Harlequin

Harlequin (pronounced hahr-luh-kwin or hahr-luh-kin)

(1) A stock comic character, depicted usually wearing a black mask and dressed in multicolored, diamond-patterned tights, often with a wooden sword or magic wand (often with initial capital)

(2) In theater, the most famous of the zanni (the comic servant characters) from the Italian commedia dell'arte (from the Italian Arlecchino or one of its many variants (Arlechin, Arlechì et al) which was associated with the city of Bergamo.  In English the character is best known as the foppish lover of Columbine in the English harlequinade.  The original spelling in Italian was Harlicken.

(3) A jester; a buffoon or oaf-like character; the pantomime fool.

(4) Any of various small snakes having bright diamond-pattern scales.

(5) Anything fancifully varied in color, decoration etc and in commerce sometimes of a specific product (such as harlequin ice-cream) and the eighteenth century English adjective particoloured is a reference to the absurdity of a Harlequin’s costume.

(6) Of a greenish-chartreuse color (a specialized use in certain industries and used sometimes both as harlequin-green & harlequin-yellow).

(7) A clipping of “harlequin's mask”.

(8) In writing, something comic, ludicrous or absurd.

(9) In geology, a classification of opal,

(10) In fashion, the use of multi-color combinations in other than an obviously discernible pattern.

(11) In medicine, as harlequin-type ichthyosis, (also clipped as harlequin ichthyosis), a severe genetic disorder that results in thickened skin over nearly the entire body at birth (“harlequin baby” & “harlequin foetus” the historic medical slang although use of both is now often discouraged.

(12) In zoology (as a modifier in the names of certain animals) having a white or light-hued coat with irregular patches of black or other dark colors including various snakes, ducks (used informally), a bat, a moth, a species of darter fish, the mantis shrimp, some insects & beetles and any of various riodinid butterflies of the genera Taxila and Praetaxila.

(13) To remove or conjure away, as if by a harlequin's trick; to perform antics or play ludicrous tricks.

1580–1590: From the French harlequin, from the Middle French arlequin & harlequin, semantically (and in part phonetically), from the Italian arlecchino, from the Middle French, phonetically continuing unattested the Old French mesniee Herlequin (more often appearing as la maisnie Hellequin (the household of Hellequin) although the spellings Harlequin, Halequin, Herlequin, Hierlekin & Hellekin also appear) (a malevolent spirit; leader of band of demon horsemen who rode at night (literally “Hellequin's escort”)), perhaps from the Middle English Herle (the (unattested) King Herle, a figure of legend identified with Woden), from the Old English Herla Cyning (or Herela Cyning; Helle cyn) (King Herle), rendered in the Anglo-Latin as Herla rex and related to the Middle English Hurlewain (a mischievous sprite or goblin).  Although it’s uncertain, etymologists think it likely the Old English forms were related to the Old Frisian helle kin and the Old Norse heljar kyn (the kindred of Hell).  One quirk noted in the theatrical history is the earliest known depictions of Harlequin are of a crass and bumbling servant rather than the amusing and magical hero familiar in the nineteenth century which would imply the accepted story of the origin being with the world of demonic horsemen and dark spirits might be suspect.  The other curiosity is the earliest known reference in a French text but it lists him among Italian characters, so the Italian origin remains probable.  .  Because of its origin in the name of an Italian theatrical character, Harlequin is often used as a proper noun (although the appearance of the initial capital is often incorrect).  Harlequin is a noun & adjective, harlequinade, harlequinery & harlequinism are nouns, harlequining & harlequined are verbs and harlequinesque & harlequin-like are adjectives; the noun plural is harlequins.

The logo and home-kit colors of Harlequin Football Club (1866).  A rugby union club and usually referred to as “Harlequins”, they're based at the Twickenham Stoop in south-west London.

The Germanic links includes the Old High German Herilo (a personal name, derivative of heri (armed forces) and the ultimate source of the Modern German Herres (Army), thus the World War II (1939-1945) institution OKH (Oberkommando des Heeres; the army high command), the companion structures being OKL (Oberkommando der Luftwaffe: the air force high command) & OKM (Oberkommando der Marine: the navy high command), all three structurally subordinate to OKW (Oberkommando der Wehrmacht: the armed forces high command).  To the Allies that was a familiar military structure and it was only after the war it came to be understood how little coordination was imposed by OKW.

Clockwise from main image: Arlecchino, Arlequine, Arlequin & Colombine.  Commedia dell'arte costumes from Maurice Sand's Masques et Bouffons (Masks & Jesters), Paris 1860.

The English comic theatrical genre harlequinade evolved between the seventeen & nineteenth centuries and was a form in which clowns (not all of them in traditional harlequin garb) were the principal protagonists & antagonists.  Originally a physical form of comedy very much in the tradition of the Italian commedia dell'arte in which there were five main characters, the most celebrated of which were Harlequin and his lover Columbine, it evolved from a mime performance with music and a form of dance which, although choreographed, was designed to appear to the audience as unstructured and sometimes chaotic.  Dialogue was introduced as the appeal began to wane but the focus was always on the colorful visual spectacle, usually as relatively brief, intense performances being staged as a prelude to longer musicals, operas or even ballet.  In English theatre, the popularity of harlequinade endured until World War I (1914-1918), historians of theatre noting its successful adaptation to changing conditions in what was becoming a more crowded environment by incorporating increasingly elaborate stage effects.  The advent of cinema in the 1920s was the death knell for harlequinade which, labor-intensive and demanding a large inventory of props and equipment, had become an expensive production although the legacy lingers in the some aspects of the Christmas pantomimes which in the UK remain popular annual events.  The words pantomime entered English in the sixteenth or seventeenth century and was from the Latin pantomīmus, from the Ancient Greek παντόμιμος (pantómimos), the construct being πᾶς (pâs), (each, all) + μιμέομαι (miméomai) (I mimic), thus analyzed as “all on stage miming”, the name persisting as a generic description even after dialogue had been introduced to the performances.

1960s Volkswagen advertizing in the US: inverted snobbery.

In a brief era of unprecedented and not since repeated general affluence, Volkswagen in 1960s America wasn’t able to compete with the domestic manufacturers with advertizing emphasizing the qualities they liked to project: power, speed, style and in some cases, sheer size.  Instead they used a technique the industry called “inverted snobbery” which wasn’t new but the Volkswagen advertizing of the time is thought still a classic example of the type.  Knowing the Beetle had a reputation for being slow, small and anything by stylish, the campaign took those perceptions and presented them as virtues, with wry humor emphasizing practicality and economy of operation.

1960s Volkswagen advertizing in the US, the first VW “Harlequin” (the term not then used).

Also, at a time when Detroit made annual changes, often with no purpose other than to ensure the new cars in the showrooms looked different for last year’s model so status-conscious buyers would be stimulated to update, Volkswagen made a point of the Beetle looking much the same from season-to-season, one from 1954 barely distinguishable from the 1964 model.  For a number of reasons, the company choose usually to run the copy in black & white but there was one which really had to be in color: it featured a Beetle assembled with various panels from models made over five years, each in a different color, the harlequinesque effect said to have been achieved with physical paint on metal rather than air-brushing a photograph (doubts have be cast).  As well as the subliminal messaging about timelessness, there was the practical aspect of parts interchangeability which, so it was asserted, made spare parts more readily available, something which should presumably was intended to work in unison with the advertisement suggesting the most likely need for those parts would be if one let one’s wife drive.  That one might not be published today.

Der Polo Harlekin: Home market propaganda, 1995.

Whether carefully bolted together or just an air-brushed photograph, the harlequinesque Beetle might have remained a footnote in the annals of advertizing had not something apparently unrelated appeared in the 1990s.  It’s all a bit murky but it’s clear that somewhere within Volkswagen (the tales vary), as an allusion to the soon to be announced “block construction” concept (green=paintwork; blue=engines & chassis; yellow=interior; red=special equipment), ten of the new VW Polos were built using panels of four different colors (Chagallblau (Chagall Blue, LD5D), Flashrot (Flash Red, LP3G), Ginstergelb (Ginster Yellow, L132) & Pistazie-grün (Pistachio Green, LD6D) for use as promotional vehicles.  A popular attraction after first appearing at the Frankfurt Motor Show, the much photographed cars generated so much publicity a further ten were built the following year to meet the demand from dealers who wanted one to display in their showrooms.  Selfies weren’t then a thing but many turned up to be snapped by a camera wielding companion and, most unexpectedly, dealers were reporting customers actually wanting to buy one.

Polo Harlekin color chart.

Despite this, Volkswagen’s corporate management wasn’t convinced there would be sufficient demand to make a production run viable but the inquiries from the public continued so a market study was conducted which confirmed the cult was real and it was announced that if 1000 were ordered, 1000 would be produced.  As a novelty, there were also 1000 key-chains with numbered certificates and this was to rationalize the production process because the buyers couldn’t choose the base color (ie the welded components: the color of the chassis, identified by roof, C-pillars, rocker panels & what lay beneath the plastic moldings, carpets and engine bay which was of some legal significance because it was the colored associated with ownership title and VIN (Vehicle Identification Number).  The 1000 were thus produced but in a what sounds a remarkably inefficient way, each Polo Harlekin painted as used on the standard production-line in the base color and then by hand disassembled and reassembled in accordance with the schedule of the Polo Harlekin color chart, the trick being that no two removable panels of the same color were touching.  In the 1960s, the colors had been about engineering; by the 1990s, it was all art.

Polo Harlekin brochure.  The look does seem something which wouldn't appeal to the stereotypical German; it may be they sold well to Bavarians, it being hard to imagine a Prussian driving one. 

Despite the labor intensive nature of production, presumably the accountants would have calculated things and worked out it was less expensive than disrupting the production lines, the same conclusion the Ford Motor Company had reached in 1969 when arranging a small run of Mustangs with the Boss 429 engine.  In the manner typical of such “specials”, added touches included a bright blue leather for the steering wheel, “Joker” plaid upholstery for the sport seats (so admired it would later appear in the “Joker” edition Polo), a Harlekin sticker on the hatch, blue piped floor mats, and Harlekin gear-shift knob.  The other options were the usual array for the Polo, the only surprise for one being which of the four color combinations one would receive when arriving to collect one’s Polo Harlekin.  The 1000 however didn’t satisfy demand so a further 2806 ended up being built, some even with right-hand-drive (RHD), all of which appear to have been sold in the UK, buyers in Australia, Japan and New Zealand denied the pleasure of their own Polo Harlekin.

1996 Volkswagen Golf Harlequin (US market).  The Americans didn't take to the cult as the Europeans had.

Inspired by the European’s embrace of the Harlekin concept, Volkswagen’s North American operation decided the new world too shouldn’t be denied the particoloured treat and in 1996, 264 Mark 3 Golfs (the VW formerly and briefly later known as the Rabbit) were produced for sale in the US, all of course configured with left-hand-drive (LHD), the main visual difference being the use of Tornadorot (Tornado Red, LY3D) while in accordance with local habits, most had automatic gearboxes.  Demand never went close to matching that in Europe and some sat in dealer stock for some time and one dealer in Georgia with eight on his hands had them re-made into single-color cars to attract buyers, the only remaining hint of difference the unique pattern in the gray upholstery.  It echoes what some Plymouth dealers resorted to in 1970 & 1971 to shift the remaining outlandish looking Superbirds (now expensive collectable), buyers of the standard Road Runner then easier to find.  The Golf Harlequins haven’t attained quite that status but the oddballs have a following among VW enthusiasts and seem now to command a small price premium.

Made in Mexico.  1996 Volkswagen Beetle Harlequin.

There was one more Volkswagen Harlequin and it was the rarest of all.  Although production in Germany ended in 1978 (the last cabriolets sold in the US the following year), Beetle production in Brazil lasted until 1996 and in Mexico until 2003.  Officially, all of the Beetle Harlequins were produced in Mexico for the home market and it seems some 141 were made, apparently hand painted on Ginster Yellow bases.  Some have been photographed in Brazil but the factory denied involvement and, given Brazil’s long tradition of improvisation in such matters, it’s likely they were efforts by enterprising owners although it’s not impossible at least some were Mexican 

Nu en Jaune (Nude in Yellow (1908)), oil on canvas by Sonia Delaunay, Musée d'Arts de Nantes (The Museum of fine arts, Nantes, France).

In the sense the colourful Volkswagens are understood, “harlequin” cars predate not only the ventures of the 1990s which came at the dawn of the internet as a mass-market commodity but even the advertisement of 1960.  French artist Sonia Delaunay (1885–1979) was born in Odessa but was adopted by a rich uncle, became multi-lingual, toured the great capitals of Europe and at 18 entered the Staatliche Akademie der Bildenden Künste Karlsruhe (Karlsruhe State Academy of Art) in Baden-Württemberg, Germany.  After two years, she enrolled at the Académie de La Palette (The Palette Academy; 1888-1925) in Paris which had begun as a progressive art school but early in the century it evolved into a kind of finishing school (an “un foutu terrain de reproduction” (a damned breeding ground) according to some critics) for the avant-garde; the alumni of this short-lived institution is a notable list.

The Ball (1913 and originally Le Bal Bullier (the name of a Parisian ballroom)), oil on canvas by Sonia Delaunay, Centre Pompidou, Paris.  Some 3½ m (12 feet) wide, it is a classic piece in the school of Orphism.

Delaunay’s early work reflected both her academic training and the influences swirling around her but what was always striking was her use of color and a reluctance to adhere to the naturalistic.  These tendencies manifested especially in her role as one of the leading practitioners of Orphism, a fork of Cubism which usually is described as an exercise in pure abstraction rendered in vivid colors.  It was in part a reaction to the focus of the mainstream cubist artists on substantive subjects such as people or physical objects and their obvious aversion to using multiple color but as often seems to happen, Orphism did seem to evolve into of l'art pour l'art (art for art's sake).  Orphism seems to have been the at least the conduit through which Delaunay left the world of fine art an applied her talents to fashion, publications, fabrics, wallpaper industrial structures and machines, some of the most memorable of which were cars.

Escarpins (Court Shoes) (1925) by Sonia Delaunay, Musée de la mode et du textile, Paris (Museum of Fashion and Textiles, 1905-1986) (left) and Propeller (Air Pavilion) (1937), oil on canvas by Sonia Delaunay, a wall-sized work painted for the 1937 Paris Exposition Internationale des Arts et Techniques (International Exhibition of Arts and Techniques Applied to Modern Life) (right). 

From Orphism she brought what she called “simultaneity”, the exercise of the interplay of colors, shapes and textures within the one visual space", a dynamic she would play with when posing with some of her creations, wearing clothing also rendered in the “simultaneity” style.  Even early in the century there had been “stunts” and debates about “what is art” and there is much in what Delaunay produced which can be seen as a precursor to later movements like surrealism and pop art although for those who want to deconstruct as reductively as the record allows, in a sense the path from some elements in prehistoric cave drawings to Dame Vivienne Westwood (1941–2022)  is lineal (with the odd diversion).

Vogue, January 1925, cover art by Georges Lepape.

Cars were among the many machines Delaunay decorated.  Triangles (and the diamond shapes they could combine to create) were one of the notable motifs of the art deco era.  From the start, Vogue was of course about frocks, shoes and such but its influence extended over the years to fields as diverse as interior decorating and industrial design.  The work of Georges Lepape (1887-1971) has long been strangely neglected in the history of art deco but he was a fine practitioner whose reputation probably suffered because his compositions have always been regarded as derivative or imitative which seems unfair given there are many who are more highly regarded despite being hardly original.  His cover art for Vogue’s edition of 1 January 1925 juxtaposed one of Delaunay’s (1885–1979) "simultaneous" pattern dresses and a Voisin roadster she'd decorated with an art deco motif.

1927 Voisin C14 Lumineuse,

One collector in 2015 was so taken with Pepape’s image that when refurbishing his Voisin C14 Lumineuse (literally “light”, an allusion to the Voisin’s greenhouse-inspired design which allowed natural light to fill the interior), he commissioned Dutch artist Bernadette Ramaekers to hand-paint a geometric triangular pattern in sympathy with that on the Vogue cover in 1925.  Ms Ramaekers took six months to complete the project and in 2022 the car sold at auction for £202,500 (US$230,000).  Produced during the whole inter-war period (1919-1939), the Voisin cars were among the most strikingly memorable of the era although for a variety of reasons, commercial viability was often marginal.  The demise was unfortunate because a manufacturer which once contemplated production of a straight-twelve engine deserved to survive.

Making the strange stranger.

There have been a few French cars which looked weirder than the Matra 530 (1967-1973 and not to be confused with the rather faster Matra R.530 air-to-air missile after which it was named) but the small, mid-engined sports car was visually strange enough although, almost sixty years on, it has aged rather well and the appearance would by most plausibly be accepted as something decades younger.  In 1968, Matra's CEO Jean-Luc Lagardère (1928–2003) commissioned Delaunay to use a 530 as a canvas and she delivered a harlequinesque creation.  The Matra is sometimes displayed though it wasn’t an exhibit at the Sonia Delaunay Tate Modern retrospective (April-August 2015), remarkably the first time her work had been showcased by an English gallery.  Had she been a man, it’s likely she’d be more celebrated.

Lindsay Lohan in harlequin mode.  How fashion critics will react to anything beyond the defined parameters of what's thought within their range of "right" is hard to predict: most seemed to like this.

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, the harlequinesque 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 (three parts) 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 designer's need for the cut of the trousers to reach to the ground is noted but the shoes deserved to be seen.

Croissant

Croissant (pronounced krwah-sahn (French) or kruh-sahnt (barbarians))

A rich, buttery, often crescent-shaped, roll of leavened dough or puff paste.

1899:  From the French croissant (crescent), present participle of the verb croître (to increase, to grow), from the Middle French croistre, from the Old French creistre derived from the Classical Latin crēscēns & crēscentem, present active infinitive of crēscō (I augment), drawn from the Proto-Italic krēskō. The ultimate root was the primitive Indo-European ḱreh (to grow, become bigger).  Correct pronunciation here.  

The Austrian Pastry

Like some other cultural artefacts thought quintessentially French (French fries invented in Belgium; Nicolas Sarkozy (b 1955; French president 2007-2012) from here and there; the Citroën DS (1955-1975) styled by an Italian) the croissant came from elsewhere, its origins Austrian, the Viennese kipferl a crescent-shaped sweet made plain, with nuts or other fillings.  It varies from the French classic in being denser and less flaky, made with softer dough.  First noted in the thirteenth century at which time, it was thought a “sweet” it was another three-hundred years before it came to be regarded as a morning pastry.  Tastes changed as new techniques of baking evolved and around the turn of the seventeenth century, recipes began to appear in Le Pâtissier François using Pâte feuilletée (puff pastry), these being the first recognisably modern croissants.

Culinary histories include a number of (likely apocryphal) tales of why the croissant adopted a crescent shape.  One suggests it was baked first in Buda to celebrate the defeat of the Ummayyad (the Umayyad Caliphate (661–750) was the second of the four major caliphates created after the death of the prophet Muhammad (circa 570-632)) forces by the Franks in the Battle of Tours (732), the shape representing the Islamic crescent moon although more famous is the notion it was designed after the battle of 1683 when the Ottomans were turned back from the gates of Vienna.  A baker, said to have heard the Turks tunneling under the walls of the city as he lit his ovens to bake the morning bread, sounded an alarm, and the defending forces collapsed the tunnel, saving the city.   To celebrate, bread was baked in the shape of the crescent moon of the Turkish flag.

Portrait of Marie Antoinette (1769) oil on canvas by Joseph Ducreux (1735-1802).

The official title of the portrait was Archduchess Maria Antonia of Austria and it was created as the era’s equivalent of a Tinder profile picture, the artist summoned in 1769 to Vienna to paint a pleasing rendering of the young lady the Hapsburg royal court planned to marry off to Louis, Dauphin of France (1754-1973) who would reign as Louis XVI (King of France 1774-1792)).  Tinder profile pictures can be misleading (some pounds and even more years sometimes vanishing) so the work must be considered in that context although she was barely fourteen when she sat so it may be true to the subject.  Ducreux’s portrait was the first glimpse the prince had of his intended bride and it must have been pleasing enough for him metaphorically to "swipe right" and the marriage lasted until the pair were executed with the blade of the guillotine.  As a reward, Ducreux was raised to the nobility as a seigneur de la baronnie (lord of the barony, the grade of of baron granted to roturiers (commoners)) and appointed premier peintre de la reine (First Painter to the Queen), outliving the royal couple.

A more romantic tale attributes the pastry to Marie Antoinette (1755–1793; Queen of France 1774-1792), who, as an Austrian, preferred the food of her homeland to that of the French court and, at state dinners, would sneak away to enjoy pastries and coffee.  There is no documentary evidence for her having re-christened the kipferl as the croissant but the story is she so missed what she knew as kipfel (German for crescent) that she commanded the royal baker to clone the treat.  More prosaic, but actually verified by historical evidence, is that August Zang (1807-1888), a retired Austrian artillery officer founded a Viennese Bakery in Paris in 1839 and most food historians agree he is the one most likely to have introduced the kipfel to France, a pastry that later inspired French bakers to create crescents of their own.  The first mention of the croissant in French is in French chemist Anselme Payen’s (1795-1871) Des Substances alimentaires (1853), published long after Marie-Antoinette’s time in court, the first known printed recipe, using the name, appearing in Swiss chef Joseph Favre’s (1849-1903) Dictionnaire universel de cuisine (1905) although even that was a more dense creation than the puffy thing known today.

Breakfast in Paris.

Although the famous shape is much admired, for purists, the choice is always the un-curved croissant au beurre, (butter croissant), the more eye-catching crescents being usually the ordinaires, made with margarine.  The taste in the English-speaking world for things like ham-and-cheese croissants is regarded by the French as proof of Anglo-Saxon barbarism although they will tolerate a sparse drizzle of chocolate if it’s for children and food critics reluctantly concede the almond croissant (with a frangipane filling, topped with slivered almonds and a dusting of powdered sugar) is “…enjoyed by younger women”.  Generally though, the French stick to the classics, eschewing even butter, a croissant being best enjoyed unadorned and taken with a strong black coffee and while some will insist this should be accompanied with a Gitanes, that is optional.

The cube croissant, an Instagram favorite.

Although much focused upon, the shape of a croissant of course becomes less relevant when eaten when the experience becomes one of taste and texture.  For that reason the pastry used has long attracted those chefs for whom food offers architectural possibilities and while for more than a century one-offs have been created for competition and special event, in recent years the phenomenon of social media has been a design stimulant, Instagram, TikTok et al fuelling a culinary arms race and patisseries have built (sometimes short-lived) product lines in response to viral videos.  Fillings have of course been a feature but it’s the shapes which have been most eye-catching (and by extension click-catching which is the point for the content providers). There have been “croissants” in the shape of spheres, discs, pyramids, spirals, wedges and cubes, the last among the more amusing with chefs referencing objects and concepts such as dice, cubist art and, of course, the Rubik’s Cube.  Many have been just a moment while some have for a while trended.

Dominique Ansel's Cronut, stacked and sliced.

Some have endured for longer such as the Cronut (the portmanteau’s construct being cro(issant) + (dough)nut) and so serious was New York based French pastry chef Dominique Ansel (b 1978) that in 2013 he trademarked his creation.  In the familiar shape of a doughnut, the composition was described as “a croissant-like pastry with a filling of flavored cream and fried in grapeseed oil.”  Interviewed by Murdoch tabloid the New York Post, the chef revealed it took “two months of R&D (research & development)” before the Cronut was perfected and the effort was clearly worthwhile because after being released in his eponymous bakery in Manhattan’s SoHo neighbourhood, the city’s food bloggers (a numerous and competitive population) responded and within days photographs circulated of dozens waiting for opening time, a reaction which prompted the application to the US Patent and Trademark Office.  In the way of such things, around the planet “clones”, “tributes”, “knock-offs”, “imitations”, “rip-offs” (the descriptions as varied as the slight changes in the recipes introduced presumably to fend off a C&D (cease and desist letter)) soon appeared.  Predictably, some were called “Doughssants” (the Germanic eszett a nice touch) although others were less derivative.

New York Post, August 16 2022.

Monsieur Ansel in 2015 released Dominique Ansel: The Secret Recipes, a cookbook which included the Cronut recipe and the thing in its authentic form was clearly for the obsessives, the instructions noting making one or a batch was a three-day process.  In its review of the year, Time magazine nominated the Cronut as one of the “best inventions of 2013”, prompting one cultural commentator (another species which proliferates in New York City) to observe the decadence of the West had reached the point the breakdown of society was close.  There may have been something in the idea the new “Visigoths at the Gates of Rome” were actually pastry chefs because in the wake of the Cronut the city was soon flooded with all sorts of novel sugary treats, mostly elaborations of croissants, doughnuts and, it being NYC, bagels.  By 2022 the New York Post was prepared to proclaim: “Move over cronuts! NYC's hot new baked good is the Suprême”, the defenestrator from Noho’s Lafayette Grand Café and revealed to be a “unique circular croissant filled with pastry crème and topped with ganache and crushed up cookies.”  Again of the Instagram & TikTok age, queues were reported even though at a unit cost of US$8.50 it was two dollars more expensive than a Cronut, the price of which had increased fairly modestly since 2013 when it debuted at US$5.00.

All the recent variations on the croissant are built on the theme chefs have for centuries understood is the easy path to popularity: FSS; add fat, salt & sugar, the substances mankind has for millennia sought.  Once it took much effort (and often some risk) to find these things but now they’re conveniently packaged and widely available at prices which, although subject to political and economic forces, remain by historic standards very cheap.  Often, we don’t even need to seek out the packages because so much of the preparation and distribution of food has been outsourced to specialists, mostly industrial concerns but the artisans persist in niches.  That’s certainly true of the croissant, few making their own whether basic or embellished and one of the latest of the croissant crazes is FSS writ large: the crookie.

Miss Sina's crookie (without added topping or powered sugar).

A crookie is a croissant stuffed with chocolate chip cookie dough and its very existence will be thought particularly shameful by some Parisian purists because it was first sold in December 2023 by the Boulangerie Louvard, located on Rue de Châteaudun in Paris’s 9^th arrondissement which, in an Instragram post announced the arrival: “Our pure butter croissant, awarded the seventh best croissant in the Île-de-France region in 2022, is made every morning with a 24-hour fermented milk sourdough and layered with Charente butter.  For our cookie dough, we use one of the best and purest chocolates in the world, from @xoco.gourmet.”  Offered originally in a test batch to test the market, the boulangerie soon announced “The concept was well received, so we're keeping it.  Available every day in-store!”

Unlike a Cronut which (at least in its pure form) demands three days to make, the charm of the crookie is its elegant simplicity and Instagrammers quickly deconstructed and posted the instructions:

(1) With a serrated knife, cut open a croissant lengthwise, leaving a “hinge” at the back.

(2) Add 2-3 tablespoons of your chocolate chip cookie dough (from a packet or home-made).

(3) Close the two sections of croissant wholly encasing the dough.

(4) When the dough is almost cooked (time will vary according to oven and the volume of dough but it takes only a few minutes), remove from oven.

(5) Add more cookie dough to the top of croissant and return to the oven for final bake.

(6) When the outside is crispy and the centre gooey, remove from oven and top with a dusting of powdered sugar.

Some crookie critics don't recommend either adding the second lashing of dough or the powered sugar because they tend to "overwhelm" the croissant and limit the surface area, thereby denying the dish some of the essential crispiness.  

The croissant in fashion

Louis Vuitton Loop (part number M81098).  Created by Nicolas Ghesquière (b 1971) for the Cruise 2022 Collection, the Loop is described as a "half-moon baguette" and was inspired by the earlier Croissant bag, the original a less fussy design.

Lindsay Lohan in T-shirt with croissant theme.

While a handbag lends itself well to the shape of a crescent, it does inherently limit the efficiency of space utilization but this aspect is often not a primary goal in the upper reaches of the market.  With garments however, although actually a common component because the shape makes all sorts of engineering possible such as the underwire of the bra or other constructions where any sort of cantilever effect is demanded, it’s usually just an element rather than a design motif.  As a playful touch, a distinctive crescent moon or croissant might appear on a T-shirt or scarf but it’s rare to see a whole garment pursue the theme although they have appeared on the catwalks where they attract the usual mix of admiration and derision.   

Sarah Jessica Parker in "croissant dress".

Sometimes though, such things escape the catwalk.  In 2022 the actor Sarah Jessica Parker (b 1965) appeared in HBO's And Just Like That, a spin-off (2021-2022) of the Sex and the City TV series (1998-2024), wearing an orange Valentino couture gown from the house’s spring/summer 2019 collection.  It recalled a large croissant, the piece chosen presumably because the scene was set in Paris although it must have been thought the viewers needed the verisimilitude laid on with a trowel because also prominent was a handbag in the shape of the Eifel Tower.  A gift to the meme-makers, admiration for the dress was restrained.

Deliquesce

Deliquesce (pronounced del-i-kwes)

(1) In physical chemistry, to become liquid by absorbing moisture from the atmosphere and dissolving in it (best illustrated by the behavior of certain salts).

(2) To melt away; to disappear (used literally & figuratively).

(3) In botany, branching so the stem is lost in branches (as is typical in deciduous trees).

(4) In mycology (of the fruiting body of a fungus), becoming liquid as a phase of its life cycle.

1756: From the Latin dēliquēscere (to become liquid), the construct being dē- + liquēscere (to liquefy; liquescent).  In scientific literature, the adjective deliquescent (liquefying in air) is the most commonly used form.  It was from the Latin deliquescentem (nominative deliquescens), present participle of deliquescere (to melt away), the construct being de- + liquesco (I melt) and familiar in French also as déliquescent.  The de- prefix was from the Latin dē-, from the preposition dē (of, from (the Old English æf- was a similar prefix).  It imparted the sense of (1) reversal, undoing, removing, (2) intensification and (3) from, off.  In French the dé- prefix was used to make antonyms (as un- & dis- function in English) and was partially inherited from the Old and Middle French des-, from the Latin dis- (part), the ultimate source being the primitive Indo-European dwís and partially borrowed from Latin dē-.  The figurative sense of “apt to dissolve or melt away” was in use by 1837 while the verb deliquesce appears not to have been used thus until the late 1850s.  In scientific literature, the adjective deliquescent (liquefying in air) is the most commonly used form.  It was from the Latin deliquescentem (nominative deliquescens), present participle of deliquescere (to melt away), the construct being de- + liquesco (I melt) and familiar in French also as déliquescent.  The figurative sense of “apt to dissolve or melt away” was in use by 1837 while the verb deliquesce appears not to have been used thus until the late 1850s.    Deliquesce, deliquesced & deliquescing are verbs, deliquescent is an adjective, deliquescence is a noun and deliquescently is an adverb; the noun plural is deliquescences.

Deliquesce 1, oil on canvas by Tammy Flynn Seybold (b 1966).

This was the first in the Deliquesce Series, a group of works exploring the themes of transformation and conservation of energy in human forms, the artist noting being intrigued by the deceptively ephemeral nature of materials: “We think of objects - human forms included - as decaying, degrading or ‘disappearing’ but, as we know from the laws of thermodynamics, all energy is conserved - like matter, it is merely transformed from one form to another.  This work, painted with pastel-hued oils was made directly from a live model, the drips allowed organically to happen from her languid form and by using light, bright hues, I hoped to bring a spirit of optimism to this transformative process.”

A footnote to the addition of deliquesce to scientific English is a tale of the chance intersection of politics and chemistry.  Dr Charles Lucas (1713–1771) was an Anglo-Irish physician who held the seat of Dublin City in the Irish Parliament and was what now would be called “a radical”, dubbed at the time “Irish Wilkes” (a nod to the English radical politician John Wilkes (1725–1797).  His early career was as an apothecary and he was shocked discover the fraud and corruption which permeated the industry and in an attempt to reform the abuses published A Short Scheme for Preventing Frauds and Abuses in Pharmacy (1735) which much upset his fellow apothecaries who were the beneficiaries of the crooked ways but the parliament did respond and created legislation regulating standards in medicines and providing for the inspection of the products; it was the first of its kind in the English-speaking world and the ancestor of the elaborate framework of rules today administered by entities such as the US FDA (Food & Drug Administration.  Encouraged, he later published Pharmacomastix, or the Office, Use, and Abuse of Apothecaries Explained (1741), the contents of which were used by the parliament to make certain legislative amendments.

However, as well as a radical, Lucas was a idealist and while the establishment was content to support him in matter of pills and potions, when he intruded into areas which disturbed the political equilibrium, they were less tolerant and, facing imprisonment, Lucas fled to the continent where he’d decided to study medicine, graduating as a doctor in 1752.  One of his first projects as a physician was a study of the composition of certain mineral waters, substances then held to possess some remarkable curative properties (something actually not without some basis).  To undertake his research he visited a number of sites including Spa, Aachen in what is now North Rhine-Westphalia and Bath in the English county of Somerset.  The material he assembled and published as An Essay on Waters. In three Parts: (i) of Simple Waters, (ii) of Cold Medicated Waters, (iii) of Natural Baths (1756) and it was in this work that the verb “deliquesce” first appeared.  Ever the “disturber” Dr Lucas’s tract upset the medical establishment in much the same way two decades earlier he’d stirred the enmity of the apothecaries, the cluster of physicians clustered around the Bath spa angered the interloper hadn’t consulted with them on a topic over which they asserted proprietorship.

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

In chemistry, the companion word of deliquescence is hygroscopy, both describing phenomena related to the ability of substances to absorb moisture from the surrounding environment, but they differ in extent and behavior.  Hygroscopy refers to the ability of a substance to absorb moisture from the air when exposed; hygroscopic substances can attract and hold water molecules onto their surface but tend not to dissolve.  Many salts behave thus and a well-known example of practical application is the silica gel, which, in small porous packages, is often used as a desiccant to absorb moisture in packaging. Deliquescence can be thought of an extreme form of hygroscopy (hydroscopy taken to its natural conclusion) in that a substance which deliquesces not only absorbs moisture from the air but also absorbs it to the point where it dissolves completely in the absorbed water, forming a solution.  In the natural environment, this happens most frequently when the relative humidity of the surrounding air is high and the classic deliquescent substances are salts like calcium chloride, magnesium chloride, zinc chloride, ferric chloride, carnallite, potassium carbonate, potassium phosphate, ferric ammonium citrate, ammonium nitrate, potassium hydroxide, & sodium hydroxide.  Presumably because deliquescence is the extreme form of hydroscopy it was the former which came to be used figuratively (dissolving into “nothing”) while the latter did not.

At the chemical level, hygroscopy (a class in which scientists include deliquescence as a sub-set) describes the phenomenon of attracting and holding water molecules via either absorption or adsorption (the adhesion of a liquid or gas on the surface of a solid material, forming a thin film on the surface.) from the surrounding environment.  Hygroscopy is integral to the biology of many plant and animal species' attainment of hydration, nutrition, reproduction and/or seed dispersal.  Linguistically, hygroscopy is quirky in that the construct is hygro- (moisture; humidity), from the Ancient Greek ὑγρός (hugrós) (wet, moist) + -scopy (observation, viewing), from the Ancient Greek σκοπέω (skopéō) (to see (and the source of the Modern English “scope”) yet unlike other forms suffixed by “-scopy”, it no longer conveys the sense of “viewing or imaging”.  Originally that was the case, a hygroscope in the late eighteenth century understood as a device used to measure humidity but in a wholly organic way this use faded (“dissolving deliquescently to nothing” as it were) while hygroscopic (tending to retain moisture) & hygroscopy (the ability to do so) endured.  The modern instrument used to measure humidity is hygrometer, the construct being hygro- + -meter (the suffix from the Ancient Greek μέτρον (métron) (measure) used to form the names of measuring devices.

Inquire & Enquire

Inquire (pronounced in-kwahyuhr)

(1) To seek information by questioning; to ask.

(2) To make an investigation (usually followed by into).

(3) To seek (obsolete).

(4) To question (a person) (obsolete).

1250–1300: From the Middle English enqueren & anqueren (to ask (a question), ask about, ask for (specific information); learn or find out by asking, seek information or knowledge; to conduct a legal or official investigation (into an alleged offense)), from the Latin inquīrere (to seek for), replacing the Middle English enqueren, from the Old French enquerre, also from Latin.  The construct in Latin was from in- (into) + quaerere (to seek).  The prefix -in is quirky because it can act either to negate or intensify.  The general rule is that when prepended to a noun or adjective, it reinforces the quality signified and when prepended to an adjective, it negates the meaning, the latter mostly in words borrowed from French.  The Latin prefix in- was from the Proto-Italic en-, from the primitive Indo-European n̥- (not), the zero-grade form of the negative particle ne (not) and was akin to ne-, nē & nī.  In Modern English it is from the Middle English in-, from Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in, from the primitive Indo-European en.  Inquiry & inquirer are nouns, inquiring is a noun, verb & adjective, inquires is a verb, inquirable & inquisitive are adjective and inquiringly is an adverb; the noun plural is inquiries.  The verb inquireth is listed by most as archaic and forms such as reinquired & reinquiring have been coined as needed.

So the in- in inquire is not related to in- (not), also a common prefix in Latin and this created a tradition of confusion which persists to this day.  In Ancient Rome, impressus could mean "pressed" or "unpressed; inaudire meant "to hear" but inauditus meant "unheard of; invocatus was "uncalled, uninvited," but invocare was "to call, appeal to".  In Late Latin investigabilis could mean "that may be searched into" or "that cannot be searched into”.  English picked up the confusion and it’s not merely a linguistic quirk because mixing up the meaning of inflammable could have ghastly consequences.  Fortunately, some of the duplicity has died out: Implume, noted from the 1610s meant "to feather," but implumed (from a decade or more earlier meant "unfeathered".  Impliable could be held to mean "capable of being implied" (1865) or "inflexible" (1734).  Impartible in the seventeenth century simultaneously could mean "incapable of being divided" or "capable of being imparted" and, surprisingly, impassionate can mean "free from passion" or "strongly stirred by passion" (used wrongly that certainly could have inintended consequences).  The adjective inanimate was generally understood to indicate "lifeless" but John Donne (1572–1631), when using inanimate as a verb meant "infuse with life or vigor." Irruption is "a breaking in" but irruptible is "unbreakable".

In addition to improve "use to one's profit", Middle English also had the fifteenth century verb improve meaning "to disprove".  To inculpate is "to accuse," but inculpable means "not culpable, free from blame".  Infestive (a creation of the 1560s, from infest) originally meant "troublesome, annoying" but by the 1620s meant "not festive".  Bafflingly, in Middle English, inflexible could mean both "incapable of being bent" or "capable of being swayed or moved".  During the seventeenth century, informed could mean "current in information" formed, animated" or "unformed, formless", an unhelpful situation the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) described as “an awkward use".  Just a bizarre was that in the mid-sixteenth century inhabited meant "dwelt in" yet within half-a-century was being used to describe "uninhabited".  Some dictionaries insist the adjectives unenquired & unenquiring really exist but there’s scant evidence of use.  A noted derivation with some history is inquisitor.  Synonyms and words with a similar sense include examine, inspect, interrogate, investigate, analyze, catechize, explore, grill, hit, knock, probe, check, prospect, pry, query, question, roast, scrutinize, search, seek & sift.

Enquire (pronounced en-kwahyuhr)

A variant form of inquire

Circa 1300: From the Middle English enqueren & anqueren, (to ask (a question), to ask about, to ask for (specific information); learn or find out by asking, seek information or knowledge; to conduct a legal or official investigation (into an alleged offense)), from the Old French enquerre (to ask, inquire about) (which persists in Modern French as enquérir) and directly from the Medieval Latin inquīrere (to seek for).  As long ago as the fourteenth century the spelling of the English word was changed following the Latin model, but, in the annoying way that happens sometimes in English, the half-Latinized enquire persists and some people have even invented “rules” about when it should be used instead of inquire.   Sensibly, the Americans ignore these suggestions and use inquire for all purposes.  In Old French the Latin in- often became en- and such was the influence on Middle English that the form spread and although English developed a strong tendency to revert to the Latin in-, this wasn’t universal, thus pairs such as enquire/inquire which is why there must always be some sympathy for those learning the language.  There was a native form, which in West Saxon usually appeared as on- (as in the Old English onliehtan (to enlighten)) and some of those verbs survived into Middle English (such as inwrite (to inscribe)) but all are said now to be long extinct.

Enquire or inquire?

Lindsay Lohan says the spelling is "inquiry" so that must be right.

The English word was re-spelled as early as the fourteenth century on the Latin model but the half-Latinized "enquire" has never wholly gone away.  Outside of North America, it's not unknown to come across documents where "inquire" & "enquire" both appear, not in tribute to a particular "rule" of use but just because it hasn't been noticed; it's probably most associated with documents which are partially the product of chunks of texts being "cut and paste".  In the US, where the enquire vs inquire "problem" doesn’t exist because inquire is universal, this must seem a strange and pointless squabble because hearing a sentence like "She enquired when the Court of Inquiry was to hold its hearings" would unambiguously be understood and if written down, there could be no confusion if the spelling forms were to appear in either order.  So,  some hold it would be a fine idea if the rest of the English-speaking world followed the sensible lead of the Americans and stuck to "inquire" but history suggests that’s not going to happen and some suggestions for a convention of use have been offered:

(1) Enquire & enquiry are "formal" words to convey the sense of "ask" whereas inquire & inquiry are used to describe some structured form of investigation (such as a "Court of Inquiry").

(2) Enquire is to be used in informal writing and inquire in formal text.

Neither of those suggestions seem to make as much sense as adopting the US spelling and probably just adds a needless layer to a simple word; enquire and inquire mean the same thing: to ask, to seek information, or to investigate. One is therefore unnecessary and enquire should be retired, simply on the basis the Americans already have and there’s lots of them.  Those who resist should follow the one golden rule which is consistency: whatever convention of use is adopted, exclusively it should be used. 

The ultimate court of inquiry, the Spanish Inquisition and the DDF

The Spanish Inquisition, conducting their inquiries.

The Tribunal del Santo Oficio de la Inquisición (Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition), known famously as the Inquisición española (Spanish Inquisition) was created in 1478 by the Roman Catholic Monarchs, King Ferdinand II (1452–1516; king of Aragon 1479-1516, king of Castile 1475-1504 (as Ferdinand V)) and Queen Isabella I (1451–1504; queen of Castile 1474-1504, queen of Aragon 1479-1504), its remit the enforcement of orthodox Church doctrine in their kingdoms.  Ostensibly established to combat heresy in Spain (though eventually its remit extended throughout the Spanish Empire), the real purpose was to consolidate the power of the monarchy of the newly unified Spanish kingdom.  Its methods were famously brutish and although many records were lost, it's thought close to two hundred-thousand individuals came to the attention of the Inquisition and as many as five-thousand may have been killed; during the tenure of Castilian Dominican friar Tomás de Torquemada (1420–1498), the first grand inquisitor, it's believed some two-thousand were burned at the stake.  Suppressed first by Joseph-Napoléon Bonaparte (1768–1844; king of Naples (1806–1808) and king of Spain (1808–1813)) in 1808, it was restored by Ferdinand VII (1784–1833; king of Spain 1808 & 1813-1830) in 1814, suppressed in 1820, and restored in 1823.  It was finally abolished in 1834 by the Spanish queen regent María Cristina de Borbón (Maria Christina of the Two Sicilies 1806–1878; queen consort of Spain from 1829-1833 and regent of the Kingdom 1833-1840).  Historians have noted that although the Spanish Inquisition didn't last into the twentieth century, there were more than echoes of its methods & techniques witnessed (on both sides) during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939).  

Rome certainly understood the need to enforce doctrine and punish heretics but they wanted control of the processes, aware even then some of the excesses were proving to be counter-productive and the imperative was to create a body under the direct jurisdiction of the Holy See.  Formed in 1542, was emerged was an institution which in recent years has had a few instances of what in commerce (and increasingly by governments too) is called "re-branding".  Originally named the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Roman and Universal Inquisition, between 1908-1965 it was known as the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office before becoming Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), its best-known prefect (head) being the the German Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (1927–2022) who, after serving as Chief Inquisitor between 1982-2005) was elected pope as Benedict XVI, serving until his unusual (though not unprecedented) resignation in 2013 when he decided to be styled pope emeritus, living in a kind of papal granny flat in the Vatican until his death.  In 2022, the institution was re-named the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (DDF) and despite it all, many continue to refer to it as "The Holy Office" (in public) or "The Inquisition" (in private).  There are now (even when under Cardinal Ratzinger as far as in known) no more torture chambers or burnings at the stake but the DDF remains a significant factional player in curia politics although Vatican watchers have detected a grudging softening in the DDF's expressions of doctrinal rigidity since the election of Pope Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013).