Appliqué

Appliqué (pronounced ap-li-key)

(1) Ornamentation, as a decorative cut-out design, sewn on, glued or otherwise applied to a piece of material.

(2) The practice of decorating in this way

(3) A work so formed or an object so decorated.

(4) A decorative feature, as a sconce, applied to a surface.

(5) To apply, as appliqué to.

(6) In medicine, of a red blood cell infected by the malarial parasite Plasmodium falciparum, assuming a form in which the early trophozoite of Plasmodium falciparum parasitises the marginal portion of the red blood cell, appearing as if the parasite has been “applied”.

1841: From the from French appliqué (work applied or laid on to another material), noun use of the past participle of appliquer (to apply), from the twelfth century Old French apliquier), from the Latin applicare (attach to, join, connect) and the source of “apply” in Modern English.  The alternative spelling is applique and in French, the feminine was appliquée, the masculine plural appliqués & the feminine plural appliquées.  As a verb, appliqué refers to a method of construction but as a noun, depending on the item, the synonyms can include finery, ornament, plaque, ribbon, trinket, wreath, brocade, decoration, lace, needlepoint, quilting, tapestry, mesh, arabesque, bauble, braid, curlicue, dingbat & embellishment.  Appliqué is a noun, verb & adjective appliquéd is a verb & adjective and appliquéing is a verb; the noun plural is appliqués.

The woodie wagon and the descent to DI-NOC appliqué

Horse drawn carriages of course began with timber construction, metal components added as techniques in metallurgy improved.  The methods of construction were carried over to the horseless carriages, most early automobiles made with a steel chassis and bodywork which could be of metal, wood or even leather, located by a wooden frame.  That endured for decades before being abandoned by almost all manufacturers by the 1970s, Morgan remaining one of the few traditionalists, their craftspeople (some of whom are now women) still fashioning some of the internal structure (attached to the aluminum chassis) from lovingly shaped and sanded English ash.

Early woodies:  1934 Ford V8 Model 40 woodie wagon (left), 1941 Packard One-Ten woodie wagon (centre) and 1949 Mercury 9CM woodie wagon (right).

During the inter-war years, the timberwork again became prominent in the early shooting brakes and station wagons.  Because such vehicles were limited production variations of the standard models, it wasn’t financially viable to build the tooling required to press the body panels so a partially complete cars were used (often by an external specialist), onto which was added the required coachwork, all fashioned in timber in the same manner used for centuries.  In the US, the cars were known as woodie wagons (often spelled woody in the UK where the same techniques were used) and the more expensive were truly fine examples of the cabinet-maker’s art, the timbers sometimes carefully chosen to match the interior appointments.  So much did the highly-polished creations resemble the fine oak, walnut and mahogany furniture with which the rich were accustomed to being around that they began to request sedans and convertibles built in the same way and the industry responded with top-of-the-range models with timber doors and panels replacing the pressed metal used on the cheaper versions.

1947 Nash Ambassador sedan (left), 1947 1948 Chrysler Town & Country convertible (centre) and 1947 Cadillac Series 75 Limousine 1947 (right).  Such was the appeal of the intricate woodwork that in the 1940s, manufacturers offered it on very expensive models although the timber offered no functional advantage over metal construction.

General Motors (GM) in 1935 actually introduced an all-steel model with station wagon coachwork but it was on a light-truck chassis (shades of the twenty-first century) and intended more for commercial operators; nobody then followed GM’s example.  The woodies were of course less practical and in some climates prone to deterioration, especially when the recommended care and maintenance schedules were ignored but demand continued and some returned to the catalogue in 1946 when production of civilian automobiles resumed from the war-time hiatus but these lines were almost all just the 1942 cars with minor updates.  By 1949, the manufacturers had introduced their genuinely new models, the construction of which was influenced by the lessons learned during the war years when factories had been adapted to make a wide range of military equipment.  Although woodies remained briefly available in some of the new bodies, one innovation which emerged from this time was the new “all steel” station wagon which was not only cheaper to produce than the labor-intensive woodie but something ideally suited to the emerging suburban populations and it would for decades be one of the industry’s best-sellers, decline not setting in until the mid-1970s.

US manufacturers applied the appliqué for decades and until 1953, Ford even used real timber for the DI-NOC's perimeter molding.  Some were worse than others.

However, although by the mid-1950s, the all-steel bodies had in the US replaced all but the handful of coach-built wagons made for those who valued exclusivity more than practicality, there was still a nostalgic longing for the look of timber.  It was too expensive to use the real stuff but what was adapted was DI-NOC, (Diurno Nocturna, from the Spanish, literally “daytime-nighttime” and translated for marketing purposes as “beautiful day & night”), an embossed vinyl or polyolefin material with a pressure-sensitive adhesive backing produced since the 1930s and perfected by Minnesota Mining & Manufacturing (3M).  Described as an “architectural finish”, it was used mostly for interior design purposes in hundreds of patterns and was able to be laid over a variety of substrates such as drywall, metal, and laminate.  Remarkably effective at emulating (at a distance) more expensive materials such as wood, leather, marble, metal or granite, what the manufacturers did was not re-create the appearance of the original woodies but instead unleash the designers on the large side-surfaces of the modern Amerian car, the results mostly variations of a theme and polarizing, the DI-NOC appliqués something one either loved or hated.

1963 Ford Consul Cortina 1500 (Mk1 “Woody” estate) (left) and 1963 Ford Falcon Squire (left).  Neither sold well or were offered for long, the Falcon’s DI-NOC particularly ill-suited to the Australian summer.

It was the Americans who fell in love with the look and in the 1960s and 1970s, a wide range of cars, large and small and all of them station wagons were available off the showroom floor, complete with a faux-woodgrain appliqué glued to the flanks and sometimes the tailgate.  3M claimed it looked exactly like the real thing and at night, that was actually true although close-up, daylight exposed reality like the ugly lights in a night-club, something especially noted of a DI-NOCed machine which has spent a couple of summers baking in the Arizona sun.  Still, nobody actually claimed it was real wood and unlike something subtle like a badge, several square feet of DI NOC plastered on the sides was a way of telling everyone you bought the most expensive model.  Detroit had established colonies in England, Australia and Germany and there they tried to export the DI-NOC idea.  The Prussians weren’t tempted but Ford did briefly offer an embellished Cortina in the UK and the Falcon Squire in Australia.

Real, sort of real and surreal.  1964 Morris Minor Traveller (left), 1961 advertisement for the Morris Mini Traveller (centre) and the custom (originally a 1960 3.4 FHC (fixed head coupé)) Jaguar XK150 shooting brake (Foxbat).

In the UK, one traditional woodie did enjoy a long life, the Morris Traveller, introduced in 1953 as an addition to the Minor range (1948-1972 (1975 in overseas markets)) remaining in production until 1971, the body aft of the doors formed with structural timber members which supported infill panels in painted aluminum.  It was the last true woodie in production and is now a thing in the lower reaches of the collector market, one donating its rear compartment to someone who wanted the Jaguar XK150 shooting brake the factory never made.  Dubbed the Foxbat, it has been restored as a charming monument to English eccentricity.  However, while the Minor Traveller was real, the subsequent Mini Traveller (1961–1969) was a curious hybrid: Structurally it was exactly the same car as the Mini station wagon, the external members real wood but wholly decorative affectations which were attached directly to the steel body, the "infill" panels an illusion.  The original Mini enjoyed a forty-year life between 1959-2000 but when in 2001 BMW introduced their retro-flavored take on the idea, although they resurrected a few motifs, they didn’t bring back a woodie, fake, faux or real.

Lindsay Lohan in lace appliqué trousers and black swimsuit, Mykonos, Greece, August 2016.

Delicacy

Delicacy (pronounced del-i-kuh-see)

(1) Fineness of texture, quality etc; softness; daintiness.

(2) Something delightful or pleasing, especially a choice food considered with regard to its rarity, costliness, or the like.

(3) The quality of being easily broken or damaged; fragility; frailty of health or fitness.

(4) The quality of requiring or involving great care or tact.

(5) Extreme sensitivity; precision of action or operation; minute accuracy.

(6) Fineness of perception or feeling; sensitiveness, discrimination; prudence, consideration, circumspection; fineness of feeling with regard to what is fitting, proper etc (now rare).

(7) In systemic grammar, the level of detail at which a linguistic description is made; the degree of fine distinction in a linguistic description.

(8) Gratification, luxury, or voluptuousness (obsolete).

(9) Fineness or elegance of construction or appearance.

(10) Refinement in taste or discrimination.

1325-1375: From Middle English delicacie and delicat, (delightfulness; fastidiousness; quality of being addicted to sensuous pleasure) from the Latin delicatus (dēliciae, from dēliciō, construct of dē + laciō).  The construct was delicate + -cy (the abstract noun suffix).  Delicate was from the Middle English delicat, from the Latin dēlicātus (giving pleasure, delightful, soft, luxurious, delicate (in Medieval Latin also "fine, slender”)), from dēlicia (used usually in the plural form dēliciae) (pleasure, delight, luxury), from dēliciō (I allure, entice), the construct being from dē- (away) + laciō (I lure, I deceive), from the Proto-Italic lakjō (to draw, to pull), of unknown origin. A related from was the Spanish delgado (thin, skinny).  The –cy suffix was from the Anglo-Norman -cie, ultimately from the Latin –cia & -tia, from the Ancient Greek -κια (-kia) & -τια (-tia), originally variants of the Latin -ia and the Ancient Greek -ια (-ia), -ία (-ía) or -εια (-eia).  It may have been original loan words like pharmacy and papacy were formed the model.  The suffix was used to form nouns of (1) state, condition or quality & (2) rank or office.  The meaning "fineness, softness, tender loveliness" is from the 1580s; that of "weakness of constitution" from the 1630s.  As applied to fine food and dainty viand, meaning evolved from the early seventeenth century; this apparently inspired the use of the plural form for the first time.  Delicacy is a noun; the noun plural is delicacies.

Cultural relativism in food

The notion of delicacy does vary between cultures.  Examples include:

Haggis (Scotland): A savoury pudding containing sheep's heart, liver, and lungs, minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and encased in the animal's stomach.

Butter Tea (Tibet): A tea made with rancid yak butter and said to be good for chapped lips.

Civet Coffee (Indonesia): A coffee made with the part-digested beans eaten and defecated by the Asian palm civet.  Beans are fermented as they pass through the civet's intestines and, after being defecated with other fecal matter, they are collected and coffee is brewed.  Origins of the practice are interesting.  In colonial times (as the Dutch East Indies), the indigenous people working the plantations weren’t permitted to take any of the harvest so took to gathering the defecated beans from the forest floor.  The plantation owners soon discovered these produced a superior flavor of coffee and a delicacy was thus created.  

Rocky Mountain Oysters (US & Canada):  Known also as prairie oysters, these are bulls’ testicles, served deep-fried.  The story that George W Bush (b 1946; US president 2001-2009) wanted them added to the White House menu for state banquets appears to be an urban myth.

Surströmming (Sweden): Fermented Baltic Sea herring.  During production, just enough salt is added to prevent the raw herring from rotting and newly opened can of Surströmming is said to have one of the most putrid food smells in the world.

Escargot Pearls (Austria): The fresh or processed eggs of land snails, sometimes called snail caviar.

Fried Brain Sandwich (US): Self-explanatory, thinly sliced fried slabs of calf’s brain on white toast; eaten mostly south of the Mason-Dixon line and first offered in St Louis, Missouri.

A delicate soul pondering a table of delicacies: Lindsay Lohan, Who What Wear Magazine photoshoot and interview, November 2022.

Uxorious

Uxorious (pronounced uhk-sawr-ee-uhs, uhk-sohr-ee-uhs, uhg-zawr-ee-uhs or uhk-zohr-ee-uhs).

Doting upon, foolishly fond of, or affectionately submissive toward one's wife.

1590–1600: From the Latin ūxōrius (of or pertaining to a wife; devoted to a wife; ruled by a wife), the construct being ūxor (wife) (genitive uxoris) + -ius (–ious), from the primitive Indo-European uk-sor- (she who gets accustomed (to a new household) after a patrilocal (a term from cultural anthropology describing a people or culture in which newly married couples live with the husband's family) marriage).  The suffix was from the Old Latin -ios, from the primitive Indo-European –yós and used to form adjectives from nouns.  The Middle English suffix –ous was borrowed from the Old French -ous & -eux, from the Latin -ōsus (full, full of); a doublet of -ose in the unstressed position.

The not necessarily related, the  noun uxoricide in 1804 acquired the sense of "the murder of one's wife" which by 1830 had extended to "one who kills his wife", either from the French uxoricide, or as a native construct from the Latin uxor (wife) + -cide.  The suffix –cide was from the Middle French -cide, from the Latin -cīda (cutter, killer), from -cīdium (killing), from caedō (to cut, hew, kill) and was a noun-forming suffix denoting “an act of killing or a slaughter”, “one who kills” or “one who cuts” from the appropriate nouns stems.  In English, the alternative form was –icide.  One who committed uxoricide (or contemplated committing) was sometimes described as uxoricidal which, while etymologically correct, probably wouldn't now in all circumstances be used by criminologists or mental health professionals.  The adjective uxorial meant literally "of or pertaining to a wife" and dated from 1778 but was sometimes used in the sense of uxorius.

The Duke & Duchess of Windsor (left) and the Duke & Duchess of Sussex (right).

That there's a well-established and often-used word to describe men unduly submissive towards their wives yet little history of use of the companion-term coined for similarly disposed women hasn't escaped the attention of critics who usually suggest it's an example of rampant sexism, the idea being a uxorious man is so rare as to deserve a descriptor whereas historically, all women were presumed to be submissive.  Neglected though it may be, a suitable word does exist.  Maritorious (being fond of one's husband to the point of obsession; excessively doting on one's husband) was from the Latin maritus (husband), from mās (male, a male).  The origin of mās is a mystery but the most popular theory is that it may be from the primitive Indo-European méryos (young man) which was the source of the Proto-Indo-Iranian máryas (young man), the Sanskrit मर्य (márya) (suitor, young man), the Ancient Greek μεῖραξ (meîrax) (young girl) and the Old Armenian մարի (mari) (female bird, hen) but etymologists say there's no explanation for the resultant phonetics, particularly the a-vocalism.

Maritorious was a literary creation of the early seventeenth century and the use by the creator remains its most celebrated instance.  It appeared in the Jacobean stage play Tragedy of Bussy D'Ambois (1603–1607) by the English classical scholar George Chapman (circa 1559–1634) who penned the line "Dames maritorious ne'er were meritorious".  The play was based on the life of Louis de Clermont, seigneur de Bussy d'Amboise (1549–1579), a noted bi-sexual in the court of Henry III (Henri III, 1551–1589; King of France 1574-1589) who was murdered after tangled affairs with both men and their wives.  Coined so to pun with meritorious, it did its job on the day but never caught on and the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) lists it as a nonce word (also called an occasionalism, a lexeme created for a single occasion to solve an immediate problem of communication), noting its rare appearance in English seemed limited to (1) discussions by etymologists and lexicographers about its rarity and (2) the odd jocular piece prompted by virtue of that very rarity such as this one by an anonymous author:

"There once was a man most uxorious,
Who was married to a dame quite maritorious,
This suited them fine as they wined and they dined,
And produced five offspring all rubicund!"

The Duke of Windsor with his mother (left) and the Duke of Sussex with his mother (right).

Sigmund Freud (1856–1939) wrote much about the relationship between men and their mothers, his most famous suggestion being that they imprint the opposite-sex parent as an ideal mate early in life and (since they realize they cannot have the real thing), seek a closely-matching substitute.  By his own admission, Freud didn't know that much about women, suggesting in a 1933 lecture that "...all I have to say to you about femininity is certainly incomplete and fragmentary and does not always sound friendly... If you want to know more about femininity, enquire about your own experiences of life, or turn to poets, or wait until science can give you deeper and more coherent information."  Presumably he has in mind male poets and while pondering the “riddle of femininity” Freud's position was that women were “the problem” although he did offer any of them in the audience the hope that they might be “more masculine than feminine”.  For all his (professional) interest in mothers, Freud really didn't explore whether there was any correlation between the extent to which a man might be dominated first by his mother and later by his wife but it's of some note that British psychoanalyst Ernest Jones (1879-1958) who wrote an admiring biography (in three volumes, 1953-1957), described Freud's relationship with his wife as "uxorious", something which might seem strange to those familiar with revelations about the intricacies of that marriage.  Still, psychoanalysts and princes alike marry the women of their choice and presumably know what they're getting and even if it's not what they need, it'll be what they want.

People will read the Duke of Sussex's memoir (Spare, Bantum, 2023, 416 pp, ISBN-10 0857504797) for their own reasons and take from it what they will but it's clear he half agrees with Philip Larkin (1922-1985):

“They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don't have any kids yourself.”

Philip Larkin, High Windows

Borrowing from Freud, it is tempting to wonder if at least some of the development of Prince Harry's relationship with women ended the night his mother died.   As the Duchess of Windsor might have said to the Duchess of Sussex: "You need just to take them by the hand and lead them; they will follow you".

Tent

Tent (pronounced tent)

(1) A portable shelter of skins, canvas, plastic, or the like, supported by one or more poles or a frame and often secured by ropes fastened to pegs in the ground.

(2) Something that resembles a tent (often as tent-like).

(3) A type of frock (usually as tent-dress).

(4) In casual political discourse (popularized by US President (1963-1969) Lyndon Johnson (1908-1973) (as “inside the tent”) a term to distinguish between those inside or outside the institutionalized political system.

(5) To give or pay attention to; to heed (Scots; largely archaic).

(6) In first-aid (medicine), a roll or pledget, usually of soft absorbent material, as lint or gauze, for dilating an orifice, keeping a wound open, etc.

(7) A red table wine from Alicante, Spain (obsolete).

(8) A sixteenth century word for a dark-colored tint (from the Spanish tinto (obsolete)).

(9) A portable pulpit set up outside to accommodate worshippers who cannot fit into a church (Scots; largely archaic).

1250–1300: From the Middle English tente (a probe) from the twelfth century Old French tente (tent, hanging, tapestry) from the Latin tenta, (a tent; literally literally "something stretched out”), noun use of feminine singular of the Latin tentus, (stretched), past participle of tendere (to extend; stretch) from the primitive Indo-European root ten (to stretch).  Technically, the Old French tente was a noun derivative of tenter from the Latin tentāre, variant of temptāre (to probe, test, to try). Despite some sources claiming the Latin tentōrium translates literally as “tent”, the correct meaning rather “something stretched out” from tendere (to extend; stretch); related was the Latin temptāre, source of the modern “tempt”.

In Middle English, tent (noun) (attention) was an aphetic variant of attent from the Old French atente (attention, intention) from the Latin attenta, feminine of attentus, past participle of attendere (to attend).  Word thus evolved in meaning to describe a structure of stretched fabric under which people could attend events.  The French borrowing wholly displaced the native Middle English tild & tilt (tent, til”) from the Old English teld (tent). The closest in Spanish is tienda (store, shop; tent).  The verb sense of "to camp in a tent" is attested from 1856, "to pitch a tent" noted a few years earlier.  The modern sense of tent and the relationship to words related to “stretch” is that the first tents were ad-hoc structures, created by stretching hides over wooden framework.  In arachnology, the Tent caterpillar, first recorded 1854, gained its name from the tent-like silken webs in which, gregariously they live.

FBI director J Edgar Hoover & President Johnson, the White House, 1967.

The phrase “inside the tent” is a bowdlerized version of words most frequently attributed to Lyndon Johnson (1908–1973 (LBJ); US president 1969-1969) explaining why, on assuming the presidency, he chose not to act on his original inclination (and the recommendation of some of his advisors) not to renew the appointment of J Edgar Hoover (1895–1972; director of US Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) 1924-1972): “Well, it’s probably better to have him inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.”  That may have been sound political judgement from one of the most Machiavellian operators of the modern age but an indication also of the fear (shared by not a few others) of what damaging and even incriminating information about LBJ Hoover may have locked in his secret files.

Lord Beaverbrook & Winston Churchill, Canada, 1941.

LBJ’s sometimes scatological references often involved bodily functions but much of it drew on the earthy language he learned from decades of political horse trading in Texas, another favourite when speaking of decision-making being: “There comes a point when you have to piss or get off the pot”.  Nor were the words used of Hoover original, the earliest known references in exchanges in the early twentieth century between the Arabists in the UK’s Foreign Colonial offices as “…keeping the camel inside the tent”.  In the vein of the US State Department’s later “He might be a son of a bitch but he’s our son of a bitch”, it was an acknowledgement often it was desirable to in some way appease the odd emir so that he might remain an annoying but manageable nuisance rather than a potentially dangerous enemy.  When it came to colonial fixes, the foreign office had rare skills.  Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) recycled the joke in 1940 when, after being advised by George VI (1895–1952; King of the United Kingdom 1936-1952) not to include Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) in his administration, the king’s concerns including being well aware of why the press lord had gained his nickname “been a crook”.

House minority leader Gerald Ford & President Johnson, the White House, 1967.

One quip however does seem to be original, LBJ’s crude humor the source also of the phrase “walk and chew gum”, used to refer to the ability (or inability) of governments to focus on more than one issue.  It was a sanitized version of a comment made by LBJ after watching a typically pedestrian television performance by Gerald Ford (1913–2006; US president 1974-1977), then minority leader (Republican) in the House of Representatives: “Jerry Ford is so dumb he can't fart and chew gum at the same time.”  There was a time when that might never have been reported but times were changing and it was printed in the press as “Gerald Ford can't walk and chew gum at the same time.”

Of tents, sacks & maxi

The tent dress, also known as the "A-line", picked up both names because of the similarity of the trapezoid shape to an A-frame tent or building and was one of a number of garments which emerged in the 1960s when women's fashion retreated from the cinch-waisted, tailored lines mainstream manufacturers mass-produced in the 1950s.  Because the sheer volume of fabric, they were popular with some designers who used vivid psychedelic imagery in the patterns, a nod to the hippie vibe of the time.

Crooked Hillary Clinton in tent dress, The Hamptons, 2019.

Designed originally to be functional, comfortable and ageless, tent dresses have no waistline and are worn without belts; they’re thus essentially shapeless and while they don't exactly hide flaws, they certainly don't cling to them so can (sort of) flatter a shape to the extent it's possible, even though they actually accentuate width.  About once every fashion cycle, and never with great success, the industry pushes the tent dress as one of the trends of that season, the attempt in 2007 still regarded in the industry as a cautionary tale of how things shouldn't be done.

Tent dresses, made from a variety of fabrics, obviously have a lot of surface area so there's much scope to experiment with colors, patterns and graphics, the garments offered in everything from solid hues, subtle patterning, bold strips and, most famously, wild arrays of colors seemingly chosen deliberately to clash.  Given their purpose, most are long-sleeved or at least with a sleeve reaching the upper forearms and while the length can vary (some actually better described as loose shirts), the classic tent dress is knee or calf-length.

Sack dresses by Hubert de Givenchy (1927–2018), Spring Summer 1958 collection, Paris 1957.

Nor should the sack-line be confused with the tent.  Givenchy’s sack-line debuted in their spring-summer line in 1957, Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972) showing a not dissimilar style just a few weeks later.  Both were essentially an evolution of the “Shirt Dress” which had attracted some attention the previous season and signaled a shift from the fitted, structured silhouettes which had been the signature motif of the decade.  The sack-line dresses were described by some critics as “shapeless” or “formless”, presumably because they lacked any suggestion of the waistline which had existed for so long as fashion’s pivot-point.  However, the forms the sack-line took would have been recognizable to anyone familiar with fluid dynamics or the flow of air in wind tunnels, a waistless dress which narrowed severely towards the hem one of the optimal aerodynamic shapes.

That was presumably a coincidence but Givenchy’s press-kits at the 1957 shows did claim that “More than a fashion, it’s actually a way of dressing” and one which must have found favor with at least some women, not unhappy at being able to ditch the forbidding and restrictive, high-waisted girdles needed to achieve the wasp-wasted “New Look” which Dior had introduced to a post-war world anxious to escape wartime austerity.  Waistless, the sack-line appeared to hang suspended from the shoulders like an envelope around the frame yet despite not being body-hugging, the lines managed to accentuate the figure, the trick being using the mind of the observer to "fill in the gaps", based on available visual clues.  The simplicity of the sack line made it the ideal canvas on which to display other stuff, models in sacks soon showing off gloves, hats, shoes and other adornments and the elegant austerity of the lines remains influential today.

Maxi dresses are not tent dresses.  Lindsay Lohan in maxi dresses illustrates the difference.

Not all enveloping dresses, of which the vaguely defined “maxi” is probably the best known example, are tent dresses.  What really distinguishes the tent dress is that it’s waistless and in the shape of a regular trapezoid, hence the alternative name “A-line” whereas the point of the maxi is that it’s ankle-length, the antithesis of the mini skirt which could be cut as high up the thigh as any relevant statutes and the wearer’s sense of daring permitted.  Extreme in length, the maxi typically had at least something of a waist although some with severe perpendicular lines certainly could be classified as sacks.

Gallimaufry

Gallimaufry (pronounced gal-uh-maw-free)

(1) A hodgepodge (or hotchpotch); a medley of the unrelated; a mélange; a miscellany; jumble; a mish mash; olio; potpourri; an omnium-gatherum.

(2) Figuratively, something messy or confused.

(2) In music, any absurd medley especially if elaborate.

(3) In cooking, a stew.

1545–1555: from the Middle French galimafrée (ragout, hash; a kind of sauce or stew), from the Old French calimafree (sauce made of mustard, ginger, and vinegar; a stew of carp) of uncertain origin but probably coining of peasant cuisine, a conflation of galer (to amuse oneself; to have fun) + the Old Northern French (Picard) dialect mafrer (to gorge oneself; gluttonously to eat), from the Middle Dutch moffelen (to eat, to nosh (from Middle Dutch moffelen, (from the idea “to open one's mouth wide” of imitative origin)).  The alternative spellings were gallimaufray & gallimaufrey, both even more rare than gallimaufry although in historical fiction and poetry both have appeared, either suit the depiction of the era or as a device of rhyme.  Elsewhere, the equivalent sense was conveyed by Sammelsurium or Mischmasch (German), galimatija (Bulgarian), zibaldone (Italian), papazjanija (Serbo-Croatian), galimatías (Spanish) and karmakarışık şey (Turkish).  Gallimaufry is a noun; the noun plural is gallimaufries.

Gallimaufry Restaurant, Bristol, United Kingdom, noted for the excellence of its date pudding.

The English language is of course a gallimaufry, an agglomeration of words from all over the planet or, as some prefer to say it: a slut of a language.  That means there’s a wide vocabulary, one consequence of which is that for gallimaufry there are plenty of alternatives including farrago, hash, hodgepodge, hotchpotch, medley, mélange, mishmash, mixture, tangle, welter, mess, muddle; goulash, grab bag, mixed bag, miscellany, omnium-gatherum, array, collection, combination, combo, conglomeration, diversity, garbage, group, jumble, kind, mishmash, mixture, patchwork, potpourri & salmagundi.  Most are probably a better choice than the obscure gallimaufry which is now restricted mostly to poetic or literary use although retail outlets in various fields have used it.

In Dog Latin (amusing constructions designed to resemble the appearance and especially the sound of Latin, many of which were coined by students in English schools & universities), the term is omnium-gatherum, the construct being the genuine Latin omnium, genitive plural of omnis (all) + the English gather + -um (the accusative masculine singular).  The origin is lost to history but the earliest recorded use was by Sir John Croke (1553-1620), an English judge and politician educated at Eton & Cambridge who served as the last speaker of the House of Commons before the death of Elizabeth I (1533–1603; Queen of England & Ireland 1558-1603).

Lindsay Lohan in November 2022 appeared on ABC’s Good Morning America to promote the Netflix movie, Falling for Christmas.  What caught the eye was her outfit, a suit in a gallimaufry of colors from Law Roach’s (b 1978) Akris’ fall 2022 ready-to-wear collection, the assembly including a wide-lapelled jacket, turtleneck and boot cut pants fabricated in a green, yellow, red & orange Drei Teile print in an irregular geometric pattern.  The distinctive look was paired with a similarly eclectic combination of accessories, chunky gold hoop earrings, a cross-body Anouk envelope handbag, and Giuseppe Zanotti platform heels.

The enveloping flare of the trousers concealed the shoes which was a shame, the Giuseppe Zanotti (b 1957) Bebe-style pumps in gloss metallic burgundy leather distinguished by 2-inch (50 mm) soles, 6-inch (150 mm) heels, open vamp, rakish counters and surprisingly delicate ankle straps.  The need for the cut of the trousers to reach to the ground is noted but the shoes deserved to be seen.

Although the origins of the word gallimaufry lie in the peasant cuisine stews made from lamb, mutton, pork and beef, probably the best known gallimaufry is bouillabaisse (pronounced bool-yuh-beys, bool-yuh-beys or (in French), boo-ya-bes), the Provençal fish stew first cooked in the docks of the port city of Marseille.  The word bouillabaisse was from the Provençal Occitan boui-abaisso, bolhabaissa or bouiabaisso, a compound created with the two verbs bolhir (to boil) & abaissar (to reduce heat (ie to simmer)).  Dating from the mid nineteenth century, the word actually encapsulates the recipe was translated variously as either “boil and then lower the heat” or “when it boils, lower the heat”.  The instructions are not only a recipe but also medically sound, the boiling killing the dangerous organisms associated especially with shellfish.

An up-market bouillabaisse.

The dish, known in the Mediterranean since Antiquity, long pre-dates the entry of the word into French, being a stew cooked for their own consumption by fishermen, making use of by-catch, the unsalable rockfish neither fishmongers nor chefs wanted.  It was only when news of the tastiness of bouillabaisse spread that gradually it entered the canon of French cuisine although that would also change its nature, more expensive ingredients being added as it began to appear on restaurant menus.  Originally, it included only the boney fish with coarser, less flavorsome flesh but the fishermen would also add whatever shellfish, sea urchins, mussels, crabs or octopus might have ended up caught in their nets, the taste thus varying form day to day.  Vegetables such as leeks, onions, tomatoes, celery, and potatoes are simmered with the broth, served with the fish and of course, being the French, it’s accompanied with bread and an oil & garlic sauce.  Although not always part of the modern method of preparation, one of the key features in the cooking of bouillabaisse was that the experienced fishermen, added the fish at intervals, the time required for cooking varying.  The Portuguese version is called caldeirada.  Because it’s so specifically associated with something, the bouillabaisse is rarely used figuratively in the manner of gallimaufry although it can be done provided the context makes clear the use has nothing to do with fish: “The wallpaper was a bouillabaisse of shapes & swirls” or “The modern Republican Party is a bouillabaisse of right-wing fanatics, Christian evangelical fundamentalists, climate change deniers, white supremacists and conspiracy theorists drawn to any story which explains things in a more comprehendible way than science”.