Belvedere

Belvedere (pronounced bel-vi-deer or bel-ve-de-re (Italian))

(1) In architecture, a building, or an (often turret-like) feature of a building, designed and situated to look out upon a pleasing scene.

(2) A cigar, shorter and with thinner ends than a corona.

(3) A palace in Vatican City, Rome, now housing an art gallery.

(4) As Fort Belvedere (formerly Shrubs Hill Tower), a country house in Surrey, England, famously the site of the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936.

(5) A widely used name for localities and structures.

Adopted in English in the sense of a “raised turret or open story atop a house” from the Italian belvedere (literally “a fair (ie beautiful) sight”), the construct being bel(lo) (beautiful), from the Latin bellus (beautiful, fair) + vidēre (to see; a view, sight), from the primitive Indo-European root weid- (to see).  The pronunciation is thought to have been influenced by the French form of the word.  The perhaps opportunistic but enduring noun gazebo is said by some to be a facetious formation, the construct being gaz(e) (from the Middle English gasen; akin to the Swedish dialectal gasa and Gothic usgasjan (to terrify) which English gained in the sense of "to stare intently or earnestly") + -ebo (the Latin first person singular future tense suffix, on the model of belvedere.  That’s an attractive etymology but the Oxford English Dictionary dismisses the theory, saying it’s a corruption of a word from the orient, possibly the Arabic قَصَبَة‎ (qaṣaba) (source of the familiar casbah).  Belvedere is a noun; the noun plural is belvederes.

In architecture, the word "tower" is used loosely but technically a tower should rise from ground-level to its conclusion whereas a turret begins part-way up a building, most commonly at a corner.  Historically a turret was something on a small scale (relative to the building on which it sat) and usually little more than ornamental (although for centuries many were part of the defensive system of a fort or castle, both as an observation and fire-point) while a belvedere's sole purpose should be to offer a commanding view of some pleasant vista.

Belvédère du Rayon Vert, Cerbère, France

Closed in 1983, the art deco Belvédère du Rayon Vert is a former hotel in Cerbère, France, built between 1928 and 1932.  What was known as “ocean liner” style was at the time popular in interior decorating but, taking advantage of the shape of the available land, the architect Léon Baille (1828-1932) extended the nautical idea to the whole building which follows the lines of a ship and borrowing further from the decks of ocean liners, a tennis court sat on the roof.  One of the nation’s protected historic monuments, some of the rooms have been restored as apartments and tours are conducted during the holiday season.

The Plymouth Belvedere

The use of the Belvedere name by the Chrysler’s corporation low-priced (and now defunct) Plymouth brand is illustrative of the practice of the US industry in the mid-late twentieth century to create a prestige model which gradually would be moved down the hierarchy as other names were introduced at the top of the range.  The Belvedere nameplate also shifted between market segments, moving from the full-sized to the intermediate platform as Detroit’s offerings began to proliferate as the public (sometimes an economic impreative) began to prefer smaller cars.

1951 Cranbrook (left), 1951 Cranbrook Belvedere (centre) and 1956 Belvedere (right).

Plymouth introduced the Belvedere name in 1951 for the new, two-door hardtop version of Cranbrook line, Plymouth’s first model with the style which would for a quarter-century be a signature of Detroit’s more expensive cars.  In 1954, the name ceased to be an option and the Belvedere supplanted the as Cranbrook as the top-of-the-range model, offered now in all available body-styles (sedans, hardtops, station wagons, and convertibles) in a mix of two and four-door configurations.  The 1951 line looks frumpy now and even then was considered bulbous compared with the more modernist lines coming from the Ford and General Motors (GM) design studios but Chrysler at the time was run by a chief executive who dictated their products had to be able to driven “by a man wearing his hat”.  That view was abandoned for the 1955 models and the refinements which followed the next year were emblematic of the longer-lower-wider dictum which would for a generation dominate the industry.

1957 (left), 1960 (centre) and 1961 (right) Belvederes.

The 1957-1960 Belvederes are among the best remembered from Detroit’s crazy macropterous years, and are related to the final iteration on the 1961 Imperial which featured the tallest fins of the era although it’s the extravagance of the 1959 Cadillac which is most famous.  The 1957 Plymouths, released with the advertising slogan “Suddenly it’s 1960” created a sensation but unfortunately, although immediately popular, the quality control was patchy (like some of the paintwork) and Chrysler's reputation would for years suffer.  The styling lasted until 1961 by which time the craze was over and the big fins looked dated but the replacement was truly bizarre.  Sales suffered but so low is the survival rate of the 1961 Belvederes their very scalloped weirdness has made them a collectable.

1962 (left), 1963 (centre) and 1964 (right) Plymouth Belvederes.

Acting on misunderstood rumors (which some insist was industrial espionage) about what the competition was doing with their full-sized lines, Plymouth "downsized" the Belvedere for 1962, something which in little more than a decade would make sense but it was out of tune with the early 1960s.  That was a shame because the engineering of the cars was solid and many of those who did buy the things expressed satisfaction with the reduced exterior dimensions, noting there was little loss in interior space and those who definitely found an advantage in the lower weight and more agile handling were drivers using Belvederes in competition, the cars successful on both circuits and drag strips.  The styling however was again unfortunate and was soon toned-down; it didn’t become quite as bland as the 1964 Chevrolet (a reaction to the excesses of their 1959-1960 “bat-wings”) which was described as “looking a little like every car ever built” but it was certainly inoffensive.

1966 Belvedere (left), 1969 Hemi Roadrunner (centre-left), 1970 Superbird (centre-right) and 1970 Superbird in NASCAR trim (right)

With the restoration of a full-sized model to the range in 1965, the Belvedere was maintained in the increasingly important intermediate sector (similar in to dimensions to what the full-size cars had been before they became bloated in the mid-late 1950s).  A new trim package called the Satellite was added (a la what the original Belvedere had in 1951 been to the Cranbrook) and, responding to the increased demand for muscle cars, the high-performance GTX was created.  The line was restyled in 1968 using an interpretation of the then popular “coke-bottle” look and it was on this platform that the Roadrunner was built.  The Roadrunner essentially combined a stripped-down, basic Belvedere with the high performance engines and, stripped of any luxury fittings, it was cheaper as well as lighter.  Able to be configured to outperform even the GTX and offered at a price which on any cost/performance analysis was a bargain, it was an immediate hit and the line soon proliferated, Roadrunner convertibles and additional engines soon offered.  The Belvedere's final fling was also its apotheosis, the be-winged Roadrunner Superbird, offered only in the 1970 model-year as a homologation exercise to qualify the aerodynamic improvements for use in competition.  That year however marked the swansong of the Belvedere name, Satellite preferred as it was more in accord with the space age.

Miss Belvedere as now displayed (left), being lowered into her capsule in 1957 (centre) and as exhumed in 2007 (right).

The 1957 Belvedere was used in one of the larger and more unusual time-capsules.  Named Miss Belvedere as part of the city of Tulsa's “Tulsarama” Golden Jubilee Week festivities celebrating Oklahoma's fiftieth year of statehood, the car was on 15 June 1957 sealed in an underground vault to be opened a half-century later.  Intended as a prize to whomever came closest to guessing Tulsa's population in 2007, cognizant of the fears of nuclear war prevalent at the time, the enclosure was built to withstand hydrogen bombs being detonated in the vicinity.  Unfortunately, less attention was given to making things watertight and, when opened in 2007, the Miss Belvedere was found to have spent much of her fifty years wholly or partially submerged, the result a muddy and rusty mess.  Some attempts were made to clean the worst of the damage in the hope a restoration might be possible but ultimately it was determined it was beyond salvation and she's now displayed as a dilapidated relic of a troubled yet optimistic age.

McMansions in their natural habitat.

Rightly or wrongly, many object to McMansions (the large, over-styled, essentially mass-produced houses built for the upper middle-class anxious to flaunt their wealth).  This is often an objection to conspicuous consumption and an extravagant use of resources but students of architecture focus on the confused mix of motifs which so often litter the structures with as many architectural clichés from palaces or castles as can be crammed into the space with little regard for scale or any sense of integrity.  On McMansions, it’s not unusual to see a mix of Corinthian columns, towers, turrets, belvederes, French doors, Gothic arches, flag-poles, stained glass, transom windows, balconies and porticos.  Much of the criticism probably is an expression of resentment that people with poor taste are able to afford such things but as a general principle, in architecture an emphasis on proportion and restrained elegance will tend to be more admired.

Fort Belvedere (formerly Shrubs Hill Tower), a country house in Windsor, Surrey, famously the site of the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936 (left) and Belvedere Palace, Vienna (right).

Lindsay Lohan attending V Magazine, Marc Jacobs & Belvedere Vodka event, Hiro Ballroom, New York City, September 2009.

Satellite

Satellite (pronounced sat-l-ahyt)

(1) In astronomy, celestial body orbiting around a planet or star; a moon.

(2) In geopolitics, as “satellite state”, a country under the domination or influence of another.

(3) Something (a county, sub-national state, office, building campus etc), under the jurisdiction, influence, or domination of another entity; Subordinate to another authority, outside power, or the like (also known as a “satellite operation”, “satellite campus”, “satellite workshop” etc).

(4) An attendant or follower of another person, often subservient or obsequious in manner; a follower, supporter, companion, associate; lackey, parasite, sycophant, toady, flunky; now used usually in the derogatory sense of “a henchman” although, applied neutrally, it can be used of someone’s retinue or entourage (and even the machinery of a motorcade).

(5) A man-made device orbiting a celestial body (the earth, a moon, or another planet etc) and transmitting scientific information or used for communication; among astronomers and others form whom the distinction matters, man-made devices are sometimes referred to as “artificial satellites” to distinguish them for natural satellites such as the Earth’s Moon.  The standard abbreviation is “sat” and the situation in which a satellite is hit by some object while in orbit (which at the velocities involved can be unfortunate) is called a “sat-hit”.

(6) As “derelict satellite”, a man-made device (including the spent upper-stages of rockets) in orbit around a celestial body which has ceased to function.

(7) In medicine, a short segment of a chromosome separated from the rest by a constriction, typically associated with the formation of a nucleolus.

(8) In biology, a colony of microorganisms whose growth in culture medium is enhanced by certain substances produced by another colony in its proximity.

(9) In formal grammar, a construct that takes various forms and may encode a path of movement, a change of state, or the grammatical aspect (highly technical descriptor no longer used in most texts).

(10) In television, as satellite TV, the transmission and reception of television broadcasts (and used also in narrowcasting) using satellites in low-earth orbit.

(11) In the military terminology of Antiquity, a guard or watchman.

(12) In entomology, as satellite moth, the Eupsilia transversa, a moth of the family Noctuidae.

1540-1550: From the fourteenth century Middle French satellite, from the Medieval Latin satellitem (accusative singular of satelles) (attendant upon a distinguished person or office-holder, companion, body-guard. courtier, accomplice, assistant), from the Latin satelles, from the Old Latin satro (enough, full) + leyt (to let go) and listed usually as akin to the English “follow” although the association is undocumented.  Although the Latin origin is generally accepted, etymologists have pondered a relationship with the Etruscan, either satnal (klein) (again linked to the English “follow”) or a compound of roots: satro- (full; enough) + leit- (to go) (the English “follow” constructed of similar roots).  Satellite is a noun, verb & adjective and satellitic & satellitious are adjectives; the noun plural is satellites.  Satellitious (pertaining to, or consisting of, satellites) is listed by most dictionaries as archaic but is probably the best form to use in a derogatory sense, best expressed in the comparative (more satellitious) or the superlative (most satellitious).

Lindsay Lohan promoting the Sick Note series, TV & Satellite Week magazine, 21-27 July 2018.

The adjectival use is applied as required and this has produced many related terms including satellite assembly (use of committees or deliberative bodies created by a superior authority), satellite broadcasting (in this context distinguished from transmissions using physical (point-to-point) cables or ground-based relays), satellite campus, satellite DNA (in genetics, an array in  tandem of repeating, non-coding DNA), satellite-framing (in linguistics, the use of a grammatical satellite to indicate a path of motion, a change of state or grammatical aspect (as opposed to a verb framing)), satellite navigation (the use of electronic positioning systems which use data from satellites (often now as “SatNav”)) and satellite station (either (1) as ground-base facility used for monitoring or administrating satellites or (2) a manned facility in orbit such as the ISS (International Space Station)), satellite telephone (telephony using satellites as a transmission vector)

Sputnik 1 blueprint, 1957.

The original sense in the 1540s was "a follower or attendant of a superior person" but this use was rare before the late eighteenth century and it seemed to have taken until the 1910s before it was applied in a derogatory manner to suggest "an accomplice or accessory in crime or other nefarious activity” although the Roman statesman Cicero (Marcus Tullius Cicero, 106-43 BC) often used the Latin form in this way.  In the seventeenth century, as telescopes became available, the idea was extended to what was then thought to be "a planet revolving about a larger one" on the notion of "an attendant", initially a reference to the moons of Jupiter.  In political theory, the “satellite state” was first described in 1800, coined by John Adams (1735-1826; US president 1797-1801) in a discussion about the United States and its relationships with the other nations of the Americas although in geopolitics the term is most identified with the “buffer states”, the members of the Warsaw Pact which were within Moscow’s sphere of influence.  The familiar modern meaning of a "man-made machine orbiting the Earth" actually dates (as scientific conjecture) from 1936, something realized (to the surprise of most) in 1957 when the USSR launched Sputnik 1.  Sputnik was from the Russian спу́тник (sputnik) (satellite (literally "travelling companion” and in this context a shortened form of sputnik zemlyi (travelling companion of the Earth), from the Old Church Slavonic supotiniku, the construct being the Russian so- (as “s-“ (with, together)) + пу́тник (pútnik) (traveller), from путь (put) (way, path, journey) (from the Old Church Slavonic poti, from the primitive Indo-European pent- (to tread, go)) + ник (-nik) (the agent suffix).

Sputnik, 1957

Russian Sputnik postcard, 1957.

The launch of Sputnik shocked the American public which, in a milieu of jet aircraft, televisions and macropterous Cadillacs, had assumed their country was in all ways technologically superior to their Cold War enemy.  Launched into an elliptical low-Earth orbit, Sputnik was about twice the size of a football (soccer ball) and it orbited for some three more months before falling towards earth, the on-board batteries lasting long enough for it to broadcast radio pulses for the first three weeks, transmissions detectable almost anywhere on earth.  It sounds now a modest achievement but it needs to be regarded as something as significant as the Wright Flyer in 1903 travelling 200 feet (61 m), at an altitude of some 10 feet (3 m) and in the West the social and political impact was electrifying.  There were also linguistic ripples because, just as a generation later the Watergate scandal would trigger the –gate formations (which continue to this day), it wasn’t long before the –nik prefix (which had actually been a part of Yiddish word creation for at least a decade) gained popularity.  Laika, the doomed stray dog launched aboard Sputnik 2 in November 1957 was dubbed muttnik (although the claims it was the first living thing in space have since been disproved because "living" entities were both on board the Nazi V2 rockets (1944-1945) which often briefly entered the stratosphere and have long been present in the upper atmosphere where they’re ejected into space by natural atmospheric processes) while the early US satellites (quickly launched to display the nation’s scientific prowess) failed which gave the press the chance to coin kaputnik, blowupnik, dudnik, flopnik, pffftnik & stayputnik.

Sputnik 1's launch vehicle (left), the satellite as it orbited the earth (centre) and in expanded form (right. 

Although not a great surprise to either the White House or the Pentagon, the American public was shocked and both the popular and quality press depicted Sputnik’s success as evidence of Soviet technological superiority, stressing the military implications.    This trigged the space race and soon created the idea of the “missile gap” which would be of such significance in the 1960 presidential election and, although by the early 1960s the Pentagon knew the gap was illusory, the arms race continued and the count of missiles and warheads actually peaked in the early 1970s.  It also began a new era of military, technological, and scientific developments, leading most obviously to the moon landing in 1969 but research groups developed weapons such as the big inter-continental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) and missile defence systems as well as spy satellites.  Satellites were another step in the process of technology being deployed to improve communications.  When President Lincoln was assassinated in 1865, the news didn’t reach Europe until the fastest ship crossed the Atlantic a fortnight later.  By the time of President McKinley’s assassination in 1901, the news travelled around the world by undersea cables within minutes.  In 1963, while news of President Kennedy’s death was close to a global real-time event, those thousands of miles from the event had to wait sometimes twenty-four hours to view footage which was sent in film canisters by air.  By 1981, when an attempt was made on President Reagan’s life, television feeds around the planet were within minutes picking up live footage from satellites.

1967 Plymouth Satellite convertible.

Chrysler's Plymouth division introduced the Satellite on the corporation's intermediate ("B") platform in 1965 as the most expensive trim-option for the Belvedere line.  Offered initially only with two-door hardtop and convertible coach-work, the range of body-styles was later expanded to encompass four-door sedans and station wagons.  In a manner, typical of the way the industry applied their nomenclature as marketing devices to entice buyers, the Belvedere name was in 1970 retired while Satellite remained the standard designation until it too was dropped after 1974.

1970 Plymouth Road Runner, 440 6 Barrel.

Were it not for it being made available in 1966 with the 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) Street Hemi V8, the Belvedere and Satellite would have been just another intermediate but with that option, it was transformed into a (slightly) detuned race-car which one could register for the road, something possible in those happier times.  The Street Hemi was an expensive option and relatively few were built but the demand for high-performance machinery was clear so in 1968, Plymouth released the Road Runner, complete with logos (licensed from the Warner Brothers film studio for US$50,000) and a “beep beep” horn which reputedly cost US$10,000 to develop.  The object was to deliver a high-performance machine at the lowest possible cost so the Road Runner used the basic (two-door, pillared) body shell and eschewed niceties like carpet or bucket seats, the only addition of note a tuned version of the 383 cubic inch (6.3 litre) V8 engine; for those who wanted more, the Street Hemi was optional.  Plymouth set what they thought were ambitious sales targets but demand was such that production had to be doubled and the reaction encouraged the usual proliferation, a hardtop coupé and convertible soon rounding out the range.

1970 Plymouth Hemi Road Runner Superbird.

The option list later expanded to include the six-barrel version of the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8, a much cheaper choice than the Street Hemi and one which (usually) displayed better manners on the street while offering similar performance until travelling well over 100 mph (160 km/h) although it could match the Hemi’s sustained delivery of top-end power which, with the right gearing, would deliver a top speed in excess of 150 mph (240 km/h), something of little significance to most.  However, by the early 1970s sales were falling.  The still embryonic safety and emission legislation played a small part in this but overwhelmingly the cause was the extraordinary rise in insurance premiums being charged for the highset-performance vehicles, something which disproportionately affected the very buyers at which the machines were targeted: single males aged 19-29.  However, the platform endured long enough to provide the basis for the Road Runner Superbird, a “homologation special” produced in limited numbers to qualify the frankly extreme aerodynamic modifications for use in competition.  At the time, the additions were too radical for some buyers and dealers unable to find buyers were forced to convert the things back to standard specifications to shift them from their lots but they’re now prized collectables, the relatively few with the Street Hemi especially sought.

1971 Plymouth Hemi Road Runner.

The intermediate line was revised in 1971 using the then current corporate motif of “fuselage styling” and it was probably more aesthetically pleasing there than when applied to the full-sized cars which truly were gargantuan.  The 1971 Satellites used distinctly different bodies for the two and four-door models and while there were no more convertibles, the Street Hemi and six-barrel 440 enjoyed a swansong season although sales were low, the muscle car era almost at an end.

Cupola

Cupola (pronounced kyoo-puh-luh)

(1) In architecture, a light structure on a dome or roof, serving as a belfry, lantern, or belvedere (some functional, some merely ornamental).

(2) Any of various dome-like structures (especially in architecture or one covering a circular or polygonal area).

(3) In naval architecture, a protective dome for guns on a warship

(4) In armored vehicles, a raised structure with a narrow aperture for viewing, sometimes fitted with a gun or flame-thrower.

(5) In geology, an upward-projecting mass of plutonic rock extending from a larger batholith.

(6) In metallurgy, a vertical, air-blown coke-fired cylindrical furnace in which iron is re-melted for use in casting.

(7) In geometry, a solid formed by joining two polygons, one (the base) with twice as many edges as the other, by an alternating band of isosceles triangles and rectangles.

(8) In anatomy, a small cap over a structure, shaped like a dome or inverted cup.

(9) In railway carriage design, a small viewing window in the top of the caboose (guard’s van) for looking over the train, or the part of the caboose where one looks through this window (obsolete).

1540–1550: From the Italian cupola, from the Late Latin cūpula (a small cask; a little tub), from the Classical Latin cuppella, from cuppa & cūpa (tub), from the Ancient Greek κύπελλον (kúpellon) (small cup), the construct being cūp(a) + -ula, from the primitive Indo-European -dlom (the instrumental suffix) and used as a noun suffix denoting an instrument.  The origin in Latin was based on the resemblance to an upturned cup, hence the use to describe the rounded top of just about any structure where no specific descriptor existed.  Cupola is a noun and cupolated & cupolar are adjectives; the noun plural is cupolas or cupolae.

Cupola on the dome of St Peter's Basilica, Vatican City, Rome.

In architectural history, the cupola is considered a descendent of the oculus, which may seem strange given the evidence suggests domes came first but a cupola is something which can be added to a dome and the earliest may have been “bolted on” when the open nature of an oculus proved troublesome.  Fitted with one or more windows, they would still permit the entry of light but keep out the wind and rain.  From this functional origin, they became popular as features to crown turrets, roofs, and larger dome.  Confusingly, architects at one point decided a cupola was also the inner vault of a dome so historic plans and descriptions need to be read with care.  Although classically dome-like in shape, most modern cupolas are more angular.

Onion domes on the Kremlin, Red Square, Moscow, Russia.

Cupolas were a favorite in early Islamic architecture and began their proliferation the mid-late eighth century, presumably because they were a perfect decorative addition to a mosque’s minarets but such was the appeal they would appear also in the core of the building or at its corners.  Before long, they were a regular part of commercial and residential buildings, valued not only as decoration but as a light source and for the ease with which they could sit atop vertical ducts used for ventilation.  It was the Islamic influence which was responsible for the best known motif of Russian architecture, the onion dome which was well suited to the northern climate because, constructed with severe lines, effortlessly they resisted the gathering of snow.  The Moors brought the design to Spain and whatever religious conflicts may for centuries have disfigured the Middle East & Europe, Architectural taste proved ecumenical and onion domes can still be seen atop Christian churches in Austria and southern Germany.

US Marine Corps M17 flame-thrower in use, the M1919A4 Browning .30 caliber medium machine gun to the right is hard-mounted in the tank commander's cupola, South Vietnam, 1968.

In military use, a cupola is basically a helmet fixed in place and that may be on a building, a ship or an armored vehicle, the function being to protect the head while offering a field of view.  Sometimes, especially in tanks or armored cars, guns or flame-throwers were integrated into cupolas and in naval gunnery, there was the special use to describe the dome-like structures protecting a (usually single) gun mounting, something which distinguished them from the larger, flatter constructions which fulfilled the same purpose for multi-gun batteries.

Cupola on the International Space Station (ISS), outside & in.  Cupolas are used on space craft because they are a way of maximizing the window space for a certain amount of the hull’s surface area.

McMansion with turrets and cupola.

Although the moment seems to have passed, one recent trend in domestic architecture which really disturbed the arbiters of style was the proliferation in parts of the US of McMansions, huge houses of sometimes dubious build quality often in a confusion of architectural styles and adorned with balconies, turrets, columns and cupolas, the more the better.

Coronet

Coronet (pronounced kawr-uh-nit, kawr-uh-net, kor-uh-nit, or kor-un-net)

(1) A small crown.

(2) A crown worn by nobles or peers (as distinct from those worn by sovereigns).

(3) A crown-like ornament for the head, as of gold or jewels.

(4) An ornament, tending to the pedimental in form, situated over a door or window.

(5) The lowest part of the pastern of a horse or other hoofed animal, just above the hoof.

(6) In heraldry, a crown-like support for a crest, used in place of a torse; also called crest coronet.

(7) The margin between the skin of a horse's pastern and the horn of the hoof.

(8) The knob at the base of a deer's antler.

(9) The traditional lowest regular commissioned officer rank in the cavalry (the equivalent of an ensign in the infantry or navy).

(10) Any of several hummingbirds in the genus Boissonneaua.

(11) A species of moth, Craniophora ligustri.

1350–1400: From the Middle English crownet & corounet, from the Middle French couronnette, from the Old French coronete (little crown) a diminutive of corone (crown) from the Latin corona (third-person singular present active subjunctive of corōnō) (crown), from the Ancient Greek κορώνη (korṓnē) (garland, wreath; a type of crown; a type of sea-bird, perhaps shearwater; a crow; anything curved or hooked (like a door handle or the tip of a bow).  Related in form, if not always function are diadem, wreath, crown, chaplet, circle, tiara, headdress, headband & anadem (a headband, particularly a garland of flowers).  Coronet is a noun; the noun plural is coronets.

Lindsay Lohan in coronet: Mean Girls (2004).

Crowns and coronet are both types of headgear worn as symbols of authority but there are technical differences between the two.  The crown is the traditional symbolic headpiece worn by a monarch and (in some cases) certain other members of royal families.  Fabricated usually from precious metals and adorned with jewels, crowns are by convention taller and more ornate than coronets but this is not an absolute rule and the symbolism of a crown as something representing sovereign power and regal authority doesn’t rely on its size.  Despite that, coronets tend to be smaller, less elaborate versions of crowns and they’re worn by members of the nobility who do not hold the rank of monarch and the consort of a monarch.  According to authoritative English sources, the general specification for a coronet dictates a small crown of ornaments  fixed on a metal ring and, as a general principle, a coronet has no arches and unlike a tiara, it wholly encircles the head.  Helpful as that may be, coronets in the wild are obviously rare (although that depends on the circles in which one moves) but commonly see as rank symbols in heraldry, adorning a coat of arms.  More opportunistically, they’re a popular symbol used in commerce.

Coronets of the United Kingdom.

In the UK, a country where there are more coronets than most, those worn by members of the House of Lords are of a defined designed according to the notch on the peerage one inhabits but surprisingly, they’re worn only for royal coronations so the 2023 event will be their first appearance en masse since 1953.  Outside of royalty, they were once exclusive to dukes but the right was granted to marquesses in the fifteenth century, to earls in the fifteenth, to viscounts (of which there are surprisingly few) in the sixteenth and barons in the seventeenth.  Coronets may not bear any precious or semi-precious stones.

1959 Dodge Silver Challenger

Chrysler’s Dodge division used the Coronet nameplate in a way typical of Detroit’s mid-century practices.  Between 1949-1959 it was a full-sized Dodge, beginning as a top-of-the-range trim before in 1955 being shifted downwards, seeing out its first iteration as an entry-level model.  One mostly forgotten footnote of the first Coronets is the 1959 range saw the first use of the Challenger name.  In 1959 the Coronet-based Challenger was an early example of a model bundled with a number of usually optional accessories and sold at an attractive discount.  The concept would become popular and the Challenger name would later be twice revived for more illustrious careers as pony cars (although the first attempt (1969-1974) was a financial disaster, the cars now much sought-after which, in their most desired configurations trade in the collector community well into six figures with the odd sale above US$1 million).

1979 Dodge Challenger (a "badge-engineered" Mitsubishi).

Although the Mopar crew don't much dwell on the matter, between 1978-1983, Dodge applied the Challenger name to a "captive import" (the then current term describing an overseas-built vehicle sold under the name of domestic manufacturer through its dealer network), a Mitsubishi coupé sold in other markets variously as the Sapporo, Lambda and Scorpion.  Although somewhat porcine (until a mid-life facelift tightened things up), it was popular in many places but never achieved the same level of success in the US (where Plymouth also sold it as the Sapporo), even though that was where the "personal coupé" had become a very lucrative market segment.   

1969 Dodge Hemi Coronet.  By 1969 the writing was on the wall for engines like the Hemi and just 97 Coronet hardtops and 10 convertibles were built.  In 1970, when the last two-door Coronets were made, production had dropped to 13 hardtops and a solitary convertible.

The Coronet’s second run was as an intermediate between 1965–1976 and it’s the 1968-1970 models which are best remembered, based on the corporate B-body platform shared with the Plymouth Belvedere and Dodge Charger.  Plymouth gained great success with their take on the low-cost, high-performance intermediate when they released the Road Runner, a machine stripped of just about all but the most essential items except for its high performance engines, including the 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) HEMI V8.  It was a big hit, the sales wildly exceeding projections and it encouraged Dodge to emulate the approach with the Coronet Super Bee although for whatever reason, it didn’t capture the imagination as had the Road Runner and in the three seasons both were available, sold less than a third of its corporate stablemate.

1967 Dodge “Road Runner” advertisement.

Curiously though, Dodge may have missed what proved to be the priceless benefit of using the Road Runner name, in 1967 running advertisements for the Coronet R/T (“Road & Track” although “street & strip” would have been closer to the truth), which used the words “Road” & “Runner” although spaced as far apart as perhaps the lawyers advised would be sufficiently distant to avoid threats of litigation.  Plymouth solved that problem by legitimization, paying Warner Brothers US$50,000 for the Road Runner name and the imagery of the Wile E Coyote and Road Runner cartoon depictions, spending a reputed (though unverified) additional US$10,000 for the distinctive "beep, beep" horn sound, the engineering apparently as simple as replacing the aluminium strands in the mechanism with copper windings.

Donald Trump admiring the coronet worn by Miss USA Kristen Dalton (b 1986), Miss USA 2009 Pageant, Las Vegas, Nevada.  Although the beauty contest business called them crowns or cornets, most, like that worn by Ms Dalton were technically tiaras.

Appliqué

Appliqué (pronounced ap-li-key)

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

(2) The practice of decorating in this way

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

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

(5) To apply, as appliqué to.

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

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

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

The woodie wagon and the descent to DI-NOC appliqué

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

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

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

"Woodie" is a footnote also in political history.  Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924; US president 1913-1921) was thought a remote, austere figure and not one much associated with the "common touch" politicians like to possess (or fake when it proves advantageous) so he was one day most pleased to hear someone in the crowd he was addressing call him "Woodie".  Apparently, in his whole life he'd never heard any speak of him with an affectionate diminutive and he'd envied his popular predecessor (Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919; US president 1901-1909) who enjoyed many monikers including "Teddy" & "TR" although it's said he despised the former, thinking it effeminate and would rather have been remembered as "the colonel", a reference to his military exploits leading the charge up San Juan Heights during the Spanish-American War (1898).  When a delighted Wilson got off the stage he said to an aide: "Did you hear that?  He called me Woodie!".     

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

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

1949 Ford Custom Convertible “single spinner” (left) and 1951 Ford Country Squire “twin spinner” (right).

May of the industry's visual inspirations came originally from the military, influenced either by artillery and aviation.  The first new Fords of the post-war years came to be known as “single spinners” (1949-1950) and “twin spinners” (1951), referencing the slang term for propeller and even then that a backward glance, jets, missiles & rockets providing designers with their new inspirations, language soon reflecting that.  Over eight generations, the Country Squire was between 1950-1991 the top of the Ford station wagon line, distinguished from lesser models by the timber (or fake timber) panels.  Only the first generation (1950-1951) were true “woodies” with wood (mahogany paneling, accented by birch or maple surrounds) from Ford-owned plantations processed at the company’s Iron Mountain plant in upper Michigan.  As a genuine "woodie" the Country Squire’s production process was capital and labour-intensive, three assembly plants involved with transportation of the partially-finished cars required between locations.  The initial assembly of the steel body was undertaken at Dearborn with the shells then shipped to Iron Mountain plant for the fitting of the timber components.  Upon completion, the bodies were on-shipped to various Ford assembly facilities for mounting onto ladder-frame chassis and the installation of interior & exterior trim.  To reduce costs, in 1951 final assembly was out-sourced to the Ionia Body Company which had for years assembled wood-bodied station wagons for General Motors and in 1952 the mahogany was replaced with 3M’s (Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing) synthetic DI-NOC which emulated the appearance and although eventually it would fade, did prove durable.  The next year, use of birch and maple was discontinued and “timber-look” fibreglass moldings were fitted.  For better or worse, DI-NOC would for decades be a feature of the American automobile (including even convertibles!).

The “bullet nose” Studebaker Commander: 1950 (left) and 1951 (right).

Like many nicknames, the “single spinner” appellation applied to the 1949-1950 Fords appeared only in retrospect, after the 1951 facelift added a second.  To the public the use of “spinner” probably was obvious because the look did obviously recall the bosses on a twin-engined propeller aircraft but what people decide something should be called doesn’t always accord with what the designer had in mind.  The distinctive look of the 1950 Studebaker Commander came from the ever-vivid imagination of French born US designer Raymond Loewy (1893–1986) who was inspired not by jet engines (soon to emerge as a popular motif in many fields because jets became sexy) but an earlier technology.  Loewy had had in mind the prominent snout of the twin-boom Lockheed P-38 Lightning fighter aircraft (1941-1945) which had first been seen (in prototype form) in 1938 and which went on to inspire the modest tailfins on the 1948 Cadillac but despite that, the 1950s Studebakers came to be called “the bullet-nose”.  At Studebaker, the feeling soon must have been the moment was at least passing because in 1951 the outer-ring of the assembly was painted to blend in more with the bodywork but the reduction of the vanes from four to three was probably nothing more than the usual “change for the sake of change” although the P-38 did always use three-blade propellers.  The “beak” differed little from Loewy’s conceptual sketches but did become part of one of the era’s more celebrated fueds, Studebaker’s styling department employing designer Virgil Exner (1909–1973) who was there by virtue of having in 1944 been fired by Loewy.  Two of the great names of mid-century US design, the clash of egos continued and, triggered by Loewy receiving credit for his work styling the landmark 1946 Studebaker, Exner quit and went to work for Chrysler where, for a decade he influenced automotive design on both sides of the Atlantic.  As a footnote, the way the front bumper-bar was handled on the 1950-1951 Commander was visually a preview of the technique many manufacturers would adopt from 1973 to conform with the US impact regulations, the closest implementation probably to “diving board” design used by BMW. 

US manufacturers for decades glued on the appliqué.  Some were worse than others.

Although by the mid-1950s, the all-steel bodies had in the US replaced all but the handful of coach-built wagons made for those who valued exclusivity more than practicality, there was still a nostalgic longing for the look of timber.  It was too expensive to use the real stuff but what was adapted was DI-NOC, (Diurno Nocturna, from the Spanish, literally “daytime-nighttime” and translated for marketing purposes as “beautiful day & night”), an embossed vinyl or polyolefin material with a pressure-sensitive adhesive backing produced since the 1930s and perfected by Minnesota Mining & Manufacturing (3M) (the corporation not to be confused with the "Three Ms" of the 1950s who were the actresses Mamie Van Doren (b 1931), Marilyn Monroe (1926–1962) & Jayne Mansfield (1933–1967), the "blonde bombshells" of the era).  Described as an “architectural finish”, it was used mostly for interior design purposes in hundreds of patterns and was able to be laid over a variety of substrates such as drywall, metal, and laminate.  Remarkably effective at emulating (at a distance) more expensive materials such as wood, leather, marble, metal or granite, what the manufacturers did was not re-create the appearance of the original woodies but instead unleash the designers on the large side-surfaces of the modern Amerian car, the results mostly variations of a theme and polarizing, the DI-NOC appliqués something one either loved or hated.

1963 Ford (UK) Consul Cortina 1500 (Mark 1 “Woody” estate).

It was the Americans who fell in love with the look and in the second half of the twentieth century a wide range of cars, large and small (most of them station wagons) were available, off the showroom floor, complete with a faux-woodgrain appliqué glued to the flanks and often the tailgate.  3M claimed it looked exactly like the real thing and at night, that really was true although, close-up, daylight exposed reality like the "ugly lights" a night-club turns on at closing time, something especially obvious in a DI-NOCed machine which had spent a couple of summers baking under an Arizona sun.  Still, nobody actually claimed it was real wood and unlike something subtle like a badge, a dozen-odd square feet of DI NOC plastered on the sides was a way of telling the neighbors you bought the most expensive model.  Detroit had established colonies in England, Australia and Germany and there they tried to export the DI-NOC idea; the Prussians weren’t tempted but Ford did offer an embellished Cortina in the UK and the Falcon Squire in Australia.  The ventures proved brief and unsuccessful and Ford never bothered to trouble the Germans or French with the feature.

Extracts from Ford Australia's brochures for the 1964 XM Falcon Future (top) and 1964 XM Falcon Squire (bottom).  The Futura's bling appealed to the market, the Squire's Di-NOC did not.   

The Australian experiment has been blamed on the local operation being headed by an American, the implication being he presumed what had great appeal in the northern 50 states would be just as attractive in the southern 51^st.  The Squire was introduced with the XL range (1962-1964) which was both a cosmetic update (with the “Thunderbird” roofline) and a much needed strengthening of the underpinnings which in the original XK (1960-1962) had proved too fragile for the roads (or lack of them) in the outback.  The success of the XL meant the Falcon survived in Australia, something genuinely in doubt when local conditions exposed the lack of robustness in the XK but the DI-NOCed Squire didn’t greatly contribute to the revival; of the 75,756 XL Falcons produced, just 728 were Squires.  In 1962-1964, had Ferrari managed a run of 728 roadsters it would have been hailed an outstanding success but that number of Falcons was derisory and although the model was carried over when the XM (1964-1965) was released, that was the end and no more fake wood appeared down under between then and when Ford’s local production ceased in 2016.  However, although Australians never warmed to the DI-NOC, they clearly liked bling because the up-market Falcon Futura introduced with the XL sold so well when the XP range (1965-1966) was released it included and even more luxurious Fairmont which was available both as a sedan and station wagon; both sold well.

One-off 1967 Ford Country Squire with Q-Code 428 V8 and four-speed manual transmission.

In the US, Ford for decades churned out the Country Squires by the thousand but there was the odd oddity.  Like most big station wagons, almost all  Country Squires were built for function and although the engines might sometimes be large (in the 1970s they were available with 429 & 460 cubic inch (7.0 & 7.5 litre) V8s), they were configured to carry or tow heavy loads and were thus sold almost always with heavy-duty automatic transmissions.  In 1967 however, there was a one-off Country Squire built with the combination of a 428 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 in Q-Code configuration (the “Q” a marker of the engine's specification which included "Cobra Jet" style cylinder heads with larger valves, a four barrel carburetor (typically a 735 CFM (cubic foot per minute) Holley, a higher compression ration and exhaust manifolds with reduced impedance).  The Q-Code 428 was the most powerful offered that year in full-sized Fords (except for 12 Ford XLs with the 427 V8 derived from a unit built for competition).  Such vehicles are usually unicorns, often discussed and sometimes even created as latter-day “tributes” and are thus rarely "real" but the 1967 Country Squire is a genuine one-off and as a type may be unique not only among Fords but also the entire full-size ecosystem of the era.  The tale is sometimes still repeated that Plymouth built a special order Belvedere station wagon at the request of Bill Harrah (1911–1978) of Harrah's Hotel and Casinos in Nevada (now part of Caesars Entertainment) with the 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) HEMI V8 for the rapid transport of cash across the desert but that is a myth and the coda (that Harrah decided instead to build his own) is just as unverified.  So the 1967 Country Squire is a curious period piece and a collectors’ item; despite its dilapidated appearance, its "one-of-one" status (much-prized in collector circles) meant that in 2020 it sold at auction in the US for almost US$50,000.  When exhibited at the South Carolina’s Hilton Head Island Concours d’Elegance in November 2024, an entry on the car’s placard claimed production of the special order required the personal approval of Lee Iacocca (1924–2019), then vice-president of Ford’s car and truck group.  The one-off wagon received a Palmetto Award in the “Barn Finds” class in which patina is a virtue.

1968 Mercury Park Lane convertible with “Yacht Deck Paneling”.  It was to the 1968 Mercury Ford Australia turned when they needed some distinctive styling for their 1976 ZH Fairlane & Marquis, the previous model having suffered because there was insufficient product differentiation from the lower-price Falcon from which they were so obviously derived.  Eight years old the look might have been but it created product differentiation and the consensus was it was a good choice, 1968 Fords & Mercurys judged better looking than what the corporation in the US offering in 1976.  By then, the Australians didn’t consider adding Yacht Deck Paneling to the option list.

Away from station wagons where the woodie-look remained popular, public taste in the US clearly shifted in the late 1960s.  Impressed by the industry’s solid sales numbers for “woodie” station wagons, Mercury decided those buying two-door hardtops and convertibles deserved the same choice and, for the 1968 season, “Yacht Deck Paneling” appeared in the catalogues as an option on the top-of-the-line Park Lane.  Clearly not wishing to be thought deceptive, Mercury not only didn’t disguise the synthetic origins of the “simulated walnut-tone” appliqué, its advertising copy made a virtue of being faux, pointing out: “This paneling is tougher, longer-lasting than real wood… and every bit as beautiful” before concluding “wood-tone paneling has always been a good idea”.

Chrysler Newports with “Sportsgrain” option: 1968 convertible (left) and 1969 two-door hardtop (right).  This was the era when the big cars came to be called “land yachts” so references to “yacht decks” and such were not inappropriate.  Inefficient in so many ways, in their natural environment (“floating” effortlessly down the freeways, passengers and driver isolated within from the rest of the world), they excelled and there’s since been nothing quite like them.

That sales pitch must have convinced Chrysler “wood-tone paneling has always been a good idea” because it responded to what Mercury were doing by slipping onto the market the mid-season offering of the “Sportsgrain Newport”, available as a two-door hardtop or convertible, both with the simulated timber used on the corporation’s station wagons.  A US$126 option, it was a deliberate attempt to evoke spirit of the high-priced Town and Country convertibles of the late 1940s but, because the T&C moniker had already been appropriated for the wagons, someone in marketing had to come with “sportsgrain” which now must seem mystifying to anyone unaware the first element of the portmanteau word was a nod to the convertibles of the early post-war years.  Other than the large slab of vinyl, the “Sportsgrain” cars were standard Newports (then the cheapest of the Chrysler-branded models).  While demand for appliqué-adorned station wagons remained strong, Chrysler in 1968 had no more success than Mercury in shifting hardtops & convertibles with the stuff glued on, only 965 of the former and 175 of the later being ordered which, nationwide, was not even one per dealer.  Remarkably, the option returned for 1969 with the new “fuselage” body styling, possibly because the corporation, anticipating higher demand, had a warehouse full of 3M’s vinyl but, being simply glued on, maintaining the option would not have been an expensive exercise.  Sales however must have been low, the survivors of the 1969 range rare and Chrysler have never disclosed the final season's production totals.

Advertising for 1983 Chrysler Town & Country (with "plush cloth and vinyl" rather than "fine Corinthian leather", left), 1946 Chrysler Town & Country Convertible Coupe (with real timber, top right) and 1983 Chrysler LeBaron Town & Country Mark Cross Convertible (bottom right).  LeBaron Carrossiers (1920-1953) was one of the storied named in US coach-building and during the 1920s & 1930s crafted bodies on chassis from some of the world's most expensive lines including Marmon, Isotta Fraschini, Chrysler Imperial, Rolls-Royce, Duesenberg, Lincoln and Packard.  Changes in the post-war economy made such extravagances an unviable business and in 1953 the LeBaron brand was acquired by Chrysler which came to use it as a designation for higher-priced models, much as Ford for decades used Ghia.

A generation on, the public's restrained enthusiasm for appliqué adorned convertibles must have faded from Chrysler's corporate memory because between 1983-1986 there was the LeBaron convertible, recalling the post-war Town & Country range which used real timber.  Now with a (minor) cult following because one appeared in the popular film Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987), with some 1100 sold, the K-Platform based LeBaron Convertible coincidentally almost matched the 1968 run although it took four years to achieve the modest feat.  Chrysler's front wheel drive (FWD) K-Platform (the so-called "K Cars", 1981-1995) is treated now as  emblematic of the "Malaise Era" but it's no exaggeration to say it rescued Chrysler from looming bankruptcy and it yielded literally dozens of variants (many of them with only slight differences) including even an elongated "Executive" offered as a five seat sedan on a 124 inch (3150 mm) wheelbase (1983-1984) or a seven seat limousine (complete with partition) with a 131 inch (3327 mm) wheelbase.  All the Executives were underpowered (the early versions with a 2.2 litre (134 cubic inch) four cylinder engine especially so); the "Malaise Era" gained the name for a reason.         

Real and sort of real.  1964 Morris Minor Traveller (left) and 1961 advertisement for the Morris Mini Traveller (centre).

In the UK, one traditional woodie (there often called spelled "woody") did enjoy a long life, the Morris Traveller, introduced in 1953 as an addition to the Minor range (1948-1972 (1975 in overseas markets)) remaining in production until 1971, the body aft of the doors formed with structural ash timber members which supported infill panels in painted aluminum.  However, while the Minor Traveller was real, the subsequent Mini Traveller (1961–1969) was a curious hybrid: Structurally it was exactly the same car as the Mini station wagon, the external members genuine ash but wholly decorative affectations which were attached directly to the steel body, the "infill" panels an illusion.  The Morris version was marketed as the "Traveller" while Austin sold it as the "Countryman" but, in the way the corporation in the era handled "badge engineering", the two were identical but for the names and production of both lasted from 1960 to 1969.  The original Mini enjoyed a forty-year life (1959-2000) but when in 2001 BMW introduced their retro-flavored take on the idea, although they resurrected a few motifs, they didn’t bring back a woodie, fake, faux or real, restricting themselves to calling the station wagon (ohne die Balken) the "Mini Countryman", possibly preferring to leave "Traveller" retired because admiration for the Romani people (known also as Travellers or Gypsies) is not universal.

Surreal: 1960 Jaguar XK150 3.4 FHC (fixed head coupé) shooting brake (Foxbat), creating by grafting the rear coach-work of a Morris Minor Traveller.

The Morris Minor Traveller was the last true woodie in production and is now a thing in the lower reaches of the collector market but there's one less available for fans because one was sacrificed to a project by by industrial chemist and noted Jaguar enthusiast, the late Geoffrey Stevens, construction undertaken between 1975-1977. He wanted the Jaguar XK150 shooting brake the factory never made so blended a XK150 FHC with the rear compartment of a Morris Minor Traveller of similar vintage.  Dubbed the Foxbat (the influence of a Soviet pilot who in 1976 defected to the West, taking his MiG-25 "Foxbat" with him), it has been restored as a charming monument to English eccentricity and even the usually uncompromising originality police among the Jaguar community seem fond of it.  In a nice touch (and typical of an engineer’s attention to detail), a “Foxbat” badge was hand-cut, matching the original Jaguar script.  Other than the coach-work, the XK150 is otherwise “matching-numbers” (chassis number S825106DN; engine number V7435-8).