Exquisite

Exquisite (pronounced ek-skwi-zit or ik-skwiz-it)

(1) Of special beauty or charm, or rare and appealing excellence and often associated with objects or great delicacy; of rare excellence of production or execution, as works of art or workmanship; beautiful, delicate, discriminating, perfect.

(2) Extraordinarily fine or admirable; consummate.

(3) Intense; acute, or keen, as pleasure or pain; keenly or delicately sensitive or responsive; exceeding; extreme; in a bad or a good sense (eg as exquisite pleasure or exquisite pain).

(4) Recherché; far-fetched; abstruse (a now rare early meaning which to some extent survives in surrealist’s exercise “exquisite corpse”).

(5) Of particular refinement or elegance, as taste, manners, etc or persons.

(6) A man excessively concerned about clothes, grooming etc; a dandy or coxcomb.

(7) Ingeniously devised or thought out (obsolete).

(8) Carefully adjusted; precise; accurate; exact (now less common except as an adverb.

(9) Of delicate perception or close and accurate discrimination; not easy to satisfy; exact; fastidious (related to the sense of “exquisite judgment, taste, or discernment”.

1400–1450: From the Late Middle English exquisite (carefully selected), from the Latin exquīsītus (excellent; meticulous, chosen with care (and literally “carefully sought out”)), perfect passive participle of exquīrō (to seek out), originally the past participle of exquīrere (to ask about, examine) the construct being ex- + -quīrere, a combining form of quaerere (to seek). The construct of exquīrō was ex- +‎ quaerō (seek).  The ex- prefix was applied to words in Middle English borrowed from the Middle French and was derived from the Latin ex- (out of, from) and was from the primitive Indo-European eǵ- & eǵs-.  It was cognate with the Ancient Greek ἐξ (ex-, out of, from) from the Transalpine Gaulish ex- (out), the Old Irish ess- (out), the Old Church Slavonic изъ (izŭ) (out), the Russian из (iz) (from, out of).  Exquisite is a noun & adjective, exquisiteness is a noun and exquisitely an adverb; the noun plural is exquisites.

The etymology of the Latin quaerō (seek) is mysterious.  It may be from the Proto-Italic kwaizeō, from the primitive Indo-European kweh (to acquire) so cognates may include the Ancient Greek πέπαμαι (pépamai) (to get, acquire), the Old Prussian quoi (I/you want) & quāits (desire), the Lithuanian kviẽsti (to invite) and possibly the Albanian kam (I have).  Some have suggested the source being the primitive Indo-European kwoys & kweys (to see) but there has been little support for this.  The authoritative Lexikon der indogermanischen Verben (Lexicon of the Indo-European Verbs (LIV)), the standard etymological dictionary of the Proto-Indo-European languages, suggests it’s a derivation of hzeys (to seek, ask), via the form koaiseo.  "Exquisite corpse" is a calque of the French cadavre exquis (literally “exquisite cadaver”).  Dating from 1925, it was coined by French surrealists to describe a method of loosely structured constructivism on the model of the parlour game consequences; fragments of text (or images) are created by different people according to pre-set rules, then joined together to create a complete text.  The name comes from the first instance in 1925: Le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau (The exquisite corpse will drink new wine).  Exquisite corpse is noted as a precursor to both post-modernism and deconstructionist techniques.

Although not infrequently it appears in the same sentence as the word “unique”, exquisite can be more nuanced, the comparative “more exquisite, the superlative most exquisite” and there has certainly been a change in the pattern of use.  In English, it originally was applied to any thing (good or bad, art or torture, diseases or good health), brought to a highly wrought condition, tending among the more puritanical to disapprobation.  The common modern meaning (of consummate and delightful excellence) dates from the late 1570s while the noun (a dandy, a foppish man) seems first to have been used in 1819.  One interesting variant which didn’t survive was exquisitous (not natural, but procured by art), appearing in dictionaries in the early eighteenth centuries but not since.  The pronunciation of exquisite has undergone a rapid change from ek-skwi-zit to ik-skwiz-it, the stress shifting to the second syllable.  The newer pronunciation attracted the inevitable criticism but is now the most common form on both sides of the Atlantic and use seems not differentiated by class. 

An exquisite and a wimp: Baldur Benedikt von Schirach

Exquisite is used almost exclusively as an adjective, applied typically to objects or performances but it’s also a noun, albeit one always rare.  As a noun it was used to describe men who inhabited that grey area of being well dressed, well coiffured, well mannered and somewhat effeminate; it was a way of hinting at something without descending to the explicit.  PG Wodehouse (1881-1975) applied it thus in Sam the Sudden (1925) and historians Ann (1938-2021) & John Tusa (b 1936) in The Nuremberg Trial (1983) found no better word to apply to former Hitler Youth Leader Baldur von Schirach, noting his all-white bedroom and propensity to pen poor poetry.  The companion word to describe a similar chap without of necessity the same hint of effeminacy is “aesthete”.  In The Anatomy of the Nuremberg Trials: A Personal Memoir (1992), Brigadier General Telford Taylor (1908–1998; lead US counsel at the Nuremberg Trial) wrote of von Schirath that: “at thirty-nine, was the youngest and, except perhaps for Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) and Hans Fritzsche (1900–1953; Nazi propagandist), the weakest of the defendants.  If wimps had then been spoken of, Schirach would have been so styled.”  

Nazis at the Berghof: Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945), Martin Bormann (1900–1945), Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945), and Baldur von Schirach (1907-1974; head of the Hitlerjugend (Hitler Youth) 1931-1940 & Gauleiter (district party leader) and Reichsstatthalter (Governor) of Vienna (1940-1945)), Berchtesgaden, Bavaria, Germany, 1936.  Of much, all were guilty as sin but von Schirach would survive to die in his bed at 67.  

Convicted by the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg (IMT, 1945-1946) for crimes against humanity, von Schirach received a twenty year sentence, escaping conviction for his role as Nazi Party youth leader and head of the Hitlerjugend (Hitler Youth), (though he was a good deal more guilty than Socrates in corrupting the minds (and perhaps more) of youth), the sentence imposed for his part in deporting Viennese Jews to the death camps while Gauleiter (district party leader) and Reichsstatthalter (Governor) of Vienna.  Had subsequently discovered evidence against him been available at the trial, doubtlessly he’d have been hanged.

Exquisite: A style guide

Lindsay Lohan in a Gucci Porcelain Garden Print Silk Gown with an all-over Dutch toile in blue and white, high ruffled collar and bib, flared sleeves, pussy bow and a blue and red patent leather belt around a high waist, Savoy Hotel, London, June 2017.  The gown was said to have a recommended retail price (RRP) of Stg£4,040 (US$7300).  The occasion was the launch of the charitable organization One Family, dedicated to combating child trafficking.

Within the one critique, the word exquisite can appear, used as a neutral descriptor (an expression of extent), a paean to beauty and even an ironic dismissal.  A gown for example can be “exquisitely detailed” but that doesn’t of necessity imply elegance although that would be the case of something said to be an “exquisite design”.  That said, most were drawn to the gown in some way, the references to Jane Austin many (although historians of fashion might note Gucci’s creation as something evocative more of recent films made of Jane Austin novels that anything representative of what was worn in her era) and the fabric’s patterning & restraint in the use of color produced a dreamily romantic look.

Coriaceous

Coriaceous (pronounced kawr-ee-ey-shuhs, kohr-ee-ey-shuhs or kor-ee-ey-shuhs)

(1) Of or resembling leather.

(2) In botany, a surface (usually a leaf) distinguished having the visual characteristics of leather.

1665-1675: from Late Latin coriāceus (resembling leather in texture, toughness etc), the construct being corium (skin, hide, leather (and also used casually to refer to belts, whips and other leather items, and upper layers (ie analogous with a skin or hide) in general such as crusts, coatings, peels or shells)), from the Proto-Italic korjom, from the primitive Indo-European sker & ker- + -aceous.  The suffix –aceous was from the New Latin, from the Classical Latin -aceus (of a certain kind) and related to the Latin adjectival suffixes –ac & -ax.  It was used (1) to create words meaning “of, relating to, resembling or containing the thing suffixed” and (2) in scientific classification, to indicate membership of a taxonomic family or other group.  The comparative is more coriaceous and the superlative most coriaceous.  Coriaceous & subcoriaceous are adjectives and coriaceousness is a noun.

Botanists classify coriaceous leaves by degree.  The common greenbrier (Smilax rotundifolia) (left) is listed as subcoriaceous (ie somewhat or almost coriaceous) while the Shining Fetterbush (Lyonia lucida) is distinguished by glossy coriaceous leaves with a prominent vein along margins (right).

In late 1967, as a prelude to the next year’s introduction of the XJ6, Jaguar rationalized its saloon car line-up, pruning the long-running Mark II range from three to two, dropping the 3.8 litre model and re-designating the smaller-engined pair (the 2.4 becoming the 240, the 3.4 the 340), thus bringing the nomenclature into line with the recently released 420.  The standardization exercise extended to the big Mark X which became the 420G but curiously the S-Type’s name wasn’t changed and it became the only Jaguar in which the 3.8 litre engine remained available as a regular production option, the E-Type (XKE) having earlier adopted the 4.2.  So the 240, 340, S-Type (3.4 & 3.8) and 420 (all based on the 1959 Mark 2 (itself a update of the 1955 2.4)) all remained in production, along with the Daimler 250 (the re-named 2.5 fitted with Daimler’s 2.5 litre V8) and to add a further quirk, a dozen 340s were built to special order with the 3.8 liter engine.  Production of all ceased in 1968 with the coming of the XJ6 except the big 420G (which lasted until 1970 although sales had for some time slowed to a trickle), the 240 (available until 1969 because Jaguar wasn’t until then able to offer the 2.8 liter option in the XJ6) and the Daimler 250 (which also ran until 1969 until the Daimler Sovereign (an XJ6 with a Daimler badge) entered the showrooms).

1967 Jaguar Mark 2 3.8 with leather trim (left) and a "de-contented" 1968 Jaguar 240 with the "slimline" bumpers, Ambla trim and optional  rimbellishers (right).

Given the new revised naming convention wasn’t carried over the XJ6 (rendering the 420G an alpha-numeric orphan for the last year of its existence), there’s since been speculation about whether the Jaguar management had a change of mind about how the XJ6 was to be labeled or the changes were just an attempt to stimulate interest in the rather dated Mark 2 and its derivatives.  That certainly worked though perhaps not quite as Jaguar intended because Mark 2 sales spiked in 1968 and the oldest models (240 & 340) handsomely outsold both the newer 420 and the by then moribund S-Type.  Probably the change in name had little to do with this and more significant was the price cutting which made the 240 & 340 suddenly seem like bargains, the 240 especially.  Dated they might have looked in the year the NSU Ro80 debuted, but they still had their charm and the new price drew in buyers whereas the 420 suffered because it was known the XJ6 would soon be available and expectations were high.

The renewed interest in the 240 was at least partly because Jaguar had finally devoted some attention to the breathing of its smallest engine, straight-port heads and revised SU carburetors increasing the power to the point where a genuine 100 mph (160 km/h) could be attained, something not possible since the lighter 2.4 (retrospectively known as the Mark 1) ended production in 1959.  The 100 mph thing was something the factory was quite sensitive about because in the 1950s (when it was still quite an achievement) it had been a selling point and for most of the Mark 2’s life, Jaguar were reluctant to make 2.4s available for testing.  The 240’s new performance solved that problem and it was the biggest seller of the revised range (4446 240s vs 2800 340s) although those who read the small print might have been disappointed to note the fuel consumption; both models weighed about the same but the small engine had to work much harder, the 340 barely more thirsty.

1962 Jaguar Mark 2 3.8 with leather trim (left) and 1968 Jaguar 240 with Ambla trim.  It was only when the optional leather trim was specified that the fold-down "picnic tables" were fitted in the front seat-backs. 

The real thing: Lindsay Lohan in leather (albeit with faux fur sleeves).

Still, with the 240 selling in 1968 for only £20 more than the what a 2.4 had cost in 1955, it was soon tagged “the best Jaguar bargain of all time” but that had been achieved with some cost-cutting, some of the trademark interior wood trim deleted, the fog and spot lamps replaced by a pair of chromed grilles, the hubcap design simplified and “slimline” bumpers fitted in place of the substantial units in place since 1959, this not only saving weight but a remarkable amount of the cost of production.  The revised cars were not as generously equipped as before (although some of the “de-contenting” had been introduced late in Mark 2 production) but a long option list remained and on it were some items once fitted as standard, the list including a choice of five radio installations with or without rear parcel shelf-mounted speaker, a laminated windscreen, chromium-plated wheel rimbellishers for steel wheels, Ace Turbo wheel trims for steel wheels, a tow bar, a locking petrol filler cap, front seat belts, the choice of radial, town and country, or whitewall tyres, automatic transmission, overdrive (for the manual transmission), wire wheels, fast ratio steering box, a fire extinguisher, Powr-Lok differential, rear window demister, heavy-duty anti-roll bar, close-ratio gearbox, tinted glass, a driver’s wing mirror, childproof rear door locks, an integrated ignition & starter switch (steering column), reclining front seats, power-assisted steering & leather upholstery.

It was the moving of the leather trim to the option list which is said to have made the greatest contribution to the price cuts.  The replacement fabric was Ambla, one of a class of coriaceous materials which have come variously to be referred to as faux leather, pleather, vegan leather, Naugahyde, synthetic leather, artificial leather, fake leather & ersatz leather.  First manufactured in the US, most production now is done in China as well as upholstery, the fabric is use for just about anything which has ever been made in leather including clothing, footwear, gloves, hats, belts, watch bands, cases, handbags, sports items, firearm holsters, luggage and a myriad besides.  It does appear that as early as the fifteenth century, the Chinese were experimenting with ways synthetic leather could be manufactured but it doesn’t appear anything was ever produced at scale and it was only when petroleum-based plastics became available in the US in the late nineteenth century that it became viable to mass produce a viable alternative to leather.  Historically, most of the products were petroleum-based but vegetable-based alternatives are now attracting much interest as attention has focused on the environmental impact of the traditional petro-chemical based approach.

1967 Mercedes-Benz 250 SE with MB-Tex trim (left) and 1971 Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL 6.3 with leather trim.

One of the best known coriaceous materials in the 1960s and 1970s was MB-Tex, a vinyl used by Mercedes-Benz which by far was the synthetic which most closely resembled genuine leather.  That was something made easier by the Germans using a process which resulted in slightly thicker tanned hide than those from Italy, Spain or England and this meant that replicating the appearance was more easily attained.  What most distinguished MB-Tex however was the durability and longevity.  Unlike leather which demanded some care and attention to avoid wear and cracking, it wasn’t uncommon for 20 or 30 year old MB-Tex to look essentially as it did when new and many who sat in them for years may have assumed it really was leather.  It certainly took an expert eye to tell the difference although in a showroom, moving from one to another, although the visual perception might be much the same, the olfactory senses would quickly know which was which because nothing compares with the fragrance of a leather-trimmed interior.  For some, that seduction was enough to persuade although those who understood the attraction of the close to indestructible MB-Tex, there were aerosol cans of “leather smell”, each application said to last several weeks.

For the incomparable aroma of leather.

The factory continued to develop MB-Tex, another of its attractions being that unlike leather, it could be produced in just about any color although, now colors (except black, white and shades of grey) have more or less disappeared from interior schemes, that functionality is not the advantage it once was.  As a fabric though, it reached the point where Mercedes-Benz dropped the other choices and eventually offered only leather or a variety of flavors of MB-Tex.  That disappointed some who remembered the velour and corduroy fittings especially popular in the colder parts of Europe but the factory insisted MB-Tex was superior in every way.  Also lamented were the exquisite (though rarely ordered) mohair interiors available for the 600 Grosser (W100, 1963-1981).  Apparently, the factory would trim a 600 in MB-Tex upon request but nobody ever was that post modern and most buyers preferred the leather, however coriaceous might have been the alternative.

Fragile

Fragile (pronounced fraj-uhl (U) or fraj-ahyl (non-U))

(1) Easily broken, shattered, or damaged; delicate; brittle; frail.

(2) Vulnerably delicate, as in appearance.

(3) Lacking in substance or force; flimsy.

1505–1515: From the Middle English fragile (liable to sin, morally weak), from the Middle French fragile, from the fourteenth century Old French fragele, from the Latin fragilis (easily broken) (doublet of frêle), the construct being frag- (variant stem of the verb frangere (break), from the primitive Indo-European root bhreg- (to break) + -ilis.  The -ilis (neuter -ile) suffix was from the Proto-Italic -elis, from the primitive Indo-European -elis, from -lós; it was used to form an adjective noun of relation, frequently passive, to the verb or root.  It was cognate with fraction & fracture and doublet of frail.  The original meaning from circa 1510 (liable to sin, morally weak) by circa 1600 extended to "liable to break" as a back-formation from fragility which was actually an adoption of the sense in Latin.  The transferred sense "of frail constitution" (of persons) dates from 1858.  The companion adjective frail emerged in the mid fourteenth century in the sense of "morally weak", from the twelfth century Old French fraile & frele (weak, frail, sickly, infirm) (enduring in Modern French as frêle), from the Latin fragilis.  The US slang noun meaning "a woman" is documented from 1908 and although there’s no evidence, etymologists have noted Shakespeare's "Frailty, thy name is woman" (Hamlet, Act I, Scene 2).  The comparative fragiler and the superlative fragilest are both correct but the more elegant “more fragile” and “most fragile” tend to be preferred.  Fragile is used usually as an adjective but can be applied as a noun (typically by folk like furniture movers) or in the same way as “exquisite”.  Fragilely is an adverb and fragility is a noun; the noun plural is fragiles.

Words which are either synonyms or close in meaning include delicate, feeble, frail, weak, brittle, crisp, crumbly, decrepit, fine, flimsy, fracturable, frangible, friable, infirm, insubstantial, shivery, slight & unsound.  The antonym most often used to suggest the opposite quality to fragile is “robust” (evincing strength and health; strong).  Robust dates from circa 1545 and was a learned borrowing from circa 1400 Medieval Latin rōbustus (oaken, hard, strong), the construct being rōbus- (stem of rōbur (oak, strength) + -tus (the adjectival suffix).

Lindsay Lohan looking fragile: Lindsay (2019) by Sam McKinniss (b 1985) (left), from a reference photograph taken 22 July 2012, leaving the Chateau Marmont in West Hollywood, LA (right).

However, fragile and robust, although often used as antonyms (and in general use usefully so because the meanings are so well conveyed and understood) are really not opposites but simply degrees of the same thing.  In the narrow technical sense an expression of robustness or fragility is a measure of the same thing; a degree of strength.  The traditions of language obscure this but it becomes clear if measures of fragility or robustness are reduced to mathematics and expressed as comparative values in numbers.  It's true that on such a continuum a point could be set at which point something is regarded as no longer robust and becomes defined as fragile (indeed this is the essence of stress-testing) but this doesn't mean one is the antonym of the other.

The opposite of fragile is actually antifragile (the anti prefix was from the Ancient Greek ἀντι- (anti-) (against, hostile to, contrasting with the norm, opposite of, reverse (also "like, reminiscent of"))).  The concept is well known in physiology and part of the object in some forms of strength training is to exploit the propensity of muscles to tear at stress points, relying on the body to repair these tears in a way that doesn’t restore them to their original form but makes them stronger so that if subjected again to the same stress, a tear won’t happen.  It’s thus an act of antifragility, the process illustrated also by the calluses which form on the hands after the skin blisters in response to work.  Fragile and robust merely express points on a spectrum and are used according to emphasize the extent of strength; antifragile is the true opposite.

The idea of antifragile was introduced by Lebanese-born, US-based mathematician and trader Nassim Nicholas Taleb (b 1960) in the book Antifragile: Things That Gain From Disorder (2012), the fourth of five works which explore his ideas relation to uncertainty, randomness & probability, the best-known and most influential was The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable (2007).  His work was thoughtful, intriguing and practical and was well received although the more accessible writing he adopted for the later volumes attracted criticism from some who felt an academic style more suited to the complex nature of his material; probably few who read the texts agreed with that.  Apart from the ideas and the use to which they can be put, his deconstruction of many suppositions is also an exploration of the rigidities of thought we allow our use of language to create.

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.

Tobacco

Tobacco (pronounced tuh-bak-oh)

(1) Any of several plants belonging to the genus Nicotiana (of the nightshade family), especially one of those species, as N. tabacum, whose leaves are prepared for smoking or chewing or as snuff.

(2) Any of numerous solanaceous plants of the genus Nicotiana, having mildly narcotic properties, tapering hairy leaves, and tubular or funnel-shaped fragrant flowers. The species N. tabacum is cultivated as the chief source of commercial tobacco

(3) Any of various similar plants of other genera.

(4) The leaves of certain of these plants, dried and prepared, as used in cigarettes, cigars & pipes, as snuff and for chewing.

(5) Any product or products made from such leaves.

(6) To indulge in tobacco; to smoke.

(7) To treat with tobacco.

(8) A range of colors in the brown spectrum, tending to the darker.

1525–1535 (attested since 1588): From the Spanish tabaco of uncertain origin.  It was either from the Arabic طُبَّاق‎ (ṭubbāq) (Dittrichia viscosa) or from one or more Caribbean languages (including Galibi Carib, Arawak or Taíno) from a word meaning “roll of tobacco leaves” or “pipe for smoking tobacco” (there are contemporary reports citing both and scholars tend now to prefer the former), the best known of which was tabago (tube for inhaling smoke or powdered intoxicating plants).  Taino is thought by linguistic anthropologists to be the most likely source.  That the name of the inhaling implement was applied to the leaves was explained by the Spanish assuming it was the name of the plant.  The West Indian (Caribbean) island of Tobago was said to have been named in 1498 by Christopher Columbus (1451–1506) after the tambaku (pipe), a reference to the native custom of smoking dried tobacco leaves.  Derived forms include smokeless tobacco, tobaccoless & anti-tobacco and there are a wealth of slang terms for tobacco and its products (including the tax-evading illicit varieties) including occabot (the backward spelling), baccy, backy, chop chop, durrie, smoke, fag, gasper, ciggy, coffin nail, cancer stick, darb, dart, death stick, bine & stogie.  The spelling tabacco is obsolete.  Tobacco is a noun & verb, tobaccoing & tobaccoed are verbs; the noun plural is tobaccos or tobaccoes.

One attempt at social engineering began in earnest in the 1980s: Pressure was applied on film & television studios, advertisers and publishers to stop depicting smoking as "attractive, sexy and cool".  Because cigarette smoke is known to be carcinogenic and sustained use typically reduced the human lifespan by about a decade, it was an admirable part of the public health programme but the difficult thing was that images of smoking undeniably could be sexy.  Lindsay Lohan demonstrates.   

A supine Lindsay Lohan, smoking in The Canyons (2013).

The unusual construct of the noun tobacconist (one who deals in tobacco) was tobacco + -n- + -ist.  The abnormal inserted consonant appeared to reflect the way the word actually was pronounced.  The sense of the commercial trader in the product dates from the 1650s although the earlier meaning, dating from the 1590s was “someone addicted to tobacco and by 1873 the word nicotinism (morbid effects of excessive use of tobacco) had been coined so the awareness of the adverse effects of tobacco are not new.  The first “tobacconist” (a shop where tobacco and related products are purchased) seems to have operated in Florida in the early 1800s.  The -ist suffix was from the Middle English -ist & -iste, from the Old French -iste and the Latin -ista, from the Ancient Greek -ιστής (-istḗs), from -ίζω (-ízō) (the -ize & -ise verbal suffix) and -τής (-tḗs) (the agent-noun suffix).  It was added to nouns to denote various senses of association such as (1) a person who studies or practices a particular discipline, (2), one who uses a device of some kind, (3) one who engages in a particular type of activity, (4) one who suffers from a specific condition or syndrome, (5) one who subscribes to a particular theological doctrine or religious denomination, (6) one who has a certain ideology or set of beliefs, (7) one who owns or manages something and (8), a person who holds very particular views (often applied to those thought most offensive).

Art deco: Snuffbox (left) and cigarette case (right).

Snuff (powdered tobacco to be inhaled) was first available in the1680s and was from the Dutch or Flemish snuf, a shortening of snuftabak (snuff tobacco), from snuffen (to sniff, snuff).  The practice of taking (sniffing) snuff quickly became fashionable in England and generated an industry in the making of “snuff boxes”; many small and exquisite, they’ve long been collectable.  The slang phrase “up to snuff” (knowing, sharp, wide-awake, not likely to be deceived) dates from 1811, the order of the words thought a reference to the upper-class association with the substance while the meaning is presumed to allude to the "elevating" properties of snuff.  The noun nicotine (which still appears occasionally in scientific papers as nicotin) describes the poisonous ,volatile alkaloid base found in tobacco leaves and was first documented in English in 1819, from the French nicotine, from the earlier nicotiane, from the Modern Latin Nicotiana, the formal botanical name for the tobacco plant, named for Jean Nicot (circa 1530-1600), the French ambassador to Portugal who in 1561 sent tobacco seeds and powdered leaves from his embassy in Lisbon to Paris.

Until the mid-twentieth century, there was much variation in packaging but in the post-war years things were (more or less) standardized in terms of size and shape.  It was a relatively small area with with to work and the convention which developed was to use the simple corporate symbol and product name, thus Marlboro's famous red-on-white chevron.  As the product range proliferated (women were a target market thought to have great potential), Philip Morris adopted the technique of semiotics to differentiate while retaining the same identifiable shape, the basic difference being in the color: red for the standard cigarette, blue for mild, green for menthol, gold for longer (ie 4 inch or 100 mm sticks) and black for higher-priced special offerings.  That didn't last and while some manufacturers stuck to the red / blue / green model, Marlboro's colors increasingly became random.       

James VI and I (1566–1625) King of Scotland as James VI (1567-1625) & King of England and Ireland as James I (1603-1625) was appalled by tobacco an in 1604 wrote the treatise A Counterblaste to Tobacco in which he left none in any doubt about how he felt and it’s a document which sounds very contemporary in its condemnation even if some of what was then medical orthodoxy is dated.  The king blamed the scourge of tobacco on Native Americans (although it was European adventurers which brought it from the new world) and is especially scathing about what is now called passive smoking, responding by imposing heavy taxes but such were the adverse consequences for the American colonies that in 1624 a royal charter was instead granted and the whole crop became a royal monopoly.  Written originally in Early Modern English (here transliterated) it still reads well:

Have you not reason to be ashamed, and to forsake this filthy novelty, so basely grounded, so foolishly received and so grossly mistaken as something good to use?  In your abuse you are sinning against God, harming both your health and your wallet, making yourselves look absurd by this custom, scorned and contemned by the civilized people of any nation.  It is a habit loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black stinking fumes are like the horrible Stygian smoke of the bottomless pit of Hell.

The king’s mention of Stigian is a reference to the goddess Styx (Στύξ) (stýks (literally “Shuddering”)) who in Greek mythology took the form of a river of Elia, Arcadia which surrounded Hades nine times and flowed from a rock into silver-pillared caves.  What the king probably had in mind was the tale that Stygian waters imposed senselessness for a year and a draft of the waters was decreed by Zeus for gods who had perjured themselves.  More positively though it was said of Zeus he also insisted the oaths of the gods be sworn by the water of the Styx.

Mid-century cigarette advertising.  Even in the 1950s the public's suspicion that tobacco was a dangerous product was rising and the industry's advertising switched from the traditional "lifestyle" model to one which relied on endorsements by celebrities and scientists and much quoting of research and statistics, much of which would later be wholly debunked.  The tactics and techniques similar to those later adopted by the fossil fuel lobby in their long campaign to discredit the science of human-activity induced climate change. 

Although there were always the fastidious types like James I who found it abhorrent, it wasn’t until late in the twentieth century that in the West governments began to crack down on the industry to the point where in many jurisdictions the stated aim is to eliminate it completely, the most recent innovation being progressively to raise the minimum age at which tobacco products can be purchased which, in theory, means that within decades, nobody will be able to buy them.  Having effected that policy, the heath advocates much have thought there was light at the end of the tunnel, only for vaping to become a thing.  Governments were however always interested in tobacco as a form of revenue and taxing an addictive, lawful product provided for centuries a constant and often gradually increasing source of income and cynics like to note the attitudes seemed only to shift when advances in surgical techniques and drug treatments meant those suffering the consequences of a lifetime of tobacco use began to be kept alive for decades, often at public expense.  Previously, the afflicted had had the decency quickly to drop dead, usually at an age when their usefulness as economic units had either vanished or significantly diminished to the point where, as pensioners, they were a cost to society.  The BBC’s comedy Yes, Prime Minister explored the math & morals in a discussion between the prime-minister and the permanent head of the cabinet office.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Notwithstanding the fact that your proposal could conceivably encompass certain concomitant benefits of a marginal and peripheral relevance, there is a countervailing consideration of infinitely superior magnitude involving your personal complicity and corroborative malfeasance, with a consequence that the taint and stigma of your former associations and diversions could irredeemably and irretrievably invalidate your position and culminate in public revelations and recriminations of a profoundly embarrassing and ultimately indefensible character.

Prime-minister: Perhaps I might have a précis of that?  It says here, smoking related diseases cost the National Health Service £165 million a year.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Yes but we've been in to that, it has been shown that if those extra 100,000 people had lived to a ripe old age, it would have cost us even more in pensions and social security than it did in medical treatment.  So, financially speaking it's unquestionably better that they continue to die at their present rate.

Prime-minister: We're talking of 100,000 deaths a year.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Yes, but cigarette taxes pay for a third of the cost of the National Health Service.  We're saving many more lives than we otherwise could, because of those smokers who voluntary lay down their lives for their friends. Smokers are national benefactors.

Prime-minister: So long as they live.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: A lot of people, eminent people, influential people have argued that such legislation would be a blow against freedom of choice.

Prime-minister: Rubbish. I'm not banning smoking itself. Does every tax rise represent a blow against freedom?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Well, depends how big the tax rise is.

Prime-minister: Oh, that's fascinating. Does 20p represent a blow against freedom?  25p? 30p? 31? Is something a blow against freedom simply because it can seriously damage your wealth?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: I foresee all sorts of unforeseen problems.

Prime-minister: Such as?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: If I could foresee them, they wouldn't be unforeseen.

The Kennedy connection

The 1941 film Tobacco Road was based on the 1932 novel of the same name by Erskine Caldwell (1903-1987).  It involved a family living in poverty in the rural backwoods of the US and their antics did not suggest the possession even of average intelligence.  The term “tobacco road” came to be used as a slur against such folk and their lifestyle and while it’s usually an amusing disparagement exchanged between the rich and well-connected, even among them context can matter as Thomas Maier (b 1956) illustrated in one episode recounted in When Lions Roar: The Churchills and the Kennedys (2014) involving John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) and Pamela Harriman (1920–1997), later one of Western society’s last great courtesans but then just divorced from what had been a brief and understandably unhappy marriage to the even then dissolute Randolph Churchill (1911-1968), son of Winston (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955).  Crooked old Joseph Kennedy (1888–1969) fashioned his sons to become politically powerful establishment figures but didn’t forget his great-grandfather had in 1848 left the poverty of rural Ireland during the potato famine to begin to build wealth and influence in Boston.  He’s made sure his sons knew the family history and when in Ireland in 1945, JFK’s curiosity had prompted a trip to the old Kennedy homestead:

At the Kennedy farm in County Wexford, accompanied by Pamela, Jack discovered not much had changed since his great-grandfather left. “I’m John Kennedy from Massachusetts,” he said after his knock on the door was answered. “I believe we are related.” His distant cousin Mary Kennedy Ryan seemed dubious at first but eventually invited the two strangers in for tea.

The Kennedys who remained in Ireland had spent much of the past century trying to regain the land rights to their tenant farms from the British and supporting Ireland’s independence movement led by such politicians as de Valera. Mary Ryan herself had been a member of the old IRA’s women’s auxiliary during the 1920s conflict against the British, carrying guns and money, either in carts or under her dress, to a secret hiding spot near their farm. “Jack kept pressing on about his ancestors going to America and so on, trying to make the link,” recalled Pamela. As a treat, Jack took the Irish Kennedy cousins for a short ride in Kick’s shining new station wagon, accompanied by the former Mrs. Randolph Churchill. “They never could figure out who I was,” recalled Pamela. “‘Wife?’ they’d ask. I’d say no. And they’d say, ‘Ah, soon to be, no doubt!’”

After nearly two hours “surrounded by chickens and pigs,” Jack recalled, he “left in a flow of nostalgia and sentiment.” The trip reaffirmed the Irish stories he’d heard from his parents and grandparents. Neither Pamela nor Kick, however, seemed impressed. As their car pulled away from the Kennedy farm, Pamela turned to Jack with a remark meant as witty. “That was just like Tobacco Road!” she tittered, referring to the popular novel about rural life in Georgia. Jack wasn’t amused. “The English lady,” he later recounted, ” …had not understood at all the magic of the afternoon.” To Dave Powers and Ken O’Donnell, his Irish-Catholic political aides from Boston, he was much blunter: “I felt like kicking her out of the car.” At Lismore, Lady Hartington was even haughtier. After listening to her brother’s wondrous account of the Kennedy homestead, Kick mustered only a bemused question. “Well, did they have a bathroom?”