalogues” which in the nineteenth century the Americans perfected as a means of distributing goods (via the US Mail) over vast distances.  What has changed is the immediacy; while something ordered through Amazon can land on one’s porch within 24 hours, goods ordered from a mail-order catalogue might not be seen for weeks.  Still, the principle remains the same.  A catalogue is understood as a list of products and that may be as simple as pages of text or accompanied by lavish and tempting illustrations.

Brochure: A brochure is a “puff-piece” and a kind of advertising pamphlet.  A brochure may focus on a single product, a number of products or a manufacturer’s entire range.  Accordingly, a brochure may be a single page or a longer document which is distinguished from a catalogue only in the level of detail tending to be greater.

1961 Ford Galaxie Starliner (left) & 1962 Galaxie with “distinguished hardtop styling” (aka “boxtop”, right)

There are even “fake brochures”.  The aerodynamic qualities the 1960-1961 Ford Galaxie Starliner, possessed by virtue of its gently sloping rear roof-line, generated both speed and stability on the NASCAR (National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing) ovals; that made it a successful race-car but in the showrooms, after some early enthusiasm, sales dropped so it was replaced in 1962 with an implementation of the “formal” style which had been so well-received when used on the Thunderbird.  As the marketing department predicted (or, more correctly, worked out from the results of their focus-group sessions), what they called “distinguished hardtop styling” proved more commercially palatable but while customers may have been seduced, the physics of fluid dynamics didn’t change and the “buffeting” induced at speeds above 140 mph (225 km/h) limited performance, adversely affected straight-line stability (especially when in close proximity to other cars); it also increased fuel consumption, in distance racing especially, something as significant as weight, speed and power.  What the “distinguished hardtop styling” had done was make the Galaxie less competitive on the circuits, the loss of up to 3 mph (5 km/h) in top speed the difference being winning and losing; putting on the lipstick had produced a pig.

Beware of imitations: Images from Ford's 1962 Galaxie Starlift “brochure” which didn't fool the NASCAR scrutineers. 

Quickly to regain the lost aerodynamic advantage, Ford fabricated a handful of detachable fibreglass hard-tops which could be “bolted on”, essentially transforming a Galaxie convertible back into something as slippery (and even a little lighter) as the previous Starliner.  Having no intention of incurring the expense of designing and engineering them to an acceptable consumer standard (which they knew few anyway would buy) Ford simply gave the hand-made plastic roof the name “Starlift”, allocated a part-number and even mocked-up a brochure for NASCAR's officials to read.  Although on paper it appeared a FADC (factory-authorized dealer accessory) like any other (floor-mats, mud flaps etc), an inspection of the device revealed it was obviously phoney, the rear passenger glass on each side not fitting the sloping C-pillar, demanding the use of a pair of tacked-on plastic fillers to close the gap and it was obvious the thing wasn’t close to being waterproof.  Although prepared to turn a blind eye when it suited them, NASCAR thought all this beyond the pale and outlawed the scam.

Triumph Stag magazine advertising: Although conforming to the general specifications of a “flyer” (one page, single side printing, single purpose theme), magazine advertising tended to use the style and techniques of brochures, some would classify this as a “brochure” because of the shared design language.  Because of constraints of space, such advertising usually didn’t contain the wealth of technical details which typically were included in catalogues.

Political campaign flyers: Physical copies printed for crooked Hillary Clinton’s (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) campaign in the New Hampshire Primary seeking the Democratic Party’s nomination for the 2008 US presidential election (left) and a digital template for those supporting Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) in the 2024 US presidential election.  Crooked Hillary’s flyer was distributed by her campaign team; the Trump material was hosted by various Republican-aligned PACs (political action committees).

Flyer, handbill & leaflet: Whether in form or content a flyer, handbill or leaflet differ really doesn’t matter and the three terms are used interchangeably, the choice a function of local practice.  All three imply something small, cheap and “handed-out” (often in the literal sense of someone standing on a street-corner) for some limited, specific purpose (such as a new sushi bar opening around the corner).  The small leaflets came to be known as flyers (the original term in late 1880s US use was “fly-sheet”) on the notion of “made to be scattered around” (ie, the image of stuff “flying around”).  Prior to “flyer” catching on, such papers were called “hand-bills”, that term based on “billboards” (large, poster sized displays) so a handbill was “a bill conveniently held in the hand”.

Absinthe or Absinth

Absinthe or Absinth (pronounced ab-sinth)

(1) A green, aromatic liqueur (alcohol content 45-74%), made with wormwood and other herbs; it has a bitter, liquorice flavour and has from time-to-time been banned in many Western countries.  Technically, because of the high wormwood content, it’s a gin.  The colloquial name was "green fairy".

(2) An alternative name for the herb Artemisia absinthium (grande wormwood); essence of wormwood which correctly should be spelled only absinth).

(3) Bitterness; sorrow (archaic except as a literary or poetic device).

(4) As colors, labeled on color charts as “absinthe green” or “absinthe yellow”, shades on a spectrum from dark to bright.  For commercial purposes , it's sometimes clipped to “absinthe” and the choice between the general descriptors “greenish-yellow” & “yellowish-green” depend on which hue is thought prevalent.

(5) A rare alternative name for the sagebrush (US).

1350-1470: From the French absinthe (essence of wormwood (short for extrait d'absinthe)), from the Latin absinthium (wormwood and a doublet of absinthium), from the Ancient Greek ἀψίνθιον (apsínthion) (wormwood) of uncertain origin although its speculated the source may be a Persian root (spand or aspand, or the variant esfand) which meant Peganum harmala, also called Syrian Rue which, while not actually a variety of rue, is another famously bitter herb.  The alternative etymology is that the genus was named after Queen Artemisia, the wife and sister of Mausolus, ruler of Caria 377–353.  When Mausolus died, he was buried in the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, and traces of the ruins can still be seen at Bodrum in modern-day Türkiye Cumhuriyeti (Republic of Türkiye).  In the Hellenic myths, Ἄρτεμις (Artemis) was  goddess of the hunt, and protector of the forest and children; her equivalent in Roman mythology was Diana.  Absinthe & absinthism are nouns and absinthic is an adjective; the noun plural is absinthes.

Just add water: An absinthe drinker's table with paraphernalia.

The highly alcoholic, anise-flavored liquor originally made from grande wormwood, anise, and other herbs was first distilled in 1842, lending its name to the yellow-green color which became commercially available in the late 1800s.  The early spelling was absinth (which survived longer than absynthe and absenta) and although extinct in English use, absinth remains the spelling variant most commonly applied to varieties of the spirit produced in Central and Eastern Europe; specifically it's associated with Bohemian-style absinthes.  The wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) plant itself has long been figurative of "bitter" sorrow and was known in English as absinth in English from circa 1500; the earlier tradition, drawn from the Old English, used the word in the Latin form.  The drink first gained popularity in Europe after being consumed in some abundance by French soldiers in Algiers and North Africa appears to have been a place with a long fascination with similar drinks, historians noting an association with “magical properties” as far back as ancient Egypt.

Some bottles are sold bundled with a drip spoon and sometimes glasses.  No retailer seems to include sugar cubes.

Before being outlawed in many Western countries in the early twentieth century, it was known colloquially as the green fairy, a “green muse” who would visit to liberate the visions of poets and artists.  The health authorities fretted over the alleged hallucinogenic qualities and, after the usual moral panic, imposed a ban.  Historians of such things suspect the spirit probably didn't induce hallucinations to anywhere near the extent of the legends of the era suggest and that its reputation was probably gained from excessive consumption of mixes with unusually high concentrations of wormwood being sold, the regulation of the content of strong drink paying little attention to anything except the taxable component (alcohol).  However, absinthe (in a strictly regulated form) is again available in Australia and La Fee Absinthe NV Absinthe (700 ml) is available from Cool Wine at Aus$83.95.

Death in the afternoon

Death in the Afternoon, also called The Hemingway or Hemingway Champagne, is a mix of absinthe and Champagne, invented by Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) himself.  The concoction shares its name with a novel from what Zelda Fitzgerald (née Sayre; 1900–1948) called his “bullfighting, bull-slinging, & bullshit” period (Death in the Afternoon (1932)), the recipe published in a 1935 anthology of cocktails with contributions from noted authors. 

(1) Pour one jigger of absinthe into a Champagne glass.

(2) Add iced Champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness.

(3) Drink three to five of these, slowly.

Traditional French Method

(1) Pour a shot (1oz/30ml) of absinthe into a tall, wide rimmed glass.

(2) Rest specially slotted absinthe spoon across top of the glass.

(3) Place a sugar cube atop absinthe spoon.

(4) Slowly drizzle ice-cold water over sugar cube so water is evenly displaced into absinthe until drink is diluted to a ratio between 3:1 and 5:1.

(5) Stir gently and enjoy.

Bohemian Method

(1) Pour a shot (1oz/30ml) of absinthe into a tall, wide rimmed glass.

(2) Put lump of sugar on a spoon and dip it in the absinthe until cube is saturated.

(3) Hold spoon over glass and set the cube alight; it will bubble and caramelize.

(4) When flame has died down, stir sugar into absinthe.

(5) Add iced-water until drink is diluted to a ratio between 3:1 and 5:1.

(6) Stir gently and enjoy.

French purists disapprove of these Bohemian ways, claiming the caramelizing of the sugar impairs the true flavor of absinthe.

Ernest Hemingway wasn’t the only one fond of the green fairy.  Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) is claimed to have said “After the first glass of absinthe you see things as you wish they were. After the second you see them as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.”  He applied his empirical research into the spirit’s psychoactive and degenerative properties in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890-1891) in which the eponymous protagonist takes those staples of decadent Victorian hedonism, opium and absinthe, in seedy places among London's Docklands.

The French poet Paul Verlaine (1844–1896) infamously was fond of absinthe, his lust for the spirit shared with his lover and fellow poet Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891), the pair having a drunken tiff during which Rimbaud was shot, sustaining a minor wound.  After that, Verlaine’s alcoholism worsened and he died in poverty, on his deathbed damning as “the green witch” which governments should ban.  Rimbaud may have been more open-minded, one of his works containing the line: “Wise pilgrims, let us reach / The Absinthe with its green pillars.”  Shortly after being shot, he renounced poetry, briefly serving in the military before deserting to take up a life in commerce.

Kidspattern's deconstruction of Absinthe Green (upper) and Absinthe Yellow (lower).  Curiously (to non-expert eyes), both are listed as a “green”, reflecting the mysterious chemistry used to produce results, the recipes sometimes seemingly counterintuitive.

When water has been added to a glass of absinthe, it’s said to have “been louched”.  Although more familiar as a noun meaning “a somewhat dubious or disreputable person or thing or an adjective used to impart a sense of (1) “questionable taste or morality; the decadent” (2) “neither reputable or decent” or (3) “one unconventional and slightly disreputable in an attractive manner; raffish, rakish” there’s was also the use as a transitive verb meaning “to make an alcoholic beverage cloudy by mixing it with water (due to the presence of anethole)”. Most associated with the louche crowd who drank the green fairy, among chemists and in the industry, louching was known as “the ouzo effect”.  Louche was from the French louche (cross-eyed (now archaic); cloudy; obscure (by extension) and (figuratively) shady; dubious; seedy; shifty), from the Old French lousche, from the Latin lusca, feminine of luscus (one-eyed) and existed in the Italian (of character) as losco and the Portuguese (of vision) as lusco.

Le Buveur d'absinthe (The Absinthe Drinker (1859)) by Édouard Manet (1832-1883).

The first major painting by the French painter Édouard Manet was Le Buveur d'absinthe, a study of an alcoholic rag-picker who frequented the area around the Louvre.  The work caused a stir in polite society because of its seedy realism and the concern at the time about the corrosive effects of absinthe among Parisian bohemians and although there’s nothing to prove Manet was even an occasional drinker of the stuff, he did among some gain the reputation on the basis of "guilt by association".  Very few in the art establishment liked the painting and even Manet would later admit the earliest version of the work contained technical flaws but it was the content which so offended and there was something of the "shock of the new" in that it was one of the first depictions of Absinth drinking in representational art.  Manet submitted Le Buveur d'absinthe for inclusion in the Paris Salon in 1859 and almost unanimously the selection committee voted "non".  The establishment may not have wanted moral  degeneracy hanging in their galleries but the avant garde wanted little else and Manet's painting was among the first admitted to the Salon des Refusés (literally "exhibition of rejects") in 1863.  

A Le Buveur d'absinthe (The Absinthe Drinker) (1901) by Pablo Picasso (1881-1973).

A Le Buveur d'absinthe would be also be painted by Pablo Picasso, competed in the autumn of 1901, just as his “blue period” was beginning.  Although nowhere near as monochromatic as later blue period works such as Femme aux Bras Croisés (Woman with Folded Arms (1901-1902)) or La Vie (Life (1903)), the work is an early example of the themes associated with this phase, melancholy, alienation & desolation.  The blue period began after Picasso became depressed over the suicide of a close friend and for some years he would explore aspects of human misery.  For someone who looks this unhappy absinthe might be a good choice but it didn't suit everyone.  The French symbolist writer Alfred Jarry (1873-1907) was renowned for his particularly erratic and eccentric behavior and often indulged in while drinking in Paris’s absinthe cafes; it’s said, with his face painted green, he once rode his bicycle through a village to celebrate the joy of the spirit.  He died of consumption, the severity of his condition aggravated by drug and alcohol use.

Absente Absinthe Refined.

Vincent Van Gogh (1853–1890) was known to drink absinthe, not anything unusual at the time and while he suffered from what would now be called “mental health issues” (then it was simply “went mad”), what part the drink played in his breakdown isn’t known although in letters to friends, he did note the effect it had on his work.  The mere connection however was enough for Crillon Importers to collaborate with Absente to produce the Van Gogh themed packaging for Absente Absinthe Refined when in 1999 it was the first brand to offer the green fairy in the US since the ban was imposed in 1912.  Absente made much of its spirit being “authentic” by which they meant it was distilled from wormwood and therefore contained thujone, the fabled and allegedly psychoactive substance naturally present in the herb and the reason for the original ban although cautiously, when permitting sales in 1999, the ATF (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives) limited the thujone content to 10 milligrams per litre.

Lindsay Lohan in absinthe green, Pure Leaf Green Tea promotion, 2024.

Once one of France’s most famous poets and essayists, Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) was probably no more fond of absinthe than any other strong drink but certainly didn’t avoid the green fairy, even writing the poem Enivrez-vous (Get drunk, first published in 1864) in which it's mentioned.  For years he drank heavily and used a variety of opioids before suffering a massive stroke in 1866, lingering in a semi-paralysis for almost a year before dropping dead.  In fashion, the term “absinthe green” was used opportunistically and was never exactly defined beyond it being associated usually with a vibrant hue.  The use began during the era in which the drink was in many places outlawed so attraction was it conveyed some sense of “edginess”.  Because the imagery of the “green fairy” and its alleged consequences became part of Western folklore, often it’s forgotten there was also “absinthe blanche” (Suisse absinthe, known also as “absinthe bleue”), which was colorless and in its time much sought for the high alcohol content.  Absinthe blanche was the product extracted before the final maceration process with a blend of herbs which lent the fluid its green hue and more complex taste.

Death in the evening.

Lindy Chamberlain (holding Azaria) and her sons Reagan (b 1976) & Aidan (b 1973), Stuart Highway, Northern Territory, Australia.  The 1977 Holden LX Torana SL Hatchback was finished in in Absinth Yellow (GMH code 1886 (Dulon code 15949 / Berger code 1D008)) over Slate Black Vinyl & Cloth trim (18X) and was fitted with the 4.2 litre (253 cubic inch) V8 (L32) & four-speed manual transmission (M20).  The photograph was taken opposite the Erldunda Roadhouse (gas (petrol) stations and the distance between them are of great importance in the Northern Territory) at the Lasseter Highway turn-off from the Stuart Highway.  Some 200 km (125 miles) from the desolate and depressing township of Alice Springs, from there it's a further 245 km (150 miles) to the Ayers Rock Resort which is the tourist hub for Uluru.  In the happy days before speed limits were in 2007 imposed (by a female chief minister for whom any desire to drive faster than 80 km/h (50 mph) must have been beyond comprehension), in the right car, it was an entertaining drive but with an absurdly low maximum of 130 km/h (80 mph) now set, flying is recommended.  

1:18 scale model of Holden HJ Monaro GTS Coupe in Absinth Yellow by Classic Carlectables (part number 18719).

As well as the Torana, Holden made Absinth Yellow available on other “sporty” models, notably the Monaro GTS, then available with two and four-door forms.  Introduced in 1974, the HJ range (1974-1976) featured a rather heavy-handed restyling which was disappointing after the elegance achieved by the HQ (1971-1974) but it reflected a desire to make the car appear bigger and “less feminine” (an intangible quality but one recognized by designers).  The frontal styling was a direct borrowing from the first generation Chevrolet Monte Carlo (1970-1972).

The Absinth Yellow LX Torana was made infamous because of the part it played in the 1982 conviction of Lindy Chamberlain (b 1948) for the murder in August 1980 of her nine-week old daughter Azaria.  The family had been camping close to Uluru (Ayers Rock) in Australia’s Northern Territory and, on the fateful evening, in an agitated state, Lindy Chamberlain claimed Azaria had been “taken by a dingo” (a kind of wild dog).  It was a remarkable case in which the prosecution succeeded in convincing the jury a mother had murdered her child despite there being no body, no murder weapon and no apparent motive.  The car was of great significance because of flawed evidence from a forensic scientist who claimed certain material found in the interior was the infant’s blood and it was only a subsequent analysis which confirmed the “blood spatter” was not foetal haemoglobin (something present in those under six months old) but overspray from the bitumen-based sound deadening paint then used by the manufacturer, spilled milkshake and copper dust.

The Absinth Yellow “Azaria Torana”, now on display at the National Museum of Australia in Canberra.

Convicted of being an accessory after the fact, Lindy’s husband, preacher Michael Chamberlain (1944–2017), was handed a suspended sentence but his wife received the mandatory life term and was imprisoned for more than three years, appeals as far as the HCA (High Court Of Australia) not overturning the verdicts, despite a dissent in the HCA hearing handed down by the only judge on the bench trained in science (Justice Lionel Murphy (1922–1986) who held a B.Sc (Hons) in organic chemistry) who found the Crown's scientific evidence flawed.  She was released only when the baby’s bloodied matinee jacket was found near a dingo’s den, prompting an inquest into the matter.  They were finally exonerated by the findings of a 1987 royal commission but the case remains of interest because it raised examples of flaws and inconstancies in matter of evidence and the administration of criminal law.  There was also much analysis of the media’s coverage, especially as it related to Lindy Chamberlain who was deemed by many commentators not to be “playing the part” expected of a distraught and grieving mother.  Not always with subtleness, aspersions were cast on the “religious fundamentalism” of the Seventh-day Adventist couple and, implications made, among the public, inferences were drawn with one event of note reported by the press.  When the murder verdict was announced on a television playing in a Darwin pub, there were shouts of “The dingo didn't do it!” and much cheering.

Heptadecaphobia

Heptadecaphobia (pronounced hepp-tah-dech-ah-foh-bee-uh)

Fear of the number 17.

1700s: The construct was the Ancient Greek δεκαεπτά (dekaepta) (seventeen) + φόβος (phobos).  The alternative form is septadecaphobia, troubling some the purists because they regard it as a Greek-Latin mongrel, the construct being the Latin septem (seven) + deca, from the Latin decas (ten), from the Ancient Greek δεκάς (dekás) (ten) + the Ancient Greek φόβος) (phobos) (fear).  Heptadecaphobia deconstructs as hepta- “seven” + deca (ten) + phobos.  The suffix -phobia (fear of a specific thing; hate, dislike, or repression of a specific thing) was from the New Latin, from the Classical Latin, from the Ancient Greek -φοβία (-phobía) and was used to form nouns meaning fear of a specific thing (the idea of a hatred came later).  Heptadecaphobia, heptadecaphobist, heptadecaphobism, heptadecaphobiac and heptadecaphobe are nouns, heptadecaphobic is a noun & adjective and heptadecaphobically is an adverb; the common (sic) noun plural is heptadecaphobes and they should number 59 million-odd (the population of Italy).

Morphologically, “heptadecaphilliac” is possible but is clumsy and unnecessary, the standard noun agent (-phile) rendering it redundant and although used, not all approve of the suffix -phobiac because it’s a later hybrid formation from modern English and thus judged “less elegant”.  The opposite condition (a great fondness for 17) is the noun heptadecaphilia, those with the condition being Heptadecaphiles, the derived words following the conventions used with heptadecaphobia.  Whether any of the derived forms have much (or ever) been used beyond lists asserting they exist (which, except as abstractions, may be dubious) is unlikely but concerned Italians should note the noun heptadecaphobist would seem to imply doctrinal adherence rather than suffering the fear.  Still, it’s there if the need exists for precision in one’s behavioural descriptors.  Modern English constructions (like heptadecaphobia) built from Greek morphemes are neo-classical” compounds rather than a “proper” words from the Ancient Greek and while some amuse or appal the classicists, in practice, variations in suffix-use have long be tolerated.

No fear of 17: Sydney Sweeney (b 1997) in photo-shoot for Frankies Bikini Collection, Seventeen magazine, March 2023.

In Classical Greek, the cardinal number 17 was ἑπτακαίδεκα (heptakaídeka; literally “seven-and-ten”) but the Ancients were as adept as us at clipping for convenience and the variant ἑπταδέκα (heptadéka; literally “seven-ten”) also exists in surviving texts.  The shorter element embedded in heptadecaphobia corresponds to heptadeca- (from ἑπταδέκα) and genuinely that is Classical Greek, although, on the basis of the count from what documents are extant, it was less common than ἑπτακαίδεκα. The latter-day hybridization was inevitable because, as far as in known, “seventeen” had not before been used as a combining stem in compounds.  In English, the convention in neoclassical formation tends the sequence: (1) take the cardinal form, (2) drop the inflection and (3) treat it as a stem, thus the construct heptadeca + phobia, familiar to structuralists in the more common triskaidekaphobia which uses the Greek tris-kai-deka (“three and ten”) despite in genuine Greek morphology, compounds being not usually directly from ἑπταδέκα as a bound stem.  It’s better to follow modern practice rather than try to conjure something “classically pure” because although one could argue heptakaidekaphobia (closer to ἑπτακαίδεκα) is a better tribute to Antiquity, as well as being historically unattested, it’s phonetically cumbersome which seems a worse linguistic sin.

Just because a “fear of a number” is listed somewhere as a “phobia” doesn’t mean the condition has much of a clinical history or even that a single case is to be found in the literature; many may have been coined just for linguistic fun and students in classics departments have been set assessment questions like “In Greek, construct the word meaning “fear of the number 71” (the correct answer being “hebdomekontahenophobia”).  Some are well documented such as tetraphobia (fear of 4) which is so prevalent in East Asia it compelled BMW to revise the release strategy of the “4 Series” cars and triskaidekaphobia (fear of 13) which has such a history in the West it’s common still for hotels not to have a 13^th floor or rooms which include “13”, something which in the pre-digital age was a charming quirk but when things were computerized added a needless complication.  The use of the actual number is important because in such a hotel the “14^th” floor is (in the architectural sense) of course the 13^th but there’s little to suggest there’s ever been resistance from guests being allocated room 1414.

Some number phobias are quite specific: Rooted in the folklore of Australian cricket is a supposed association of the number 87 with something bad (typically a batter (DEI (diversity, equity & inclusion) means they're no longer "batsmen") being dismissed) although it seems purely anecdotal and more than one statistical analysis (cricket is all about numbers) has concluded there's nothing “of statistical significance” to be found and there’s little to suggest players take the matter seriously.  One English umpire famously had “a routine” associated with the score reaching a “repunit” (a portmanteau (or blended) word, the construct being re(eated) +‎ unit) (eg 111, 222, 333 etc) but that was more fetish than phobia.

No fear of 17: Lindsay Lohan appeared on the covers of a number of issues of Seventeen magazine.  Targeted at the female market (age rage 12-18), the US edition of Seventeen is now predominately an on-line publication, printed only as irregular "special, stand-alone issues" but a number of editions in India and the Far East continue in the traditional format. 

Other illustrative number phobias include oudenophobia (fear of 0), (trypophobia (fear of holes) said to sometimes be the companion condition), henophobia (fear of 1) (which compels sufferer to avoid being associated with “doing something once”, being the “first in the group” etc), heptaphobia (fear of 7) (cross-culturally, a number also with many positive associations), eikosiheptaphobia (fear of 27) (a pop-culture thing which arose in the early 1970s when a number of rock stars, at 27, died messy, drug-related deaths), tessarakontadyophobia (fear of 42) (which may have spiked in patients after the publication of Douglas Adams’ (1952–2001) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1979-1992), enenekontenneaphobia (fear of 99) (thought not related to the Get Smart TV series of the 1960s), tetrakosioeikosiphobia (fear of 420) (the syndrome once restricted to weed-smokers in the US but long internationalized), the well-documented hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia (fear of 666), heftakosioitessarakontaheptaphobia (fear of 747) (though with the withdrawal from passenger service of the tough, reliable (four engines and made of metal) Boeing 747 and its replacement with twin-engined machines made increasingly with composites and packed with lithium-ion batteries, a more common fear may be “not flying on a 747”, most common among heftakosioitessarakontaheptaphiles).  Enniakosioihendecaphobia (fear of 911) was, in the US, probably a co-morbidity with tetrakosioeikosiphobia but it may also have afflicted also those with a bad experience of a pre-modern Porsche 911 (1963-) which, in inexpert hands, could behave as one would expect of a very powerful Volkswagen Beetle, the most acute cases manifesting as triskaidekaphobia (fear of 930, that number being the internal designation for the original 911 Turbo (1974-1989), the fastest of the breed, soon dubbed the "widow-maker").

Nongentiseptuagintatrestrillionsescentiquinquagintanovemmiliacentumtredecimdeciesoctingentivigintiquattuormiliatrecentiphobia (fear of 973,659,113,824,315) describes a the definitely rare condition and it's assumed that was word was coined by someone determined to prove it could be done. There’s also compustitusnumerophobia (fear of composite numbers), meganumerophobia (fear of large numbers), imparnumerophobia (fear of odd numbers), omalonumerophobia (fear of even numbers), piphobia (fear of pi), phiphobia (fear of the golden ratio), primonumerophobia (fear of prime numbers), paranumerophobia (fear of irrational numbers), neganumerophobia (fear of negative numbers) and decadisophobia (fear of decimals).  All such types are unrelated to arithmophobia (or numerophobia) which is the "fear of numbers, calculations & math", a syndrome common among students who "just don't get it" and there are many because those "good at math" and those not really are two separate populations; it's rare to be able to transform the latter into the former, a better solution being to send them to law school where many flourish, needing to master the arithmetic only of billing their time in six-minute increments (1/10th of an hour).  Having ten fingers and thumbs, most manage the calculations.  The marvellous Wiki Fandom site and The Phobia List are among the internet’s best curated collection of phobias.

The only one which debatably can’t exist is neonumerophobia (fear of new numbers) because, given the nature of infinity, there can be no “new numbers” although, subjectively, a number could be “new” to an individual so there may be a need.  Sceptical though mathematicians are likely to be, the notion of the “new number” ("zero" debatably the last) has (in various ways) been explored in fiction including by science fiction (SF or SciFi) author & engineer Robert A Heinlein (1907–1988) in The Number of the Beast (1980), written during his “later period”.  More challenging was Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by English schoolmaster & Anglican priest Edwin Abbott (1838–1926) which was published under the pseudonym “A Square”, the layer of irony in that choice revealed as the protagonist begins to explore dimensions beyond his two-dimensional world (in Victorian England).  Feminists note also Ursula K Le Guin’s (1929–2018) The Left Hand of Darkness (1969) in which was created an entirely new numerical system of “genderless" numbers”.  That would induce fear in a few.

Lindsay Lohan's cover of the song Edge of Seventeen appeared on the album A Little More Personal (2005).  Written by Stevie Nicks (b 1948), it appeared originally on her debut solo studio album Bella Donna (1981).

In entymology, there are insects with no fear of the number 17.  In the US, the so-called “periodical cicadas” (like those of the genus Magicicada) exist in a 17 year life cycle, something thought to confer a number of evolutionary advantages, all tied directly to the unique timing of their mass emergence: (1) The predator satiation strategy: The creatures emerge in massive numbers (in the billions), their sheer volume meaning it’s physically impossible for predators (both small mammals & birds) to eat enough of them to threaten the survival of the species. (2) Prime number cycles: Insects are presumed unaware of the nature of prime numbers but 17 is a prime number and there are also periodic cicadas with a 13 (also a prime) year cycle.  The 13 (Brood XIX) & 17-year (Brood X) periodic cicadas do sometimes emerge in the same season but, being prime numbers, it’s a rare event, the numbers' LCM (least common multiple) being 221 years; the last time the two cicadas emerged together was in 1868 and the next such event is thus expected in 2089.  The infrequency in overlap helps maintain the effectiveness of the predator avoidance strategies, the predators typically having shorter (2-year, 5-year etc) cycles which don’t synchronize with the cicadas' emergence, reducing chances a predator will evolve to specialize in feeding on periodical cicadas. (3) Avoidance of Climate Variability: By remaining underground for 17 years, historically, periodical cicadas avoided frequent climate changes or short-term ecological disasters like droughts or forest fires. The long underground nymph stage also allows them to feed consistently over many years and emerge when the environment is more favorable for reproduction.  Etymologists and biological statisticians are modelling scenarios under which various types of accelerated climate change are being studied to try to understand how the periodic cicadas (which evolved under “natural” climate change) may be affected. (4) Genetic Isolation: Historically, the unusually extended period between emergences has isolated different broods of cicadas, reducing interbreeding and promoting genetic diversity over time, helping to maintain healthy populations over multiple life-cycles.

No 17^th row: Alitalia B747-243B I-DEMP, Johannesburg International Airport, South Africa, 2001.

There are a variety of theories to account for the Italian superstition which had rendered 17 the national “unlucky number” but it does seem to be due primarily to a linguistic and symbolic association from ancient Rome.  The most accepted explanation is that in Roman numerals 17 is XVII which, anagrammatically, translates to VIXI (Latin for “I have lived” (the first-person singular perfect active indicative of vīvō (to live; to be alive)), understood in the vernacular as “my life is over” or, more brutally: “I am dead”.  It was something which appeared often on Roman tombstones, making an enduring record which ensured the superstition didn’t have to rely on collective memory or an oral tradition for inter-generational transfer.  That would have been ominous enough but Romans noted also that Osiris, the Egyptian god of, inter alia, life, death, the afterlife and resurrection, had died on the 17^th day of the month, 17 thus obviously a “death number” to the logical Roman mind and the worst 17^th days of the month were those which coincided with a full moon.  The cosmic coincidence was an intensifier in the same sense that in the English-speaking world the conjunction leading to a Friday falling on the 13^th makes the day seem threatening.  Thus, just as in some places hotels have neither 13^th floor or rooms containing “13”, in Italy it’s “17” which is avoided although not having a row 17 in its airliners didn’t save Alitalia (Società Aerea Italiana, the now-defunct national carrier) from its COVID-era demise.  Of course not labelling a row or floor “13” or “17” doesn’t mean a 13^th or 17^th something doesn’t exist, just that it’s called “14” or “18” so it’s the symbolic association which matters, not the physical reality.  Mashing up the numerical superstitions, that 17 is an “unlucky number” shouldn’t be surprising because it’s the sum of 13 + 4, the latter being the most dreaded number in much of East Asia, based on the pronunciation resembling “death” in both Chinese and Japanese.

In automotive manufacturing, there was nothing unusual about unique models being produced for the Italian domestic market, the most common trick being versions with engines displacing less than 2.0 litres to take advantage of the substantially lower tax regime imposed below that mark.  Thus Ferrari (1975-1981) and Lamborghini (1974-1977) made available 2.0 litre V8s (sold in RoW (rest of the world) markets variously in 2.5 & 3.0 litre displacements), Maserati a 2.0 V6 (usually a 3.0 in the Maserati Merak (1972-1983) although it appeared in 2.7 & 3.0 litre form in the intriguing but doomed Citroën SM (1970-1975)) and Mercedes-Benz created a number of one-off 2.0 litre models in the W124 range (1974-1977) exclusive to the Italian domestic market (although an unrelated series of 2.0 litre cars was also sold in India).  Others followed the trend although, the more expensive they were, the less appeal seemed to exist despite, in absolute terms, the saving increasing as the price rose.  Maserati offered a twin-turbo 2.0 in the aptly named BiTurbo, BMW did a one off 320is and Alfa Romeo produced a run of 2.0 V6s.

Lindsay Lohan, aged 17, Teen Choice Awards, Universal Amphitheatre, Universal City, California, 2 August 2003.

From an engineering point of view, most audacious doubtlessly was the 2.0 litre version of TVR's V8S (1991-1994).  Supplied usually with a 4.0 litre version of the versatile Rover V8, the capacity of the version for the Italian market was halved by de-stroking, the bore of 88.9 and stroke of 40.25 mm creating an outrageously oversquare bore/stroke ratio of 45.28 but, with the assistance of a supercharger, the quirky engine almost matched in power and torque the naturally aspirated original with twice the displacement; It was a classic example of the effectiveness of forced-aspiration although it did demand of drivers a different technique.  By comparison, the Formula One BRM H16’s (1966-1967) bore & stroke was 69.8 x 49.9 mm and it was so oversquare to reduce the frictional losses which would have been induced had a longer stroke been used with that many cylinders; its bore/stroke ration was 71.48 compared with the almost square BRM V16 designed in the 1940s, the latter able to be in that configuration because (1) it was supercharged and (2) being only 1.5 litres, the stroke was anyway physically short in absolute terms.  The 2.4 litre V8s used in Formula One between 2006-2013 had to have a maximum bore of 98 and stroke of 40 mm (bore/stroke ratio 40.81) and that’s an indication of the characteristics the 2.0 litre TVR V8S offered.  Disappointingly, it was an experience few Italians sought and only seven were built.

It was Suzuki which had more success with work-arounds to Rome’s tiresome regulations.  Their two-stroke, triple cylinder GT380 (1972-1980) motorcycle was for most of its existence made with an actual displacement of 371 cm³ but in 1975, the Italian government passed a law banning the importation of motor-cycles under 380 cm³ and weighing less than 170 kg.  Accordingly, the Japanese produced a “big bore” 380 exclusively for the Italian market displacing an actual 384 cm³.  The portly triple would never have run afoul of the weight limit but just to avoid any unpleasantness, the data plate riveted to the frame recorded a verified mass of 171 kg.  Honor apparently satisfied on both sides, the GT380 remained available in some places until 1980, outliving the Suzuki’s other two-strokes triples by three seasons.

US advertisement for the Renault 17 (1974), the name Gordini adopted as a "re-brand" of the top-of-the-range 17TS,  Gordini was a French sports car producer and tuning house, absorbed by Renault in 1968, the name from time-to-time used for high-performance variants of various Renault models.

One special change for the Italian market was a nod to the national heptadecaphobia, the car known in the rest of the world (RoW) as the Renault 17 (1971-1979) sold in Italy as the R177.  For the 17, Renault took the approach which had delivered great profits: use the underpinnings of mundane mass-produced family cars with a sexy new body draped atop.  Thus in the US the Ford Falcon (1959-1969) begat the Mustang (1964-) and in Europe Ford made the Capri (1968-1976) from the Cortina (1962-1982).  Opel’s swoopy GT (1968-1973) was (most improbably) underneath just the modest Kadett.  It wasn’t only the mass-market operators which used the technique because in the mid 1950s, Mercedes-Benz understood the appeal of the style of the 300 SL (W198, 1954-1957) was limited by the high price which was a product of the exotic engineering (the space-frame, gullwing doors, dry sump and the then novel MFI (mechanical fuel-injection)), the solution being to re-purpose the platform of the W120, the small, austere sedan which helped the company restore its fortunes in the post-war years before the Wirtschaftswunder (economic miracle) was celebrated in 1959 with the exuberance of the Heckflosse (tailfin) cars (1959-1968).  On the W120 platform was built the 190 SL (W121, 1955-1963), an elegant (it not especially rapid) little roadster which quickly became a trans-Atlantic favourite, particularly among what used to be called the “women’s market”.

Only in Italy: The Renault 177, exclusively for heptadecaphobes.

Using the same formula, the Renault 17 was built on the underpinnings of the Renault 12, a remarkably durable platform, introduced in 1969 and, in one form or another, manufactured or assembled in more than a dozen countries, the last not produced until 2006.  Like the Anglo-German Ford Capri, the 17 was relatively cheap to develop because so much was merely re-purposed but for a variety of reasons, it never managed to come close to match the sales of the wildly successful Ford, FWD (front wheel drive) not then accepted as something “sporty” and Renault's implementation on the 17 was never adaptable to the new understanding of the concept validated by FWD machines such as Volkswagen’s Golf GTi which would define the “hot hatch”.  Like most of the world, the Italians never warmed to the 17 but presumably the reception would have been even more muted had not, in deference to the national superstition about the number 17, the name been changed to “Renault 177”, the cheaper companion model continuing to use the RoW label: Renault 15.