Svelte

Svelte (pronounced svelt or sfelt)

(1) Slender, especially gracefully slender in figure; lithe.

(2) Suave, urbane elegant, sophisticated.

1817: Originally (and briefly) spelled svelt, from the seventeen century French svelte (slim, slender), from the Italian svelto (slim, slender (originally "pulled out, lengthened)), past participle of svellere (to pluck out or root out), from the Vulgar Latin exvellere (exvellitus), the construct being from ex + vellere (to pluck, stretch) + -tus (the past participle suffix).  The ex- prefix was from the Middle English, from words borrowed from the Middle French, from the Latin ex (out of, from), from the primitive Indo-European eǵ- & eǵs- (out).  It was cognate with the Ancient Greek ἐξ (ex) (out of, 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).  The “x” in “ex-“, sometimes is elided before certain constants, reduced to e- (eg ejaculate).  The Latin vellere (which English picked up as a learned borrowing) was the present active infinitive of vellō (I pluck out; I depilate; I pull or tear down), from the Proto-Italic welnō, from the primitive Indo-European wel-no-, a suffixed form of uelh- (to strike), source also of the Hittite ualh- (to hit, strike) and the Greek aliskomai (to be caught).  The Latin suffix –tus was from the Proto-Italic -tos, from the primitive Indo-European -tós (the suffix creating verbal adjectives) and may be compared to the Proto-Slavic –tъ and Proto-Germanic –daz & -taz.  It was used to form the past participle of verbs and adjectives having the sense "provided with".  Latin scholars caution the correct use of the –tus suffix is technically demanding with a myriad of rules to be followed and, in use, even the pronunciation used in Ecclesiastical Latin could vary.  Svelte is an adjective and svelteness is a noun; the comparative is svelter and the superlative sveltest although in practice both are rare and constructions (however unhappy) such as very svelte, most svelte are more common.  Thankfully, sveltesque & sveltish seem not to exist and if they do, they shouldn’t.

Svelte: Lindsay Lohan, Olympus Fashion Week, Bryant Park, Manhattan, February 2006.

Because svelte is intended as a compliment to be extended in admiration, the true synonyms include refined, delicate, graceful, lithe, slender, lean, lissom, slinky, slim, elegant, willowy, waif & sylph-like.  Although can equally (and technically correctly) apply to the same image, words like thin, scrawny and skinny can be used with a negative connotation.  Interestingly, in some Nordic languages, the word has the sense of variations of “thin, hunger, starvation” and is used of a two player card game in which the goal is to "starve" the opponent of all their cards.  Svelte is a word usually applied to people, most often women; while men can be called svelte, most would probably prefer another label.  However, it’s a descriptor which references the slender and the elegant so can be used anthropomorphically and there have been cars which have gone from frumpy to svelte:

The Pontiac Grand Prix: The first generation (1962–1964) (left), the second generation (1965–1968) (centre) and the third generation (1969–1972) (right).

The first Pontiac Grand Prix was among the outstanding designs which emerged from the General Motors (GM) styling studios in the 1960s, truly the corporation's golden era.  The first was built on a full-sized platform and was thus undeniably large but such was the competence of the styling team that the bulk was well-disguised and unless the are other objects in the frame to provide a point of reference, at first glance the sheer size of the thing is not obvious.  Its rather bulbous replacement fares not so well but Pontiac were aware the universe was shifting, their own smaller GTO and the emerging ecosystem of pony cars attracting the buyers wanting high performance while the full-size machines were beginning their path towards increasingly cosseted luxury.  Other full-sized machines however looked better while doing what the Grand Prix did and sales of the second generation weren’t encouraging.  Pontiac changed tack for 1969 and in the third generation produced another classic, a smaller car which relied not on gimmicks or embellishments but simple lines, the long hood working because it was the sole extravagance and one perfectly balanced by what would otherwise have seemed an excessively large C pillar.  It was a high-water mark for Pontiac.

Continentals: the Mark II (1956-1957) (left) and the Lincolns, the Mark III-V (1958-1960) (centre) and the fourth generation (1961-1969) (right).

Wanting to create a landmark in style which was as much a reaction to the excesses of the era as it was a homage to mid-century modernism, Ford actually created a separate division to produce the Continental Mark II and in its very sparseness the look succeeded but the realities of production-line economics doomed the project which lasted only two years.  Seemingly having decided that good taste didn’t sell, the Continental nameplate returned to the Lincoln line in 1958 and the Mark III-V models were big, some 227 inches (5.8 m) in length and weighing in at 2 ½ tons (2540 kg) or more.  Indisputably flamboyant with an intricate grille atop chrome dagmars, canted headlights partially encapsulated in semi-closed ovoid apertures and embellished with chrome spears & sweeping cove embossments, the only restraint seemed to be the surprisingly demure fins but with those Ford never succumbed to the lure of the macropterous which made so distinctive the cars from Chrysler and GM during the era.  Even at the time criticized as too big, too heavy and too bloated, the styling nevertheless represented one of the (several) logical conclusions of the trends which had for a decade been evolving but it too was a failure, lasting only three seasons.  After this there was nowhere to go but somewhere else.  In 1961 Lincoln went there, creating a classic shape which would remain in production, substantially unchanged until 1969.  Remembered now for being the car in which President Kennedy was shot, for the suicide doors, and the soon to be unique four-door convertible coachwork, it was a masterpiece of modern industrial design which managed to combine severe lines without any harshness in the shape and was influential, other manufacturers essentially borrowing the motif although none did it better than the original.  Managing the almost impossible, to be big yet svelte, Lincoln in the six decades since produced nothing as good and much that was worse.

The Mark IX was the final iteration of a decade-long line (the Mark VII, VIII & IX, 1951-1961) with a competition history which belied the stately appearance (left) while the Jaguar Mark X (1961-1970 and named 420G after 1967) never realized its potential because the factory refused to fit the Daimler V8 and its own V12 wasn’t ready until after production ended (centre) and the XJ (1968-1986) which, especially when fitted with the V12, may have been the best car in the world (right).

Svelte can be a relative term.  Although the Jaguar Mark X was soon criticized as being too big and bloated, upon release in 1961 it was thought sleek and modern because the car it replaced was stylistically something of an upright relic with its lines so obviously owing much to the pre-war era.  That warmth of feeling soon passed and it was too big (especially the width) for the home market while in the US where it could have been a great success if fitted with a V8 and air-conditioning as good as a Cadillac, it was neglected because the superior quality of the brakes and suspension meant little under US conditions.  The styling however did however provide a model for the slimmed-down XJ, released to acclaim in 1968 and greater adulation still when the V12 arrived in 1972.  The svelte lines aged well, especially on the short-lived two-door, and looked elegant still in 1986 when replaced.  However, the shape meant the hunter became captured by the game, Jaguar reprising the lines until 2009 although none matched the purity of the original.  The 420G was the last of the "big" Jags.

Dodge Chargers: 1966 (left) and 1968 (right).

The 1966 Charger featured one of the best interiors of the era, including a full-length centre console and rear-seats with a thoughtful design which folded flat, providing a usefully large storage area.  The highlight however was probably the dashboard featuring Chrysler’s intriguing electroluminescent instruments which, rather than being lit with bulbs, deployed a phenomenon in which a material emits light in response to an electric field; the ethereal glow much admired.  Inside was however the best place to be because it meant one didn’t have to look at the thing; it was chunky and slab-sided and while it could be said another fastback of the time (the truly ghastly Rambler (later AMC) Marlin) was worse, that really was damming with faint praise.  Still, on the NASCAR ovals the shape proved surprisingly slippery and when paired with Chrysler’s Hemi V8, it proved a trophy winner.  The welcome restyle of 1968 was transformative and seldom has there been such an overnight improvement.  Ironically though, the svelte lines proved not especially aerodynamic and on the racetrack, the sleek-looking Charger suffered in a way its frumpy predecessor had not, the stylishly recessed grill and the tunnel-effect used around the rear window compromising the aerodynamics and therefore the speed.  It took Dodge two attempts to solve the problem: The Charger 500 flattened both the grill and the rear windows but the instability remained so engineers (conveniently available from Chrysler’s recently shuttered missile division) fashioned a radical nosecone and a high rear wing which served well for the two seasons the modifications were permitted to be homologated for use on the Dodge Daytona in competition.  Ford suffered a similar fate in 1970: the new Torino looked better but the 1969 shape proved more efficient so the racers stuck with last year’s model until a solution was found.

Barracuda

Barracuda (pronounced bar-uh-koo-duh)

(1) Any of several elongated, predaceous, tropical and subtropical marine fishes of the genus Sphyraena, certain species of which are used for food.

(2) Slang term for a treacherous, greedy person (obsolete); slang term for one who uses harsh or predatory means to compete.

(3) A car produced by the Plymouth division of Chrysler Corporation in three generations between 1964-1974.

1670-1680: From American Spanish, thought derived from customary use in the Caribbean, borrowed from the Latin American Spanish barracuda, perhaps from a Cariban word, most likely the Valencian-Catalan barracó (snaggletooth), first recorded as barracoutha.

The 1971 Plymouth Hemi 'Cuda at auction

While the 1964 Ford Mustang is credited with creating the pony-car market, it was actually the Plymouth Barracuda which came first, released seventeen days earlier.  Ford’s idea was to drape a sexy new body over an existing, low-cost, platform and drive-train and Chrysler chose the same route, using the sub-compact Valiant as Ford were using their Falcon.

1965 Ford Mustang

Unfortunately, despite the project having been in the works for years, a sudden awareness Ford were well advanced meant Chrysler’s lower-budget development was rushed.  Despite the Valiant’s platform and drive-train being in some aspects better than the Falcon, Plymouth’s Barracuda was a bit of a flop, outsold by its competitor initially by around ten to one, numbers which got worse.  While the Mustang got what was called “the body from central casting”, from the windscreen forward, the Barracuda retained the sheet-metal from the mundane Valiant, onto which was grafted a rear end which was adventurous but stylistically disconnected from the front.

1964 Plymouth Barracuda

It was an awkward discombobulation although, with the back-seat able to be folded down to transform the rear passenger compartment into a large luggage space, it was clever design.

1971 Jensen FF

The novelty of that rear-end was a giant rear window which, at 14.4 square feet (1.34m³), was at the time the largest ever installed in a production car.  In 1966, even grander glazing was seen on the Jensen Interceptor, styled by Italy’s Carrozzeria Touring, but there it was ascetically successful, the lines of the big trans-Atlantic hybrid more suited to such an expanse of glass.

1967 Plymouth Barracuda

The extraordinary success of the Mustang nevertheless encouraged Chrysler to persist and the Barracuda, though still on the Valiant platform, was re-styled for 1967, this time with the vaguely Italianesque influences seen also in 1966 in the revision to Chevrolet’s doomed, rear-engined Corvair.  As a design, it worked well and offered both notchback and convertible coachwork as well as a fastback but, because of the economic necessity of retaining some aspects of the Valiant’s structure, wasn’t able to realise the short-deck, long-hood look with which the Mustang had established the pony car design motif used still today.

1969 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

General Motors’ (GM) answer to the Mustang wasn’t as constrained by the fiscal frugality which had imposed so many compromises on the Barracuda, the Chevrolet Camaro and the substantially similar Pontiac Firebird both introduced in 1966 with a curvaceous interpretation of the short-deck, long-hood idea which maintained a relationship with the GM’s then voguish “coke-bottle” designs.  In a twist on the pony car process, the Camaro and Firebird were built on an entirely new platform which would later be used for Chevrolet’s new competitor for the Valiant and Falcon, the Nova.  Just as the pedestrian platforms had restricted the freedom to design the Barracuda, so the Camaro’s underpinnings imposed compromises in space utilization on the Nova, a few inches of the passenger compartment sacrificed to fashion.  For 1967, Ford released an updated Mustang, visually similar to the original but notably wider, matching the Camaro and Firebird in easily accommodating big-block engines, not something Chrysler easily could do with the Barracuda.

1969 Plymouth 'Cuda 440

However, this was the 1960s and though Chrysler couldn’t easily install a big-block, they could with difficulty and so they did, most with a 383 cubic inch (6.3 litre) V8 and, in 1969, in a package now called ‘Cuda, a few with the 440 (7.2 litre).  At first glance it looked a bargain, the big engine not all that expensive but having ticked the box, the buyer then found added a number of "mandatory options" so the total package did add a hefty premium to the basic cost.  The bulk of the 440 was such that the plumbing needed for disc brakes wouldn’t fit so the monster had to be stopped with the antiquated drum-type and nor was there space for power steering, quite a sacrifice in a car with so much weight sitting atop the front wheels.  The prototype built with a manual gearbox frequently snapped so many rear suspension components the engineers were forced to insist on an automatic transmission, the fluid cushion softening the impact between torque and tarmac.  Still, in a straight line, the things were quick enough to entice almost 350 buyers.  To this day the 440 remains the second-largest engine used in a pony car, only the Pontiac 455 (7.5 litre) offering more displacement.

1968 Plymouth Barracuda Convertible

The better choice, introduced late in 1967, was an enlarged version of Chrysler’s LA, small-block V8, now bored-out to 340 cubic inches (5.6 litre); it wouldn’t be the biggest of the LA series but it was the best.  A high-revving, free-breathing thing from the days when only the most rudimentary emission controls were required, the toxic little (a relative term) 340 gave the ‘Cuda performance in a straight line barely inferior to the 440, coupled with markedly improved braking and cornering prowess.  One of the outstanding engines of the era and debatably the best small-block, it lasted, gradually detuned, until 1973 by which time interest in performance cars had declined in parallel with the engineers ability to produce them while also complying with the increasingly onerous anti-pollution rules.

1968 Hemi 'Cuda, ex factory

Of course, for some even a 440 ‘Cuda wouldn't be enough and anticipating this, in 1968, Plymouth took the metaphorical shoehorn and installed the 426 cubic inch (6.9 litre) Street Hemi V8, a (slightly) civilised version of their racing engine.  Fifty were built (though one normally reliable source claims it was seventy) and with fibreglass panels and all manner of acid-dipping tricks to reduce weight, Plymouth didn’t even try to pretend the things were intended for anywhere except the drag strip.  The power-to-weight ratio of the 1968 Hemi ‘Cudas remains the highest of the era.

1971 Plymouth 'Cuda

The third and final iteration of the Barracuda was introduced as a 1970 model and lasted until 1974.  Abandoning both the delicate lines of the second generation and the fastback body, the lines were influenced more by the Camaro than the Mustang and it was wide enough for any engine in the inventory.  This time the range comprised (1) the Barracuda which could be configured with either straight-six or one of the milder V8s, (2) the Gran 'Cuda which offered slightly more powerful V8s and some additional luxury appointments including the novelty of an overhead console (though obviously not available in the convertible) and (3) the 'Cuda which was oriented towards high-performance and available with the 340, 383, 440 and 426 units, the wide (E-body) platform able to handle any engine/transmission combination.  Perhaps the best looking of all the pony cars, sales encouragingly spiked for 1970, even the Hemi ‘Cuda attracting over 650 buyers, despite the big engine increasing the price by about a third and it would have been more popular still, had not the insurance premiums for such machines risen do high.  With this level of success, the future of the car seemed assured although the reaction of the press was not uncritical, one review of the Dodge Hemi Challenger (the ‘Cuda’s substantially similar stable-mate), finding it an example of “…lavish execution with little thought to practical application”.

1971 Plymouth 'Cuda Convertible

Circumstances however conspired to doom the ‘Cuda, the Hemi, the Challenger and almost the whole muscle car ecosystem.  Some of the pony cars would survive but for quite some time only as caricatures of their wild predecessors.  Rapidly piling up were safety and emission control regulations which were consuming an increasing proportion of manufacturers’ budgets but just as lethal was the crackdown by the insurance industry on what were admittedly dangerously overpowered cars which, by international standards, were extraordinarily cheap and often within the price range of the 17-25 year old males most prone to high-speed accidents on highways.  During 1970, the insurance industry looked at the data and adjusted the premiums.  By late 1970, were it possible to buy insurance for a Hemi ‘Cuda and its ilk, it was prohibitively expensive and sales flopped from around 650 in 1970 to barely more than a hundred the next year, of which but a dozen-odd were convertibles.

It was nearly over.  Although the Barracuda survived, the convertible and the big-block engines didn’t re-appear after 1971 and the once vibrant 340 was soon replaced by a more placid 360.  Sales continued to fall, soon below the point where the expensive to produce E-body was no longer viable, production of both Barracuda and Challenger ending in 1974.  Even without the factors which led to the extinction however, the first oil-crisis, which began in October 1973, would likely have finished them off, the Mustang having (temporarily) vacated that market segment and the Camaro and Firebird survived only because they were cheaper to build so GM could profitably maintain production at lower levels.  Later in the decade, GM would be glad about that for the Camaro and Firebird enjoyed long, profitable Indian summers.  That career wasn't shared by the Javelin, American Motors’ belated pony car which, although actually more successful than the Barracuda, outlived it only by months.

1971 Hemi 'Cuda Convertible at 2021 auction

It was as an extinct species the third generations ‘Cudas achieved their greatest success... as used cars.  In 2014, one of the twelve 1971 Hemi ‘Cuda convertibles sold at auction for US$3.5 million and in 2021, another attracted a bit of US$4.8 million without reaching the reserve.

Bustle

Bustle (pronounced buhs-uhl)

(1) To move or act with a great show of energy (often followed by about).

(2) To abound or teem with something; display an abundance of something (often used as “bustling with” or bustled with”).

(3) Thriving or energetic or noisy activity; stir; ferment.

(4) In dressmaking, the fullness around or below the waist of a dress, as added by a peplum, bows, ruffles, etc.

(5) In nineteenth century dressmaking, (1) a pad, cushion, worn under the back of a woman's skirt to expand, support, and display the full cut and drape of a dress; (2) a metal or whalebone framework worn by women, typically only protruding from the rear as opposed to the earlier more circular hoops.

(6) In the design of electronic office equipment, a cover to protect and hide the back panel of a computer or other office machine.

(7) In automotive design, latterly as “bustle-back”. a mid-twentieth century coachwork motif which integrated into the rear of the bodywork the previously separately-mounted trunks used to store luggage;  In the UK, the style was used in a tiny number of limousines until 1992 and in the US, there was an unfortunate revival in the 1970s.

(8) In the design of armored vehicles, an additional, external storage space added to the rear of a vehicle (on a tank, at the rear of the turret).

(9) In sailboat design, as bustle stern, a reference to a stern with a blister at the waterline designed to prevent the stern from "squatting" when getting underway.

1570s: The verb was from the Middle English bustlen, bustelen & bostlen (to hurry aimlessly along; bustling, noisy or excited activity) perhaps a frequentative of Middle English bresten (to rush, break), from Old English bersten (rushing about) of uncertain origin but perhaps (1) from the Old Norse busla & bustla (to splash about), (2) from the dialectal word busk from Old Norse būask (to prepare; to make oneself ready), (3), from the obsolete word buskle (energetically to prepare something) or (4), from the verb busk via the sixteenth century frequentative form buskle.  John Milton (1608–1674) in the 1630s used bustle to suggest "activity, stir, fuss, commotion.  In modern English use, the word is often heard in the phrase “hustle & bustle”.  Related forms include the noun bustler, the verbs bustled & bustling, the adjectival form of bustling not noted until 1819.

Profile of the bustle dress: 1885 American example rendered in silk with rhinestones in a metal frame.

The origin of the use of bustle as a noun referring to "padding in the upper back part of a skirt" is of uncertain origin but may be connected with the German Buschel (bunch, pad) or (more speculatively) may be a special adaptation of the verb, a tribute to the "rustling” the fabric of the dresses made while in motion.  Apparently first used in 1788, the bustle was a specifically-shaped frame, stuffed with cotton, feathers etc, worn by women to kill two birds with one stone: affording a greater rotundity to the hips and emphasizing the narrowness of the of the waist-line.  It had the added practical attraction of causing the folds of the skirt to hang more gracefully and prevent the fabric from interfering with the feet when walking.

Fashions change: the bustle in the late nineteenth century.

Bustle dresses obviously pre-dated modern synthetic fabrics which can be engineered to assume and retain a defined shape so were created by using an internal frame, an exoskeleton assembled usually from metal, cane or bone using essentially the same technique as coachbuilders in the twentieth century, the space frame providing support and describing the arc of the desired curves.  The earliest of the breed were less exaggerated that what was to follow, used more to allow the fabric to fan-out and create a train and it was later, in the mid-nineteenth century, that the loops and hoops grew in number and size to allow the multi-gathered layers now most associated with the style.  It was about this time that trains began to retreat and the shape of the bustle adopted the more pronounced humped shape on the back of the skirt immediately below the waist, the voluminous material tending now to fall straight to the floor in a cut designers at the time called the “waterfall effect”.  A wonderfully elegant style in which a lady could waft around a ballroom, taking a seat could be difficult, trips to the loo presumably a matter of gymnastics.

As a piece of fashion, the bustle rose and fell in popularity, its most dramatic flourish in the late 1880s when the most extreme of the bustles were built with proportions even more extraordinary than the originals of the late 1700s.  Absurdity having been achieved, the bigger bustles were banished to the of the wedding dress where it remains to this day, used both to better display a clinched waist and sometimes support a train.  The engineering however endured into the twentieth century, structural support still required for what was were now only slightly exaggerated interpretations of the female form but by 1908 it was noted that but for wedding dresses, the bustle was extinct, supplanted by the long corset.  

Portrait of Maria Carolina of Austria (1752-1814), circa 1767, by Martin van Meytens (1695–1770).

In the late 1700s, the bustle was actually quite modest compared with the earlier pannier which seems to have existed only as court dress and then rarely, reserved for the most formal occasions.  Offering the advantage of rendering the skirt as a large, almost flat, square or rectangular shape in the manner of a painting, it permitted a large surface on which elaborate designs or embroidery could be displayed, transforming the wearer into something of a walking (or at least standing) billboard. 

The style began somewhere in Europe in the early 1700s, historians of fashion in several countries laying claim although whether that's as a proud boast or admission of guilt isn’t clear.  The term seems to have been applied retrospectively as a point of differentiation from the bustle, “pannier dresses” not described as such until 1869.  In their most imposing iterations, the panniers could extend the skirt by almost a metre (39 inches) either side so there may be a comeback for what would presumably be a practical garment in the #metoo era.  The word pannier dates from circa 1300, from the Old French panier & paniere (basket), from the Latin pānārium (breadbasket), the construct being pānis (bread) + ārium (place for).  As originally used in French, panniers were the wicker baskets slung either side of a beast of burden, the name still used to describe the side-mounted containers available as accessories for bicycles and motor-bikes.

Un dimanche après-midi à l'Île de la Grande Jatte (A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte) (1884-1886) by Georges Seurat (1859-1891).

Seurat’s most famous painting is an indication of the state of the bustle art in the 1880s but is best remembered as an exemplar of the technique of divisionism (sometimes called chromoluminarism), most associated with Neo-Impressionist painting and defined by the colors being separated into individual dots or daubs, the optical result created in the brain of the viewer.  The eye is an outgrowth of the brain and, having “learned” the nature of color, what the eye sees, the brain intuitively blends and mixes, seeing the painting not as an agglomeration of dots but as an image.  The final processing is not by the painter but the viewer, an early example of a deconstruction of the the reader constructing the text, a direction of thought which would come to intrigue many theorists, some of whom unfortunately pursued the concept a little too long and much too often.

Playboy magazine, May 1976.

In what was presumably intended as a post-modern touch, Playboy magazine superimposed an image of a slightly bustled Nancy Cameron (January 1974 Playmate of the Month) on the painting for their May 1976 cover, the bunny logo hidden among the dots.  It’s not known how many of Playboy's readers were sufficiently taken with divisionism to devote much time to rabbit hunting.

1928 Mercedes-Benz Nürburg 460 K Pullman Limousine (W08).

The origin of the bustle-back style on motor cars was organic, a evolution from the luggage trunks which, borrowing from the practice used with horse-drawn carriages of many types, were attached to the rear, a practical arrangement which afforded easy access and didn’t impinge on passenger space.  Sometimes the trunks were provided by the manufacturer or coachbuilder but often, especially on lower-prices vehicles, were from third-party suppliers and not always specifically designed for the purpose, being made variously from steel, timber or leather and even woven with wicker.

1936 Studebaker Dictator 4-door sedan.

As all-metal bodies gradually replaced the mixture of steel, wood and fabric which had typified construction in the early days of the industry, the function of the once separate trunk was retained but integrated into the coachwork.  Ascetically, some were more successful than others but the trend did coincide with the move towards more sloping rear coachwork, replacing the upright designs which had been a direct inheritance from the horse-drawn stage coaches and this would have an important influence on what came to be known as the bustle-back motif.

1939 Lincoln Zephyr V12 Coupe (left) and 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540K (W29) Special Roadster (originally delivered to King Mohammed Zahir Shah of Afghanistan, right).

The sweep of the fastback line did present an obvious stylistic challenge.  To augment one with the bustled trunk would defeat the purpose but the functional advantages of the added storage had come to be appreciated so the solution was complete integration, the once discernibly separate trunk now wholly encapsulated.  The price to be paid for that was the elongation of the rear body but, in the era of streamlining, the market took well to this latest incarnation of modernism and the style turned into a profitable niche for Detroit, the two-door “business coupe” long a favorite of travelling salesmen who were happy with the sacrifice of the back seat to provide an even more commodious trunk (boot) with which to secure samples of wares.

1953 Ford Zodiac (Mark 1) & 1959 Mercedes-Benz 220 SE (W180).

By the early 1950s, a “three-box” form had evolved and it would become for several generations the standard for the mainstream sedan.  Typified by the Ford Zephyr & Zodiac (1951-1956) and the Mercedes-Benz “pontoons” (W105 / W120 / W121 /W128 / W180) (1951-1962), the style was described as “one loaf of bread atop another”.  Although many couldn’t resist embellishing the simplicity with fins and other unnecessary stuff, the basic outline endured for decades although it did tend to the "longer, lower and wider".

1954 Bentley Mark IV (left), 1963 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud III (centre) & 1968 Daimler DS420 (right).

Not all however saw the need to advance beyond the bustle which, by an accident of economics, had come to define the traditional English limousine.  While mass-market vehicles evolved quickly with model cycles as little as 3-4 years, the low-volume and substantially hand-made limousines typically remained in production for sometimes a decade or more, reflecting the time it took to amortize the capital investment.  In the post-war years, Austin, Armstrong Siddeley, Bentley, Daimler, Rolls-Royce & Vanden Plas all persisted although production levels, never high, dwindled increasingly as the bustle-back came to be seen as an antiquated relic and by 1965, even Rolls-Royce had all but abandoned the bustle, only the low-volume Phantom V still maintaining the link to the pre-war style.

The choices in 1968: Vanden Plas Princess 4-litre Limousine (left), NSU Ro80 (centre) & Daimler Majestic Major DR450 (right).

Emblematic of the troubles which beset British industry in the era, the most obviously antique of the English bustle-backs, the Vanden Plas Princess 4-litre Limousine, was still on sale in 1968 by which time that glimpse of the next century, the NSU Ro80, had been in showrooms for over a year.  The Princess, still with a split windscreen, was a (mildly) updated version of the Austin Sheerline, introduced in 1947 when it was a genuinely new design although even then, few would have been surprised had they been told it came from before the war.  The eventual longevity wasn't planned but rather a product of the uncertainty in the future of corporate structure the industry would assume, plans for a successor put on hold, the same fate which befell the only slightly more modern-looking but remarkably rapid Daimler Majestic Major which also enjoyed a stay of execution until 1968.       

However, their new rarity made the bustle-back eventually an attraction, the very exclusivity creating a receptive and surprisingly wide market segment which included undertakers, wedding planners, Lord Mayors and anyone else to whom the sense of lost elegance and whiff of wealth appealed.  Jaguar understood and responded in 1968 with the Daimler DS420 which didn’t encourage any imitators but there was room for one and it enjoyed a long, lucrative life, remaining in production until 1992.  Over five thousand were built.

1966 Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100, left) & 1962 Rolls-Royce Phantom V by Mulliner Park Ward (right).

The traditionalists didn’t however always insist on tradition.  Even before Mercedes-Benz had shown their 600 at the 1963 Frankfurt Motor Show, coachbuilders Mulliner Park Ward had built some of the 832 Rolls-Royce Phantom Vs without the pronounced bustle-back which adorned most.  Nothing of course matched the austerity of line of the 600, the most severe interpretation the “three-box” form ever applied to a limousine and, as an alternative to the bustle-back, MPW offered "de-bustled" variations on the theme until the last of the 374 Phantom VIs was built in 1990. 

1965 Oldsmobile 98 two-door hardtop.

Fins began to shrink from the “three box” US cars in the early 1960s and were gone by mid-decade.  Having to go in some direction, the tails of the full-sized US cars noticeably lengthened, matching the growth at the front.  Aesthetically, the long hoods (bonnets) did have their attraction but were hardly an engineering necessity.  Although the biggest US V8s were wide and heavy, they weren’t, by either historic or even contemporary European standards, especially long yet in some of the full-sized cars of the era, a V16 would have fitted and there were those at Cadillac, recalling the genuine exclusivity the sixteen cylinder engines lent the marquee during the 1930s, who hankered for one and they actually built some V12 prototypes before corporate reality bit.  They contented themselves instead with a gargantuan 500 cubic inch (8.2 litre) V8 although another reality would soon bite that too.

The 1961 Cadillac: The long (left) and slightly less long (right) of it. 

Whether in response to or in anticipation of some owners preferring their Cadillac in a more conveniently sized package, between 1961-1963, a “short-deck” option was made available on certain body styles.  Offered first on the six-window Sedan deVille, an encouraging 3,756 were built so the option was in 1962 offered on the four-window Sixty Two Town Sedan but sales actually dropped to 2600, the decline in interest confirmed the next year when only 1575 of the four-window Park Avenue Sedan deVille were sold.  Using the same 129.5 inch (3289 mm) wheelbase as the regular models but eight inches (200 mm) shorter in overall length (215 vs 223 inches (5461 vs 5664 mm)), space utilization was obviously a little better but the market had spoken.  With fewer than eight-thousand of the short-deck models sold across three seasons while the standard editions shipped in the tens of thousands, the flirtation with (slightly) more efficient packaging was abandoned for 1964; in the course of the following decade, Cadillacs would grow another seven inches (178 mm) and gain over 400 lb (181 kg).

1971 Holden HG Premier (left) & 1968 Holden HK Brougham (right).

In Australia, Holden, General Motors's (GM) local outpost, took the opposite approach, the Brougham (1968-1971) created by extending the tail of the less exalted Premier by 8 inches (200 mm), the strange elongation a hurried and far from successful response to the Ford Fairlane (1967-2007).  The 1967 Fairlane had been crafted by stretching the wheelbase of the Falcon sedan from 111 inches (2819 mm) to 116 (2946 mm) and tarting-up the interior.  Ford had since 1965 been locally assembling the full-sized Galaxies for the executive market but tariffs and the maintenance of the Australian currency peg at US$1.12 meant profitability was marginal, the locally concocted Fairlane, much more lucrative, produced as it was with high local content and a miniscule development cost.  The Fairlane name was chosen because of the success the company had had in selling first the full-sized Fairlanes (nicknamed by locals as the “tank Fairlane”) between 1959-1962 and later the compact version (1962-1965).

1977 Ford LTD Silver Monarch (P6).

The massive success of the 1967 car and its successors prompted Ford to cease local assembly of the Galaxie and revert to importing fully built-up cars for the small segment of the market which wanted the bigger vehicles, including the government executive fleets.  Available with both small and big-block V8s, the Galaxies, now badged as Galaxie-LTDs, would remain available until 1973 when Ford Australia created their own LTD (1973-2007), giving the Falcon’s wheelbase a final stretch to 121 inches (3073 mm) and adding the novelty of a 24 hour analogue clock, lashings of real leather and fake timber along with that status symbol of the 1970s: the padded vinyl roof.

Lindsay Lohan photo-shoot by Tom Munro (b 1964) for Bustle, March 2024.

The “malaise era” bustle-backs (1980-1987) by Cadillac, Imperial and Lincoln.

The US cars of the decade between 1973-1983 (some say it lasted a bit longer) were called “malaise era” cars, named after a thoughtful but perhaps unfortunate speech President Jimmy Carter (b 1924; US president 1977-1981) delivered in July 1979.  The president didn't actually utter the word "malaise" but people listen to what politicians mean as much as what they say and the word came to be associated with his unhappy, single-term administration.  Not yet able substantively much to improve the dynamics of the cars, Detroit thought of a distraction: the bustle-back.  It proved a short-lived fad although one better remembered that some of what had gone before and much of what would follow.

The 1980 Cadillac Seville was first, the advertising copy even trying to justify the appearance by claiming the design offered “more usable trunk space”, something which could neither be proved nor disproved which was good, given it offered 14.47 (.409 m³) cubic feet of space whereas last year’s model had 14.9 (.421 m³).  Still, what one got was “more usable”.  Cadillac were explicit about their plagiarism, the Seville’s lines based not on just any bustle-back but one with the most severe lines, the Hooper-bodied Rolls-Royces of the post-war years.  The critics were divided: some not liking it and some hating it, a spread of opinion seemingly shared by buyers, sales never matching those of its more conventional predecessor although there were other factors in the lukewarm response such as the switch to front wheel drive and some reliability issues with the power-train.  Production of the bustle-back Seville ceased in 1985; sales of its successor were higher.

Chrysler always claimed the design of the 1981 Imperial was locked-in long before their designers had laid eyes on the new Seville but it wasn’t until 1981 it was in the showrooms.  Based on the competent J-body Cordoba platform, it was offered only as a two-door coupé with a fuel-injected 318 cubic inch (5.2 litre) V8 and an automatic transmission.  After 1955, Chrysler had run Imperial as a separate division in an attempt to gain the cachet of Cadillac and Lincoln but, despite early success, the experiment failed and the brand was retired in 1975.  The bustle-back Imperial (1981-1983) ostensibly revived the division and the car was well-equipped, including bits and pieces from Cartier although its best-remembered association with celebrity was the “Frank Sinatra Edition”.  Unexpectedly, a brief foray onto the fastest of the NASCAR ovals proved the bustle-back’s aerodynamic efficiency; it achieved an impressive top-speed despite not using the highest-powered engine.  It wasn’t enough to save the brand which was shut down for the last time in 1983 although Chrysler did continue to use “Imperial” on the odd tarted-up model and surprised everyone in 2006 by presenting an Imperial concept car.  Criticized at the time because it was so obviously influenced by the Rolls-Royce Phantom (the retrospective VII) and a pastiche of many clichés, if one didn't mind that sort of thing, it seemed a quite accomplished execution.  

Ford’s retro-take arrived last in 1982 but the Lincoln lingered longest, not replaced until 1987.  The bustle-back Lincoln actually used the most restrained implementation of the idea but, unable to resist the temptation to add lipstick, the designers applied to the trunk the faux spare tyre bump which had been on so many Continentals since the 1955 Mark II first sought to pay tribute to the 1940 original although this was the first time a Lincoln without a Continental badge had been humped. In common with the experience of the other manufacturers, the car attracted fewer buyers than its predecessor or successor and, while Detroit have pursued some other retro-projects with mixed results, none have attempted another reprise of the bustle-back.

Pre and post butt-lift, the 2001 and 2009 BMW 7 Series.

Nor has anyone else.  Although the 2001 BMW 7 Series (E65) is sometimes labelled a bustle-back (or, in more twenty-first century style, a bustle-butt), it really never was although, having allowed a decent interval to elapse so as not to (further) upset the designer, at the first facelift, it was toned down a little.