Parasol & Umbrella

Parasol (pronounced par-uh-sawl or par-uh-sol)

(1) A type of lightweight umbrella used, especially by women, as protection from the sun.

(2) In architecture, a roof or covering of a structure designed to provide cover from wind, rain, or sun.

(3) In bar-tending, a miniature paper umbrella used as a decoration in tropical-themed cocktails.

(4) In aviation, as parasol wing, a wing not directly attached to the fuselage but held above it, supported by either cabane struts or a pylon.  Additional bracing may be provided by struts or wires extending from the fuselage sides.

(5) As permanent or movable features, a sun-shade (usually in an umbrella-like shape) used in gardens and mounted on a stand (the shaft sometimes passing through a hole in a table; these can be foldable and demountable.

(6) In entomology, any of various Asian species of libellulid dragonfly of the genus Neurothemis.

(7) The parasol mushroom, Macrolepiota procera

1610–1620: From the French & Middle French parasol from the Italian parasole, the construct being para- (to shield) + sole (sun); the Italian sole being derived from the Classical Latin sōl (sun).  The rarely used adjectival form is parasoled.  A curious and long extinct Americanism from the late nineteenth century was bumbershoot.  Parasol is a noun & verb; the noun plural is parasols.

Umbrella (pronounced uhm-brel-uh)

(1) A portable, usually circular cover for protection from rain or sun, consisting of a fabric held on a collapsible frame of thin ribs radiating from the top of a carrying stick or handle.

(2) Anything providing protection (usually figuratively).

(3) In marine biology, flattened cone-shaped contractile, contractile, gelatinous body of a jellyfish or other medusa.

(4) In military jargon, something that covers or protects from above such as aircraft safeguarding surface forces.

(5) In geopolitics, as the "nuclear umbrella", a description of the arrangement under which a nuclear-armed state extends its use (either by formal alliance or perception) to non-nuclear states.

(6) Something covering a wide range of concepts, purposes, groups, organizational structures etc.

(7) In zoology, the main body of a jellyfish (the gelatinous material), excluding the tentacles.

(8) In photography (static and moving), an umbrella-shaped reflector with a white or silvery inner surface, used to diffuse or direct light.

1600–1610: From the Italian ombrella and umbrella (parasol, sunshade), diminutive of ombra (shade), an earlier variant of ombrello from the Late Latin umbrella, an alteration (under the influence of the Latin umbra (shade or shadow)) of the Latin umbella (sunshade).  In both Latin and Italian, the –ella suffix was used with female nouns to form diminutives and was the feminine equivalent of –ello.  The slang terms for the umbrella vary: In the US there was "bumbershoot" & "umbershoot" (now less common) while elsewhere in the English-speaking world it's almost always "brolly" (which is never spelled "brollie" although the plural is "brollies"); the old British terms "gamp", "rain napper" & rainshade are all archaic.  The alternative spellings humbrella, ombrella & umbrello are listed by dictionaries variously as obsolete & archaic but all are effectively extinct.  Umbrella is a noun and umbrellaed is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is umbrellas.

Of Sun and Rain

Lindsay Lohan: Tyler Shields (b 1982) photo shoot, 2010.

Although structurally, essentially identical, the convention of use is that a parasol protects from the sun and an umbrella, rain.  In French this is formalised with parapluie (umbrella), the construct being para (to shield) + pluie (rain), pluie from the Latin pluvia (rain) whereas parasol is para + sol (sun).  Quite what Lindsay Lohan's photographer has in mind is not immediately obvious but in tunnels, parasols obviously are never used for their intended purpose and, given they are, by definition, shielded from the rain, unfurled umbrellas are also an uncommon sight.  However, in many of the tunnels used in mining, construction or for non-public access, they would be handy because such tunnels are often damp places and drips are constant.  In mining especially, hydrological management is a significant aspect of site management and many resources are devoted variously (and sometimes concurrently) to (1) getting water into tunnels, (2) keeping water out of tunnels and (3) getting water out of tunnels.

Osculation through gritted teeth: Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017, left) and crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) providing a photo opportunity, Washington DC, 2012.

The car is the official presidential limousine, the nickname "the beast" (dating it's said from the administration of George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009) most popular with the public although to the Secret Service it's believed still to be code-named "stagecoach", a moniker adopted in 1981 because of the agents' association of one-time film-star Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989) with "cowboy western" movies.  Details of the construction of the modern presidential limousines are classified as secret but it's believed the things are built on a General Motors (GM) light truck chassis, the body a kind of "generic rendition" of a 1980s Cadillac (the last time they were close to the classic "full-sized" cars of the 1960s & 1970s), powered by large-displacement diesel or gas (petrol) V8 engines and fitted with some contemporary components (such as the headlamp assembly) to maintain a relationship with the Cadillacs available in showrooms.  Essentially a disguised armored car with extensive internal life-support systems, they're doubtless as safe an environment as is possible but they certainly lack the elegance of the classic presidential Lincoln Continentals of the 1960s, the platform which gained infamy after the assassination in Dallas of John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963).

The Nuclear Umbrella

In geopolitics, the term “nuclear umbrella” describes the arrangement in which a nuclear-armed state extends the coverage of its nuclear arsenal to the defense of non-nuclear states.  Depending on the relationship or what’s politically possible, that can be by means either of a formal alliance or the “manufacturing” of a perception.  The obvious examples of formal alliances include the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO, 1949) and Warsaw Pact (1955-1991), the treaties under which the US and Soviet Union respectively undertook to apply the same threat of nuclear retaliation to an attack on signatory states as was applied to the homelands.  Although not something much discussed at the time of NATO’s formation, the nuclear umbrella later became a significant element in the attempts to limit nuclear proliferation, something which emerged as an issue in the early 1960s when it was feared that within a decade there would be dozens of states with nuclear-equipped military forces.

Members of the FFF (former first family) each maintain their own umbrella.

In situations where nominally allied states don’t have faith in the assurances of their partners, each can feel compelled to maintain their own nuclear umbrella; the term for this is the “independent nuclear deterrent” (IND).  It was the concern that rapidly there would be a growth in the number of nuclear-weapon states that led to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (the NPT, 1970) being negotiated during the late 1960s and the US nuclear umbrella strategy underpins its effectiveness.

For its effectiveness to be maintained, the nuclear umbrella relies on its credibility and in this there are two aspects: (1) the states enjoying the umbrella’s protection must believe that if attacked, they could rely on their protector using their using the nuclear arsenal for their defense and (2) all potential adversaries must share this perception.  Since 1949, the “adversary” states have either believed this or not been prepared to take a risk by embarking on military action against those under the umbrella but among allies, there has been less certainty.  While there tensions within the Warsaw Pact, these were related to ideology rather than anything to do with military matters, within the US alliance systems such have been the concerns, very much because the perception of threat from Moscow and Beijing was much greater.

By contrast, the earlier British development of an independent nuclear deterrent was a special case in unique circumstances.  The British regarded the development of the original atomic bombs as a co-operative venture with the US (albeit it one in which their contribution rapidly diminished) and were miffed when US co-operation abruptly was withdrawn after 1945 and, understanding the implications of the new weapon, believed that their ongoing status as a world power depended upon its possession.  Although it wouldn't be until 1989 the musician Frank Zappa (1940-1993) published The Real Frank Zappa Book, His Majesty’s government in the 1940s would have agreed with the passage which read “…that to be a real country, you need to have a beer and an airline.  It helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a beer.”

France also adopted an IND, not because of any premonition of Zapparian theory but because Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970; President of France 1959-1969) wasn’t certain a US president would order a nuclear strike if squadrons of Soviet tanks were spearheading 200 Red Army divisions rolling Western Europe or, as he put it: “Would the White House risk New York to save Paris?”, the same sentiment which would later compel him to withdraw France from NATO’s unified command.  The same unease is said also to be increasing east of Suez and in both Seoul and Tokyo there are murmurings of the need for an IND in an increasingly tense region, concerns heightened by some recent comments by Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021).  Both Japan (In Japanese, the figurative noun “nuclear umbrella” is 核の傘) and South Korea (the Republic of Korea (RoK)) have for decades prospered under the US umbrella and for either country to seek to adopt their own would introduce a new dynamic with unpredictable consequences.  Many years ago, the Chinese foreign ministry organized some “leaks” which made clear that were Japan to seek an IND (something all agree it has the technical and industrial capacity to achieve within months), they could expect a preventative strike.  Whether or not that’s literally true, just the possibility of what would be unleashed does terrify.

Réclame

Réclame (pronounced rey-klahm)

(1) In historic French use, publicity; self-advertisement; notoriety (in a positive sense).

(2) In historic French use, a talent for generating interest & getting attention; a gift for dramatization; a hunger for publicity.

(3) In modern English use (as a critique of social media content, celebrity culture etc), of public attention or acclaim achieved to an extent disproportionate to value or achievement.

1865–1870: From the French réclame, from the early fourteenth century reclaimen (call back a hawk to the glove) from the Old French reclamer (to call upon, invoke; claim; seduce; to call back a hawk) (which in the twelfth century entered Modern French as “réclamer”) and directly from the Latin reclāmāre.  Because the hawks used in falconry were, by definition, tame, “reclaim” by the mid fifteenth century was used to mean “make tame” (ie “reclaimed from the wild state of nature”), the use taken from the late fourteenth century sense of “subdue, reduce to obedience, make amenable to control”.  In Middle English, many “re-” words had conveyed no sense of “return or reciprocation”, the meaning “revoke” (an award, grant, gift etc) dating from the late fifteenth century while the sense of “recall (someone) from an erring course and direct them to a proper state” had emerged decades earlier.  The sense of “get back by effort” is thought by etymologists to have evolved under the influence of claim and the specific meaning “bring waste land into useful condition fit for cultivation” seems first to have been used in the context of agriculture in 1764, the idea again being again on the probably on notion of “reclaimed from the wild state of nature” rather than a suggestion of a return to a previous state of cultivation (although there were instances of both).  Land reclamation (the extending of the area available for urban settlement has been practiced for thousands of years but it has been practiced at scale only since the mid-nineteenth century when large-capacity mechanical devices became available.  Réclame is a noun; the noun plural is réclames.

In French, réclame was a noun & verb and by the mid nineteenth century it was used usually to mean “a small advertisement” of the type which typically appeared in newspapers or other publications (as opposed to billboards or banners or buildings).  Depending in context, the forms avertissement & publicité (often clipped to pub) could be used as synonyms.  The word spread in Europe and other colonial empires including the Mauritian Creole reklam, the Danish reklame, the Dutch reclame, the Indonesian reklame, the German Reklame, the Hungarian reklám, the Polish reklama, the Romanian reclamă, the Italian reclame, the Norwegian Bokmål reklame, the Norwegian Nynorsk reklame, the Spanish reclame, the Swedish reklam, the Finnish reklaami, the Turkish reklam, the Estonian reklaam and the Russian рекла́ма rekláma.  The noun in French has a special use in the sport of falconry (in the sense of “reclaim”) where it was a call and sign for the bird of prey to return to the gauntlet of the falconer.  The use in falconry was inherited from the Old French verb reclamer (to implore; to shout to), from the Latin reclāmāre, from reclāmō, the construct being re- (used as an intensifier in the sense of “opposite, against” + clāmō (cry out, shout), from the primitive Indo-European root kele (to shout).  In the Old French, as a transitive verb, reclamer could mean (1) to protest, (2) to object or (3) to claim, reclaim.

In English, for centuries, words have come and gone, some going extinct and some later revived, sometimes enduringly.  The twenty-first century rediscovery of réclame though is unusual in that when reclame previously was used in English it was as an alternation spelling or reclaim whereas the newly re-purposed réclaim is a borrowing from late nineteenth century Modern French.  That which is embarked upon in the quest for fame or notoriety can be described neutrally (commercial, promotion, advertizing, content provision etc) or negatively (hoopla, hype, noise, propaganda etc) and réclame recently was added the latter class.  It is used to describe those who by virtue of their activities on social media, in “reality” content generally or as part of celebrity culture have achieved a level of acclaim or public attention wildly disproportionate to any substantive achievement or contribution.

L'Homme réclame (Publicity man, 1926), collage on cardboard by Aleksandra Ekster (1882-1949), collection of the National Gallery of Australia (Accession Number: 77.11.1 (1977)).

Aleksandra Ekster (who in the West is often exhibited as Alexandra Exter)) was a Russian artist whose work covered a remarkable range of twentieth century movements.  Beginning as a noted figure in the pre-revolutionary Russian avant-garde before moving to the West, her output included Cubism, Futurism and even some in the vein of Vorticism although it was Art Deco which owes her the greatest debt and her influence there was neglected by historians until recently.  Had she been a man, she might earlier have been better appreciated.

Réclame as now used is thus a word of cultural snobbery and one which encapsulates a certain hierarchical model of what’s a respectable profile and what’s not: being “Instagram famous” definitely is not.  Curiously, it seems the word is deployed as a weapon by those with definite opinions on the difference between “high quality” pop culture and that in the field less deserving rather than by those of the type who distinguish only between the “high or experimental” and “everything else”.  As a critique, réclame is a new way of describing those “famous for being famous”, a characteristic identifiable in the West for well over a century but now a genuine mass-phenomenon because the distribution channels have become so extensive and wide.  What is derided as the community of réclame is just a business model in action, content providers providing supply to fulfill demand.  Of course, the model has operated to increase both the audience and the volume of aggregate demand, something which seems further to depress the critics but culturally, probably little has changed in the internet age; it’s just that things are on a bigger scale and more obvious.

Paris Hilton (b 1981, left) & Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, right), Los Angeles, 2003.

Also helpful in many ways is Ms Hilton’s recently published book Paris: The Memoir (Harper Collins London, (2023), pp 336, ISBN 0-0632-2462-3) which, while genuinely a memoir is interesting too for the deconstruction of the subject the author provided in a number of promotional interviews.  There have over the years been many humorless critics who have derided Ms Hilton for being “famous for being famous” but the book makes clear being the construct that is Paris Hilton is a full-time job, one which demands study and an understanding of the supply & demand curves of shifting markets; a personality cult needs to be managed.  She displays also a sophisticated understanding of the point made by comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) who once explained the abstraction of a personality cult by pointing to his huge portrait and saying “…you see, even I am not Stalin, THAT is Stalin!”  Ms Hilton may never have done anything as useful as find a cure for cancer or invent a new nuclear weapon but she’s a cog in the machine which keeps the economy ticking over and collectively, the activities of the réclame set continue to generate a not insignificant chunk of the revenue which funds some of the advances in technology which have been so transformative.  Their contribution need not be seen as culturally inferior to that of the literary festival circuit, it's just different.

Cloisonné

Cloisonné (pronounced kloi-zuh-ney or klwa-zaw-ney (French))

(1) A decorative technique for metalwork, especially brass, whereby colored enamel is baked between raised ridges of the metal; among those for whom "price-taggery" is the measure of things, it was sometimes disparaged as a cheaper alternative to jeweled encrustation or filigree.

(2) Pertaining to, forming, or resembling cloisonné or the pattern of cloisonné.

(3) As applied to metalwork, objects decorated by this technique collectively.

1863: From the French cloisonné (divided into compartments, partitioned (especially in reference to surface decoration)), from the twelfth century Old French cloison (partition), from cloisonner (enclosure; to divide into compartments) from the Provençal clausiō, from the Vulgar Latin clausiōn, stem of clausiō (closed), noun of action from past participle stem of claudere (to close; shut).  The alternative spelling cloisonne is now more common in English.  Cloisonné is a noun; the noun plural is cloisonnés.  The noun cloisonnism describes a school of postimpressionist painting and the verb cloisonner (to partition, to compartmentalize) is French.

Lindsay Lohan wearing vintage art deco bracelet in triangulated black & white, May 2007.

There were several steps in the cloisonné enamel process and they have been little changed since the process was first used in Egypt prior to 1800 BC when gold ornaments were inlaid with small pieces of turquoise, lapis lazuli, carnelian and garnet, the inlays held in position by ribs soldered to the gold base.  Although there’s no surviving evidence in archaeological digs, the speculation of Egyptologists is that goldsmiths and glass workers collaborated to forge or fabricate their creations using artificial gems.  Pieces of colored glass were substituted for the stones and some appear to have been cemented in place.  The modern sequence is usually:

(1) Design and Preparation: The artisan will create a two dimensional sketch which develops into a detailed design; this can be on paper or a digital rendering which is then transferred onto a metal object, made usually of bronze, copper or gold.

(2) Wire Application (Cloisons): Thin metal wires (usually of copper or gold) are shaped to suit the design; these are soldered or glued to the metal surface, forming compartments (cloisons).  It’s these wires which lend a three dimensional form to the design, acting as the barriers which will contain the various enamel colors.

(3) Enamel Filling: Enamel (powdered glass which is mixed with water to form a paste) is applied within the cloison compartments.  While there are designs which used only the one shade of enamel, historically the style is associated with contrasting colors, some vivid, some dark.

(4) Firing: Once the compartments have been filled, the object is fired in a high-temperature kiln.  This causes the enamel to melt, fusing it with the metal; depending on the design, multiple firings may be required to build up the enamel layers and achieve the desired thickness and finish.

(5) Polishing: After the final firing, the surface of the object is polished, this both smoothing the enamel to its final shape and enhancing the color.  As part of this process, some enamel may be removed so the metal wires are granted greater prominence better to define the shapes.

French Second Empire gilt cloisonné enamel carriage clock, circa 1870.

The intricate metalwork and detailed cloisonné engravings associated with the clocks of the First French Empire have always attracted collectors and there’s a view in the industry they’re superior in just about every way to those of the Second Empire.  They certainly tend to be more expensive.  There are those who prefer the later clocks, especially the more restrained.  For the discerning, a sub-genre of Second Empire horology was the carriage (or travelling) clock, small, sturdy and created in shapes suitable to packing in regular-sized boxes.  The earliest were purely functional with little embellishment but their diminutive form appealed to designers seeking to create exquisite miniatures.  From the mid-century on, an increasing number were produced for household use and it’s doubtful many were much used by those on the move.

1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4 NART Spider.

The cloisonné "N.A.R.T." badge.

The Ferrari 275 GTB/4 NART Spider was a roadster commissioned by Ferrari's North American concessionaire, Italian-born Luigi Chinetti (1901–1994) who ran the North American Racing Team (N.A.R.T.) and wanted to offer something in the spirit of the charismatic 250 California Spiders (1957-1963).  Built by Ferrari's coachbuilder Scaglietti, the NART Spider was certainly a worthy successor but, being very much a traditional sports car with few of the luxury fittings to which buyers had quickly become accustomed, demand was subdued, most preferring its less raucous companion, the 330 GTS which pampered occupants with niceties like power steering, electric windows and air conditioning.  The NART's high price didn't help and of the planned run of 25, only ten were built.  Thus mostly unwanted when new, as a used car the performance of the 275 NART has been stellar, chassis #10709 selling at auction in 2013 for US$27.5 million.  Informally always known as the "NART Spider" despite the factory not using the designation, the only hint of its unusual gestation was a cloisonné badge with the N.A.R.T.'s logo, installed on the Kamm tail.

1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4 NART Spider.

The NART's existence also created a footnote in the history of Ferrari nomenclature.  Although the ten have always been regarded as official factory models, Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) was noticeably restrained in his enthusiasm for the venture and instead of being named 275 GTS/4 as would have been the current practice, it was listed in the records of both Scaglietti and the factory as the 275 GTB/4 NART spider.  That may have been because there had already been a 275 GTS (1964-1966) although it had been replaced by the 330 GTS by the time the NART cars were built or it may simply have been Il Commendatore didn't like his plans being changed.  Because of the high prices the things attract when from time to time they are offered at auction, the sales are always well publicized and the modern practice seems to be to label them as 275 GTB/4S, 275 GTB/4s or 275 GTB/4*S.  Given the well-known status of the NART machines the appended "S" seems superfluous.

Contumacious

Contumacious (pronounced kon-too-mey-shuhs or kon-tyoo-mey-shuhs)

(1) Stubbornly perverse or rebellious; contemptuous of or resistant to authority; wilfully and obstinately disobedient; rebellious.

(2) In law, wilfully disobedient to the summons or orders of a court.

1590–1600: From the early Modern English contumacious (insolent, resisting legitimate authority).  The construct was the Latin contumāci(a), (stem of contumāx (stubborn; obstinate, stiff-necked)) + (i) + -ous.  The –ous suffix was from the Middle English -ous, from the Old French –ous & -eux, from the Latin -ōsus (full, full of); a doublet of -ose in an unstressed position.  It was used to form adjectives from nouns, to denote possession or presence of a quality in any degree, commonly in abundance.  In chemistry, it has a specific technical application, used in the nomenclature to name chemical compounds in which a specified chemical element has a lower oxidation number than in the equivalent compound whose name ends in the suffix -ic.  For example sulphuric acid (H₂SO₄) has more oxygen atoms per molecule than sulphurous acid (H₂SO₃).  The noun contumacy (wilful and persistent resistance to legitimate authority) dates from the early thirteenth century, from the Old French contumace and directly from Latin contumācia in the sense of “perseverance in one's purpose or opinions; generally in a bad sense; arrogance, inflexibility, haughtiness, insolence (and use especially to describe “obstinate disobedience to a judicial order”.  Contumacious is an adjective, contumaciousness & contumacity are nouns and contumaciously is an adverb; the noun plural is contumacities.

Because there’s such an array of synonyms for contumacious including (depending on context) headstrong, obstinate, contrary, disaffected, factious, inflexible, insubordinate, intractable, intransigent, irreconcilable, mutinous, obdurate, perverse, pig-headed, rebellious, recalcitrant, refractory, stubborn & unyielding, the word is a rare sight but more scare still are the negative forms (noncontumacious, noncontumaciousness, noncontumaciously, uncontumacious, uncontumaciousness & uncontumaciously, the more familiar obedient, tractable & willing much preferred.

The word did though find a niche where it remains.  In legal proceedings, the act of contumacy refers to an individual’s refusal to appear in court when served with a summons or their refusal to comply with the terms of a court order.  The most frequently used sanction available to a judge is to find the individual in contempt of the court.  Historically, in most jurisdictions the offence of contempt was not codified there were no statutory schedules of penalties but over two hundred years ago, in United States v Hudson (11 U.S. 7 Cranch 32 32 (1812)), the US Supreme Court (USSC) held that courts have implied powers, including punishing individuals for contumacy, either by time in jail or the imposition of fines; the USSC did not address the matter of quantum and although left unsaid, the consensus has always been the test would be of “reasonableness”.  The notion of contumacy as an offence was not an invention of the US courts.  In England (where in recent years there has been some codification), it was an early creature of the common law courts and, because the Church of England was an established church, where an act of contumacy was alleged to have been committed against an ecclesiastical court, after 1814 this came to attract the issue of a writ from the Court of Chancery, pursuant to a certificate of request from a judge of an ecclesiastical court.  Prior to 1814, such matters were handled under the Writ de Excommunicato Capiendo Act (5 Eliz. 1. c. 23 (1562)), the literal translation of which was “taking one who is excommunicated”, a authority commanding a arrest whomever was excommunicated, holding them until they repented and agreed to become reconciled to the Church.  Thus incarcerated, the prisoner would be held until a bishop was sufficiently convinced of the sincerity of the sinner’s contrition to send to the court a certificate of request, at which point a judge of chancery would issue to the sheriff a writ de Excommunicato Deliberando (order for the delivery of an excommunicated person).

Allegro

Allegro (pronounced uh-ley-groh or uh-leg-roh or ahl-le-graw (Italian)).

(1) In music, a tempo mark directing that a passage is to be played in a quick, lively tempo, faster than allegretto but slower than presto.

(2) In music (more traditionally), an expressive mark indicating that a passage is to be played in a lively or happy manner, not necessarily quickly.

(3) In music, a piece or passage to be performed in this manner (an allegro movement).

(4) In printing & typography, as the font Allegro, a serif typeface released in 1936 (initial upper case).

(5) In the history of the internet's lists of "the worst cars ever made", British Leyland's Austin Allegro (1973-1982) (initial upper case).

(6) In Italian use, a male given name (initial upper case).

1625–1635: From the Italian allegro (lively; happy, cheerful (feminine allegra, masculine plural allegri, feminine plural allegre, superlative allegrissimo)), from the French allègre, from the Latin alacer (nominative alacer) (lively, cheerful, brisk) (from which English later picked up alacrity).  The Italian allegretto (diminutive of allegro) in musical composition is the instruction to be (brisk & sprightly but not so quick as allegro) was coined in 1740 explicitly for its technical purpose in music and the alternative form was the adverb allegro non troppo, the construct being allegro (fast) + non (not) + troppo (too much), thus understood as "play fast but not too fast".   As well as the native Italian and the English allegro, composers in many languages use the term including in French allegro (the post-1990 spelling allégro), the Greek αλέγρος (alégros) & αλλέγκρο (allégkro), the Norwegian allegro, the Portuguese allegro (the alternative spelling alegro), the Turkish allegro and the Persian آلگرو.  Allegro is a noun, adjective & adverb; the noun plural is allegros (Initial upper case if used of the cars of appropriately named Italian males).

Use as a musical term didn’t actually begin until 1721.  Prior to that, since the early seventeenth century, English had used the word in the sense (brisk, sprightly; cheerful) picked up from Italian and Latin although the original spelling in English was aleger (lively, brisk) from Old French alegre, influenced by the Medieval Latin alacris.  What encouraged the use was the adoption of the word (in its literal sense) by John Milton (1608–1674) who included the poem L'Allegro" in his collection Poems (1645).  L'Allegro (the happy man) was a pastoral poem and critics regarded it as a companion piece for his Il Penseroso (the melancholy man), a work which in some ways anticipated the Romantic movement of the early nineteenth century.  The literary use extended to the term "allegro speech" (a relatively fast manner of speaking), once often used as a stage notation by playwrights although it seems now less common, replaced by terms better known to the young.  This fragment from Milton's L'Allegro is illustrative of the piece's rhythm and movement:

Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathbd smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantasric roe.

Lindsay Lohan merchandize on allegro.pl, a Polish e-commerce site.

The site presumably settled on the name allegro to convey the idea of speed (fast service, fast delivery etc).  Although the word allegro was never absorbed into the Polish language, because of the use in augmenting musical notation, it’s a familiar form throughout Europe.  Polish composer Frédéric Chopin (1810–1849) used it as a title for Allegro de concert in A major, Opus 46 and his work also included three “allegro” movements: Allegro maestoso (the first movement of the Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, Opus. 11), Allegro vivace (the third movement of the Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, Opus 11) and Allegro vivace (the third movement of the Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor, Opus 21).  In an appalling example of an attempt at normative moral relativism, while on trial before the International Military Tribunal (IMT) at Nuremberg (1945-1946), Hans Frank (1900–1946; Nazi lawyer and governor of the General Government (1939-1945) in German-occupied Poland during World War II) suggested that in mitigation for his direct complicity in mass-murder, he should receive some credit for establishing the Chopin Museum in Krakow, something “the Poles had never done”.  Voraciously corrupt (even by Nazi standards), Frank was protected by virtue of his past service as Adolf Hitler’s (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) and remained in his palace until the military collapse of the General Government in 1945 during which some four million people were murdered under his rule.  Remarkably, he handed to the Allies dozens of volumes of his highly incriminating diaries and the IMT found him guilty under Count 2 (War Crimes) & Count 3 (Crimes Against Humanity), sentencing him to death by hanging.  His response to the sentence was to say: “I expected it, I deserved it”, adding: “A thousand years will pass and still this guilt of Germany will not have been erased.”  The latter sentiment he recanted while awaiting execution, suggesting the trial had provided something of a cleansing effect but at the time most regarded that as cynically as they noted his rediscovery of his long abandoned Roman Catholic faith.

Although book burning was associated with the era, much publishing was still done in Germany during the 1930s and the centre of the industry was Frankfurt.  In 1936 the city’s Ludwig & Mayer type foundry released the Allegro typeface, in the tradition of the nineteenth century Didone style but influenced also by the art deco designs which had become popular.  A serif design which relied for its effect on the alternation of thick and thin strokes, it uses breaks in the letter where thin strokes might be expected, hinting at the style of stencils with a touch of the inclination associated with calligraphy.  It was a popular typeface for decorative purposes such as book jackets or headings of musical notation but very much a display font, it works well only above a certain point size and is used almost exclusively for titles.

The Austin Allegro

Aesthetic success & failure: The Alfa-Romeo Alfasud (left) and the Austin Allegro (right).

Often featured (usually with several other products of British Leyland in the 1970s) in lists as among the worst cars ever made, the Austin Allegro was in production between 1973-1982 and actually sold in respectable numbers for most of that time although at only a third the rate of its remarkably popular predecessor (ADO16, the Morris 1100/1300 and its many badge-engineered siblings).  One much criticized aspect of the Allegro was the appearance; it was thought a bloated blob in an era of sharp-edges and wedges and the critique does illustrate just how narrow can be the margin between success and failure in the execution of a concept.  The Alfa Romeo Alfasud (1971-1983 (variants of the original produced until 1989)) adopted essentially the same shape and dimensions yet was praised as an elegant and well-balanced design.  Seen in silhouette, the shapes are similar yet in the metal, the detail differences, a mere inch (25 mm) or two here and there or a subtle change in an angle or curve and one emerges lithe, the other ponderous.

Harris Mann’s 1968 conceptual sketch for the Allegro project.

The Allegro’s portly appearance wasn’t the original intent.  Tasked with designing a replacement for ADO16, the stylist Harry Mann (1938-2023) sketched a modernist wedge, designed to accommodate what was at the time an advanced specification which included all-independent hydraulic suspension, front wheel drive, disk brakes and crucially, new, compact engines.  Mann however began the project while employed by Austin’s parent corporation, the British Motor Corporation (BMC) but by the time substantive work on the Allegro began, BMC had been absorbed into the Leyland conglomerate, a sprawling entity of disparate and now competing divisions which, if agonizingly reorganized, might have succeeded but such were the internal & external obstacles to re-structuring that, coupled with political turmoil and the economic shocks of the 1970s, it staggered to failure, something the later nationalization could only briefly disguise.  Thus Mann’s team learned the clean-lined wedge would have to be fattened-up because not only were the old, tall engines to be re-used but the new engines to be offered as options were bulkier still.  Installed at an angle, which would have demanding some re-engineering but would have been possible, that might have been manageable but what was not was the decision to use the corporate heater unit, developed at an apparently extraordinary cost; it could be installed just one way and it was a tall piece of machinery.  Allegro production ended in 1982 but what its appearance of all those "worst car ever" lists tends to obscure is it wasn't a commercial failure.  Although it sold only about a third the volume of its predecessor (the BMC ADO16 range) which was for most of the 1960s the UK's best-selling car (and an export success, especially in New Zealand), the Allegro existed in a much more competitive market.  Essentially, the Allegro was nearly a very good car and had it been produced by an outfit less inept than British Leyland, it'd probably now be better-remembered.

1976 Triumph TR7 coupé (left) and 1980 Triumph TR8 convertible (right).  It is wholly emblematic of British Leyland that just as the TR8 had become a good car with much unexplored potential, production ceased. 

Mann didn’t forget his 1968 sketch and when the opportunity later came to design a new sports car, his wedge re-appeared as one of the cars which most represented the design ethos of the 1970s: The Triumph TR7 (1974-1981) & TR8 (1977-1982) which weren't quite trouble-free but which sold quite well and, as the TR8 (which used the 3.5 litre (215 cubic inch) Rover V8), represented something in which the potential of the original was finally realized but it was too late for by then the disaster that was British Leyland had eaten itself.  

1960 Plymouth Fury four-door hardtop (left), 1974 Austin Allegro 1750 Sport Special (centre) and 2024 Chevrolet Corvette Z06 coupé (right).

The Allegro is remembered also for a steering wheel which was neither circular yet not exactly square.  Actually the idea wasn’t novel, dating back decades and had been used on quite a few American cars during the early 1960s but on the Allegro it attracted much derision, something not diminished by Leyland’s explanation that it was optimal for the car and afforded a good view of the instruments.  Leyland also attracted the scorn of mathematicians when they called the shape “quartic” because of it being “a square with rounded corners”.  However, technically, a quartic is “an algebraic equation or function of the fourth degree or a curve describing such an equation or function” and sqound (a portmanteau word, the construct being sq(uare) + (r)ound) is the ultimate niche word, the only known use by collectors of C4 Chevrolet Corvettes (1984-1996) describing the shift in 1990 from round to “a square with rounded corners” taillights.  Mathematicians insist the correct word for a "square with rounded corners" is "squircle" (in algebraic geometry "a closed quartic curve having properties intermediate between those of a square and a circle"), the construct being squ(are) +c(ircle).  Few etymologists (and certainly no lexicographers) appear to have listed sqound as a "real" word but it's of interest because it's a rare example of a word where a "q" is not followed by a "u"; such constructs do exist but usually in the cases where initialisms have become acronyms such as Qantas (Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services).  Such words do appear in English language texts but they tend to be foreign borrowings including (1) qat (or khat) (a plant native to East Africa and the Arabian Peninsula, often chewed for its stimulant effects, (2) qi (a term from Chinese philosophy referring to life force or energy), qibla (the direction Muslims face when praying, towards the Kaaba in Mecca and (4) qiviut (the soft under-wool of the musk-ox, valued when making warm clothing).  For a while, Leyland pretended to ignored the pedants but within a year replaced the wheel with a conventional circular design.  Whatever the name, variations of the shape have since become popular with high-end manufacturers, Ferrari, Aston-Martin, Lamborghini and others all pursuing non-circular themes and one is a feature of the latest (C8) mid-engined Chevrolet Corvette, in which, unlike the unfortunate Allegro, it's much admired.

The antipodean Edsel: 1973 Leyland P76 Super V8 (left) and 1974 Leyland Force 7V (right).  Only 10 of the prototype Force 7V coupés survived the crusher but although it offered the novelty of a hatchback, the styling was ungainly and the very market segment for which it was intended was close to extinction.  Even had the range survived beyond 1974, success would have been improbable although the company should be commended for having intended to name the luxury version the Tour de Force (from the French and translated literally as "feat of strength"), the irony, in retrospect, charming.     

Although 1973 was the last “good year” for the “old” UK economy and one during which British Leyland was looking to the future with some optimism, the corporation’s troubles that year with steering wheels were, in retrospect, a harbinger for what lay ahead.  In addition to the Allegro, also introduced in 1973, on the other side of the planet, was the P76, a large (then a “compact” in US terms) sedan which Leyland Australia hoped would be competitive with the then dominant trio, GMH’s (General Motors Holden) Holden, Ford’s Falcon and Chrysler’s Valiant, the previous attempts using modified variants of UK models less than successful.  Leyland at the time kept expectations low, claiming the target was nothing more than a 10% market share and the initial reception the P76 received suggested this might more than be realized, the consensus of press reports concluding the thing was in many aspects at least as good as the opposition and in some ways superior, the country’s leading automotive that year awarding the V8 version the coveted COTY (Car of the Year) trophy.  Unfortunately, the circumstances of 26 June 1973 when the P76 was launched didn’t last, the first oil crisis beginning some four months later which resulted in a spike in the price of oil which not only suddenly dampened demand for larger cars but also triggered what was then the most severe and longest-lasting recession of the post-war years.  Basic design flaws in the body engineering and indifferent quality control contributed to the debacle which is now remembered as the Australian industry’s Edsel and in October 1974 production of the P76 ended and Leyland closed its Australian manufacturing facilities, never to re-open.

1973 P76 with the original sharp-edged steering wheel (left) and the later version, designed for the Force 7 (right).  The P76's steering wheel was one of many flaws which were planned to be rectified (or at least ameliorated) in the "facelifted" version scheduled for 1975 but before the end of 1974 the decision had been taken in London to axe the entire Leyland Australia project.    

Given the geo-political situation, rampant inflation and troubled industrial relations of the time, the P76’s steering wheel is really just a footnote in the sad tale but, like the Allegro’s “quartic” venture it was emblematic of the self-inflicted injuries to which Leyland would subject itself, both in the UK and its antipodean offshoot.  When the P76 made its debut in 1976, there was some comment that the steering wheel’s boss had a horn-pad in the shape of a boomerang, emphasizing the Australian connection but what was criticized was the rim which had bizarre, concave cross-section, meaning a quite sharp edge faced the driver, leaving an impression on the palms of the hands after only a few minutes driving.  The industry legend is the shape was a consequence of the typist (in 1973 it was accepted practice to blame women whenever possible) who prepared the final specification-sheet having mixed up “concave” & “convex” but even if that’s true it’s remarkable the obvious flaw in the design wasn’t rectified at the prototype stage.  Some have doubted the veracity of the story but such things do happen.  On 23 September, 1999, NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) lost the US$125 million Mars Climate Orbiter spacecraft after its 286-day journey to Mars and that was a time when US$125 million was still a lot of money.  There was of course the inevitable review which found the craft’s directional thrusters had, over the course of several months, been incorrectly fired because the control data had been calculated in incorrect units.  The contractor Lockheed Martin (responsible for the calculations) was sending data in Imperial measures (pounds) to NASA, while NASA's navigation team, expecting metric units, interpreted the numbers as Newtons).  As far as is known, neither the contractor nor the agency attempted to blame a typist.

How to make an Allegro look worse: 1976 Vanden Plas 1500.  The consensus among testers was the best place to enjoy a Vanden Plas 1500 was sitting in the back, amid the leather and walnut, most readers drawing the inference that was because one wouldn't have to look at the thing.  One less charitable scribe described it as "mutton dressed up as hogget". 

In another sign of the times, unlike ADO16, one basic vehicle which was badge-engineered to be sold under six brands (Austin, Morris, Riley, Wolseley, MG & Vanden Plas), the only variation of the Allegro was a luxury version by coach-builder Vanden Plas (although there were Belgium-built Allegros and Leyland's Italian operation produced some 10,000 between 1974-1975 as the Innocenti Regent), laden with leather, cut-pile carpeting and burl walnut trim including the picnic tables so beloved by English coachbuilders.  It didn't use the Allegro name and has always elicited condemnation, even from those who admired the Vanden Plas ADO16, presumably because the traditional upright grill attached to the front suited the earlier car's lines whereas the version which had to be flattened to fit the Allegro's pinched, pudgy nose looked just absurd.  Still, there's clearly some appeal because the Vanden Plas cars have the highest survival rate of all the Allegros and now enjoy a niche (one step below the GDR's (the German Democratic Republic; the old East Germany) Trabant (the infamous "Trabbi")) on the bottom rung of the collector car market.  One thing which may disappoint collectors is the Vanden Plas 1500 & 1750 (1974-1982) never used the "quartic" steering wheel although a photograph of one so-equipped did appear in the early brochures, printed before the decision was taken in mid-1974 to replace it with a conventional (circular) design.  The photograph was of what the the industry calls a "final pre-production prototype", a common practice.  

The Alfa Romeo Alfasud

The fate of many Alfasuds.

The Alfasud name (the construct being Alfa + sud) was an allusion to it being produced in a newly built factory in the Naples region, the decision taken after financial inducements were offered by the government, anxious to do something about the levels of unemployment and lack of economic development in the south of the country.  The Italian sud (south) was from the French sud, from Old English suþ, from Proto-Germanic sunþrą.  As a plan it made sense to politicians and economists but, industrial relations being what they were at the time, the outcome was less than ideal.    

In one aspect, the Allegro and Alfasud (1971-1989) were wholly un-alike, the latter infamous for its propensity to rust, a trait shared with many mass-produced Italian cars of the era, the only consolation for Alfasud owners being the contemporary Lancia Beta suffered even more.  The Alfasud's rust-resistance did improve over the years but it remained a problem until the end of production and the industry story has always been that in the barter economy which was sometime conducted between the members of the EEC (European Economic Community, an ancestor organization of the latter-day European Union (EU)) and those of the Warsaw Pact (the alliance between the USSR and its satellite states which essentially duplicated the structure of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)), Italian manufactured goods were exchanged for Russian steel which was reputedly re-cycled but anyway turned out to be of poor quality and essentially porous.  The story certainly is a good fit for the narrative of maladministration and corruption that was Italy in the 1970s but subsequent research has revealed it to be a myth, the sheet metal used in the Neapolitan factory at Pomigliano d’Arco where Alfasuds were made the same stuff that Alfa Romeo used in the facility at Arese in Milan where the Giulia range was produced and their reputation for resisting rust was good.  The evidence suggests all the steel used by the company's local operations came from the state owned Taranto steel mills.  Intriguingly, the factories south & north all used the same paints and the ovens & paint booths were a decade-odd newer in Naples.

Variations on the Alfasud theme: The Sprint (1976-1989, left) and Giardinetta (station wagon or estate-car) (1975-1980, right).

Given all that, the startlingly premature corrosion surprised many within Alfa Romeo and in 1977 a project-team began to investigate the causes and it was afforded some urgency given the reputational damage being suffered by the whole company (ie profits were suffering).  Having determined the core components (paint & steel) weren't to blame, the engineers deconstructed the production process including the system of movement (how the partially completed cars proceeded from start to finish).  What the team found was that while the electrophoresis baths at Pomigliano were state of the art, the inexperienced (and sometimes indifferently-minded) workforce operated them without adequate supervision and quality control, something exacerbated by the chronically bad labor relations, the factory beset by rolling strikes which meant unpainted bodies were often sitting for days.  In the humid climate of the south, condensation gathered, many cars already rusting even before eventually receiving a coat of paint and that the plant was less than 10 miles (16 km) from the coast and the prevailing winds blew from the sea added to the problem, the unpainted Alfasuds often left for days damp with salty moisture.

1983 Alfa Romeo Alfasud Ti QV Green Cloverleaf, one of the industry's longer model names.

The team's findings resulted in a change to the production process for the revised Series 2 Alfasuds launched in December 1977.  The critical parts of the bodyshell now used "Zincrometal" (steel coated with a primer which was a mix of chromium, zinc and an organic bonding resin, baked at 160°C (320°F) which was as good as anything used in the industry.  As a added precaution, a polyurethane foam was injected into the body's boxed sections with a flexible plastic sealant applied at the seams to prevent moisture intrusion.  That had the added benefit of reducing noise vibration & harshness (NVH) while adding little extra weight.  Unfortunately, the tests the engineers conducted to prove the design was waterproof relied on perfectly applied sealant at the junctions but the poor quality control continued and many seams were poorly sealed which meant the foam acted as a moisture store, making the problem worse.  By contrast, whatever its other faults, and there were a few, the Allegro resisted rust like few cars built anywhere during the era, the design sound and that 1970s British Leyland paint thick and durable.  In the years that followed, many would criticize the sometimes lurid and even sickly shades but as a protective coating, it did the job.

Ultimate Alfasud: The Giocattolo.

The much admired coupé variant of the Alfasud was sold as the Alfasud Sprint (1976-1983) and the Sprint (1983-1989); it proved rather more rust resistant.  It was subject to continuous product improvement and fitted with progressively larger and more powerful engines although none were larger than 1.7 litres (104 cubic inches) which limited its use in competition to events where outright speed mattered less than balance and handling.  It handling was about as good as front wheel drive (FWD) got and in events such as hill climbs the things are competitive even today.  The ultimate Alfasud however was the Giocattolo (a play on the Italian word meaning “toy”), built between 1986-1989 in a batch of 15 on Australia’s Sunshine Coast in Queensland.  Instead of the small four-cylinder engines, the Giocattolo was fitted with a mid-mounted 304 cubic inch (5.0 litre) Holden V8, driving the rear wheels through a ZF five-speed transaxle, the combination yielding a top speed of 160 mph (257 km/h), a useful increase of 40 mph (65 km/h) over the fastest of the factory Sprints.  As impressive as the mechanical specification was, the Giocattolos are best remembered for the unusual standard feature of a 375 ml bottle of Bundaberg Rum (the Sunshine Coast's most famous product which began as a way to use a waste-product of sugar-cane processing) and two shot glasses as part of the toolkit.  These days, a company would be cancelled for such a thoughtful inclusion.