Plastic

Plastic (pronounced plas-tik)

(1) Any of a group of synthetic (and usually hydrocarbon-based) polymer materials which may be shaped when soft and subsequently hardened.

(2) In slang, a credit card, or credit cards collectively (an allusion to the material typically used in their manufacture); money, payment, or credit represented by the use of a credit card or cards.

(3) Something (or a number of things), made from or resembling plastic (sometimes merely descriptive, sometimes as a slur suggesting inferiority in quality).

(4) Capable of being molded or of receiving form; having the power of molding or shaping formless or yielding material.

(5) In psychology, the quality of being easily influenced; impressionable.

(6) In biology of or relating to any formative process; able to change, develop, or grow; capable of adapting to varying conditions; characterized by environmental adaptability.

(7) Figuratively and in slang, something superficially attractive yet unoriginal or artificial; insincerity or fakeness in an individual or group.

(8) A widely used combining form (plastic surgery, plastic bullet, plastic explosive, chloroplastic, protoplastic etc).

(9) A sculptor or molder; any solid but malleable substance (both obsolete).

In physiology, producing tissue (obsolete).

1625–1635: From the Latin plasticus (that which may be molded or relating to that which has been molded), from the Ancient Greek πλαστικός (plastikós) (fit for molding, capable of being molded into various forms; pertaining to molding), from πλάσσω (plássō) (to mold, to form).  In Hellenic use, in relation to the arts, there was plastos (molded, formed) the verbal adjective from plassein (to mold) and from the Greek plastikós was derived both plaster and plasma.  Words vaguely or exactly synonymous (depending on context) include elastic, molded, synthetic, bending, giving, yielding, cast, chemical, ersatz, phony, pseudo, substitute, ductile, fictile, formable, moldable, pliable, pliant, resilient, shapeable, flexible & amenable.  Plastic is a noun, verb & adjective, plastically & plasticly are adverbs and plasticity is a noun; the noun plural is plastics and the seventeenth century spelling plastick is long obsolete.

1968 Chevrolet Corvette L88 (left) & 1962 Trabant 601 Universal (station wagon) (right).

Materials with plastic properties were attractive for car producers for different reasons.  It made low-volume production runs viable because the tooling costs were a fraction of the cost of those using steel or aluminum and in some cases the light weight and ease of modification was an attraction.  In the GDR (German Democratic Republic, the old East Germany), the long-running Trabant's bodywork was made with Duroplast, a composite thermosetting plastic (and a descendant of Bakelite).  A resin plastic reinforced with fibers (the GDR used waste from both cotton & wool processing), it was structurally similar to fibreglass and it's a persistent urban myth that Trabants were made from reinforced cardboard.

The notion of being "capable of change or of receiving a new direction" emerged in 1791 and this idea was picked up in 1839 when the term plastic surgery was first used to describe a procedure undertaken to "remedy a deficiency of structure" is recorded by 1839 (in plastic surgery).  The most familiar use referring to the hydrocarbon-based polymers dates from 1909 when the expression "made of plastic" gained currency which remained literal until 1963 when the US counterculture adopted it as slang meaning "false, superficial", applying it both the political and consumer culture.  The noun plastic (solid substance that can be molded) however appears first to have been used in 1905 and was applied originally to dental molds.  Our plastic age can be said to have begun in 1909 when a US patent was issued for Polyoxybenzylmethylenglycolanhydride (marketed as Bakelite), a resin created by the reaction between phenol & formaldehyde.  Chemists had for years been experimenting with various compounds, much of the research funded by the petroleum industry which was seeking some profitable use for its by-products but Bakelite was the first plastic material which had characteristics which made it suitable for manufacture at scale and adaptability to a wide range of uses.  Thus the first commercially available plastic made from synthetic components which retained its formed shape if heated, it was developed by Belgian chemist Leo Baekeland (1863-1944) while working in the US.

The “plastics” at lunch with plastic packaging on plastic trays, Mean Girls (2004).

Plastic explosive (explosive material with a putty-like consistency) became familiar to the military only in the Second World War and more generally in the 1950s but the first use of the term dates from 1894.  Earlier uses include describing the creative or formative processes in art generally as plastic, an echo of the use which sometime prevailed in Hellenic culture but this faded after a few decades during the seventeenth century although the noun plasticity (capability of being molded or formed; property of giving form or shape to matter) endured after first being noted in 1768.  A nineteenth century adoption was in the biological sciences in the sense of “organisms capable of adapting to varying conditions; characterized by environmental adaptability and in the same era, in engineering it came to mean “of or pertaining to the inelastic, non-brittle, deformation of a material”.

The success of Bakelite triggered a rush of development which produced the early versions of the numerous substances that can be shaped and molded when subjected to heat or pressure.  Plastics gain their plasticity because they consist of long-chain molecules known as polymers which flex but don’t break their bonds when subjected to all but extreme stresses.  They’re almost always artificial resins (but can be made from some natural substances such as shellac) and the best known are Polyvinyl chloride (PVC) and polystyrene.  Useful as it is, plastic (with a life measured in some cases in centuries) has emerged as a significant environmental threat, both as visible waste (and thus a threat in many way to wildlife) and as micro-plastic, microscopic-sized fragments which exist in the environment including the human food chain.

Bella Hadid, Coperni show, Paris Fashion Week, October 2022.

Although many in the industry prefer to talk about natural fibres like silk or linen, it’s plastics like nylon or polyester which make possible both the shape and behavior of many modern garments and their mass-production.  One possibility offered by plastics was illustrated at the 2022 Paris Fashion Week in October when as the concluding set-piece of the Coperni show, Bella Hadid (b 1996) appeared on the catwalk wearing only G-string knickers.  There she paused while for about a quarter hour, two men sprayed her body with what appeared to be white paint.  Once done, a woman emerged to cut a thigh-high asymmetric slit and adjusted things slightly to render an off-the-shoulder look.  Essentially a free-form exercise in 3D printing, the spray-on dress was left deliberately unfinished so as not to detract from the performance; had such a creation been built behind closed doors, either on a human or mannequin, re-usable and adjustable formwork would likely have been used to catch overspray and allow things like hems, straps and splits more precisely to be rendered.  On the night though, the fraying at the edges was just part of the look and Ms Hadid looked wonderful, a thinspiration to the whole pro-ana community.  The term “sprayed on” had long been used to describe skin-tight clothing but the Coperni show lent it a literalism new to most.

On the catwalk, spray-painting a model had been done before, two robots used in Alexander McQueen’s spring 1999 show to adorn Shalom Harlow (b 1973) after the fashion of those used in car assembly plants but that was literally just paint onto a conventional fabric whereas Ms Hadid’s dress appeared over bare (though presumably some sort of lotion was used to suit the properties of the plastic) skin.  The spray-on material is called Fabrican, created by Dr Manel Torres who first demonstrated its properties in 2006.  It’s a liquid fibre, bound by polymers, bio polymers and greener solvents which evaporate on contact with a surface (like Ms Hadid’s skin and including water).  As a fabric, it’s said to have a similar texture to suede and can be manipulated like any other but the feel can be altered depending on the fibers (natural or synthetic) used in the mix and the shape of the nozzle used on the spray device.

Although an eye-catching example of the technology, Fabrican’s place in fashion business is likely to be as an adjunct device rather than one used to create whole garments.  It would be invaluable for Q&D (quick and dirty) solutions such as effecting repairs or adding something but it’s been demonstrated as long ago as 2010 at London Fashion Week without demand emerging though it may yet find a niche.  What more likely beckons is a role in medicine (perhaps especially for military medics in the field) as a sterilized (perhaps even an anti-bacterial) bandage-in-a-can.  Indeed, the style of dress created in Paris is known as the “bandage” dress.

Bella Hadid, Coperni’s 2023 show, Paris, 2022

Shalom Harlow, Alexander McQueen’s spring show, London, 1999.

Aglet

Aglet (pronounced ag-lit)

(1) A tag or sheath at the end of a lace used for tying, as of a shoelace and made usually of plastic or metal; can be protective, decorative or both.

(2) A tip, originally of metal and often decorative, on a ribbon or cord that makes lacing two parts of a garment or garments together easier, as in corset lacings, "points" (lacing hose or trousers to jacket or doublet) or sleeves to a bodice (archaic sixteenth & seventeenth century use).  The aglet is still a part of dress uniforms in some militaries.

(3) An ornament worn on clothing, consisting of a metal tag on a fringe, or a small metallic plate or spangle; any ornamental pendant.

1400–1450: From the Late Middle English aglet, aglett & agglot from the Old French aguillete & Middle French aiguillette (a small needle), diminutive of aguille, the construct being aiguille (needle) + -ette (-et).  Root was the Late Latin acucula, an extended form (via diminutive suffix, but not of necessity an implication of smallness) of the Latin acus (a needle) from the primitive Indo-European root ak- (be sharp, rise (out) to a point, pierce).  Related were the Italian agucchia, the Portuguese agulha & the Spanish aguja (needle).  The alternative spellings aiguillette, aiglet & aygulet are used by some manufacturers.  Aglet is a noun; the noun plural is aglets. 

Lindsay Lohan Lightweight Leisure Breathable Running Shoes are available.  All use plastic aglets on the laces.

An aglet was sometimes known also as a catkin (spike of a flowering tree or shrub (especially a willow or birch) after fruiting, a 1570s derivation from Dutch katteken (flowering stem of willow, birch, hazel etc) which translates literally as "little cat or kitten”, diminutive of katte (cat).  The botanical connection to felines was because of the stems soft, furry appearance which had a resemblance to the lengthier kinds of a kitten’s tail.  It was cognate with the German Kätzchen and the Modern Dutch katje.  The ends attached to shoelaces were sometimes called catkins because of a similar visual connection.  Most of the earliest aglets probably were metal, glass or stone plastic hundreds of years away, although some were doubtless made from with fabric threads or thin strips of leather.  There’s more evidence of the metal ones in the archeological record because the survival rate of the hard materials is so much higher.  Known formally by cobblers as rabri threas igh somewere metalalso aiglet, (metal tag of a lace), they were created to prevent the fraying of boot-laces, making it easier to thread through the eyelet-holes, but later, certainly by the mid-fifteenth century and perhaps earlier, ornamental form had emerged for both men and women.

Variations on the theme.

The aglets may not first have been used for boot laces but rather as an alternative to buttons to fasten clothing.  Placed at the end of a ribbon, in addition to preventing fraying and permitting easier threading, their weight would have helpful when needing to find the end of the ribbon.  In ancient Rome, there would certainly have been a class divide in the aglet business, the poor folk probably using simple stones while those of the rich might have been fashioned from expensive metals, such as brass or silver.  Today, most aglets are made from a thin, stiff plastic and are used on more than just shoe-laces, cords, drawstrings and belts among the items with the handy terminations which can be functional, decorative or both.  Although there are a handful of fashion houses in Europe which still handcraft such things, most aglets are today applied by machines, the ones for shoes wrapping a plastic tape around the end of the lace, then using heat or chemicals to melt the plastic onto the shoelace and bond the plastic to itself.  Polyester laces can be crimped and heated so that an aglet is formed at the end out of the lace itself, the advantage being it’s less prone to falling off.

Aglets are available in various metals including stainless steel, titanium, aluminum, silver and gold.  The tiny size and defined shape of the device doesn’t lend much scope to designers seeking a decorative flourish beyond variations in color but bullets seem popular.

Phallus themed aglets exist but they seem not to be available for laces, instead being aglets in the other sense of the word: as ornamental pendant to be hung from the neck or attached to clothing.  The tradition of these reaches past antiquity and into pre-history, many societies known to have used fertility symbols.

Ri Sol-ju (b circa 1987) is the wife of DPRK Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un (Kim III, b 1982; Supreme Leader of DPRK (North Korea) since 2011) and she has sometimes appeared on state occasions wearing an aglet in the shape of the DPRK’s Hwasong-16 intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM, left & right).  Analysts suggest her choice is jewellery is a layered political statement: (1) Eschewing a decadently Western display of gold, diamonds or precious stones over her tempting décolletage (centre), the demurely attired First Lady wears something crafted as a simple pendant in silver and (2) She is telling the world Kim Jong-un makes nuclear weapons sexy. 

Nurdle

Nurdle (pronounced nhur-dl)

(1) In cricket, to work the ball away gently, especially to the leg side, gently nudging the delivery into vacant spaces on the field; such a shot played.

(2) In conversation, gently to waffle or muse on a subject about which once obviously knows little.

(3) In manufacturing, a pre-production micro-plastic pellet about the size of a pea, the raw material used in the manufacture of plastic products.

(4) In marine ecology as plastic resin pellet pollution (PRPP); marine debris.

(5) The depiction of a wave-shaped blob of toothpaste sitting on a toothbrush.

(6) That which is squeezed from tube to toothbrush.

Circa 1968: In the context of cricket, it’s of unknown origin but presumably some sort of blend, influenced possibly by “nerd” & “nudge”, the meaning conveyed being a style of play that is cautious, unambitious and unexciting; the slow accumulation of a score; there’s been the suggestion of a link with “noodle” but it’s hard to see the connection and there's no documentary evidence.  The earliest known citation is a 1985 match report in The Times (London).  The small, cylindrical pellets, the raw material of the manufacturing processes of many plastic products, have been called nurdles since at least the 1970s, a reference from that time noted in the manuals supplied with an injection-molding machine.  The word is likely to have been coined either because of the physical similarity of the pellets to some types of noodle or as a variation of nodule (a small node or knot) and plastic nurdles have for decades been recdorded as a significant proportion of marine pollution.  As used to describe the toothbrush-length squirt of toothpaste as it sits atop the bristles, the origin is murky but may be linked to nodule.  There have been suggestions the use by the American Dental Association in the 1990s in a public-service advertising campaign about the correct technique for brushing may have been the coining but the word was used in toothpaste advertising as early as 1968 although the original spelling seems for some time to have been “nerdle”.

The Great Nurdle Affair

Previously little discussed in law, the nurdle received some brief attention when a trademark-infringement lawsuit (Colgate-Palmolive Co v. GlaxoSmithKline LLC, US District Court, Southern District of New York, No. 10-05728) was filed in July 2010 by GlaxoSmithKline (GSK), makers of Aquafresh “Triple Protection” toothpaste, against Procter & Gamble (P&G), owners of the Colgate “Triple Action” brand.  Almost immediately, P&G counter-sued in the same court with the retaliatory GlaxoSmithKline LLC v. Colgate-Palmolive, No. 10-05739.  One was seeking, inter alia, the exclusive right to depict a nurdle, the other claiming the image was so generic anyone enjoyed the right.

Aquafresh’s Triple Protection & Colgate’s Triple Action.

The disputes hinged on “triple” as a descriptor and “nurdle”, not as a word but as the image of a wave-shaped blob of toothpaste sitting atop the bristles on the head of a toothbrush.  GSK's core argument was that it held trademark registrations on both “triple protection” and a red, white & blue-striped nurdle.  P&G argued “triple protection” was weak and that a nurdle is inherently merely descriptive because it is but a literal image of the product.  What the court had to decide was whether a reasonable consumer, on seeing the nurdle and “triple action” text description on packages of Colgate toothpaste, could be sufficiently misled to believe what they were looking at was sourced, sponsored or endorsed by GSK which used both on their Aguafresh brand.

GSK’s nurdle.

In a filing of some eighty pages, P&G noted its recent release in the US of a toothpaste with packaging which superimposes the words “Triple Action” (the implication being (1) cavity protection, (2) fresh breath & (3), whiter teeth) atop a blue, white and green nurdle.  In response, GSK, which uses the “Triple Protection” phrase on its Aquafresh products, filed a trademark application for the "nurdle design" regardless of color; this induced P&G to sue to enforce its rights to use the nurdle.  P&G further noted GSK did not file their application until after they had already complained about P&G’s nurdle design and suggested GSK was using the process to stifle competition by asserting an excessively broad scope for trademark rights.

P&G’s nurdles, registered by Colgate as trademarks. 

GSK’s filing was only half the length and accused P&G of adopting various nurdle designs and the “Triple Action” mark in an effort to “trade off the commercial magnetism” of GSK own packaging which had since 1987 included a distinctive red, white and blue nurdle, an argument which implied elements of both usurpation and ambush marketing.  P&G asked the court to declare its “Triple Action” phrase and interpretation of the nurdle not confusingly similar to GSK’s own “Triple Protection” phrase and nurdle which used distinctively different colors.  It sought also have the court (1) cancel GSK’s “Triple Protection” and nurdle trademark registrations and (2), deny such injunctive relief that would have prevented P&G from using any nurdle design and a phrase containing “triple”.  Damages were sought on several grounds including punitive damages.  It was a case of some commercial significance given GSK had deployed the nurdle as a cartoon character in a marketing campaign aimed at children, the idea being that if children pestered their parents enough to buy Aquafresh for them, it was likely they’d gain the whole family as a conquest.  The nurdle campaign ran on Nurdle World in the US and The Nurdle Shmurdle in the UK.

Post settlement: Colgate Triple Action with a visually different nurdle.

Late in 2011, the parties announced a notice of settlement had been filed in the court; a confidential settlement had been negotiated.  The details have never been made public but a review of supermarket shelves suggests (1) the red, white & blue GSK nurdle is acknowledged to be propriety, (2) a nurdle nevertheless remains generic and can be depicted as long as it is sufficiently distinguished from GSK’s 1987 original and (3) things claiming to be of or pertaining to happening in threes may be described as “triple” whatever but, in the context of toothpaste, “triple protection” is a GSK trademark.  P&G could thus display a nurdle, just not GSK’s nurdle.  So, as a private settlement, there’s no change to established law but those inhabiting that grey space between ambush marketing and actual deceptive and misleading conduct no doubt took note.  A judge might anyway find the outcome in accordance with the operation of trademark law: a trademarked image as specific as the GSK nurdle is entitled to protection but, as a general principle, a word as notoriously common as “triple” is the property of the commons available to all.

In Germany, between the 1920s and the end of World War II (1939-1945), nurdles could be radio-active, toothpaste sold with trace amounts for thorium obtained from monazite sands, the promotional material of which read: “Increases the defenses of teeth and gums” & “Gently polishes the dental enamel, so it turns white and shiny”.  Although known since at least the mid-1920s, it was only in the aftermath of the A-bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki (1945) that the adverse effects of ionizing radiation in high or sustained does became widely recognized, rendering radio-active toothpaste an undesirable product in the minds of mothers everywhere.  Although radio-active toothpaste sounds evil, the Nazis can't be blamed for it being on the shelves, its debut dating from the Weimar Republic (1918-1933).  

Save Paste structural concept for toothpaste packaging.

From the days when folk made their own toothpaste by mixing water, salt and the soot from chimneys, toothpaste has become one of the sometimes unacknowledged markers of civilized life.  The packaging though has been little changed since 1889 when Johnson & Johnson introduced their range in collapsible metal tubes.  The switch from metal to plastic happened over decades, necessitated initially by wartime shortages but by the 1990s, tubes were almost universally plastic.  Despite that, the fundamental design remained unchanged and was often inherently inefficient, supplied in a cardboard box, much of the internal capacity of which was unused because of the shape of the tube.  The design added cost and induced adverse environmental outcomes because (1) the box was unnecessary and immediately discarded and (2), the surplus volume added to the costs of storage and transportation.  One interesting suggestion has been the trapezoidal package.

By using a single cardboard container as both collapsible container and display packaging, it eliminates the need for a separate box.  Also, if designed with the correct geometry, multiple trapezoidal containers can more efficiently be packed for transportation and storage, thereby reducing the energy expended.  This simple trick of packaging. if extended to all products sold in tubes should result in a significant reduction in energy consumption (road, rail and air transport) and therefore in greenhouse emissions.  Additionally, the carboard is more easily recycled than plastic. 

One thing toothpaste manufacturers seem never anxious to discuss is the opinion of many experts that GSK’s classic nurdle, extending the length of the brush-head, is way too much and adults should instead use a nurdle no bigger than a pea.  Restraint when squeezing out a nurdle for children should be even more severe because of the risk when young of swallowing too much toothpaste containing fluoride: it increases the risk dental fluorosis, a cosmetic condition that affects the appearance of the teeth, ranging from brown and light discoloration to darker strains and even pitting.  On a very young child’s brush, rather than a plump nurdle, the toothpaste should just be a smear although they can use an adult's pea-sized nurdle after the age of three.  The British Dental Association summarize best practice by recommending (1) the correct amount of toothpaste for most people to use is a pea size, (2) brush at least twice daily, with a fluoridated toothpaste, brush last thing at night and at least on one other occasion; if possible brush after every meal, (3) use a fluoridated toothpaste (1,350–1,500 ppm fluoride) and (4), spit out after brushing and do not rinse (this maintains the fluoride concentration level).

Lindsay Lohan on the set of HBO's Eastbound & Down (2013), brushing teeth while smoking.  It's an unusual combination but might work OK if one smokes a menthol cigarette and uses a nurdle of mint toothpaste.  Other combinations might clash.

Manikin & Mannequin

Manikin (pronounced man-i-kin)

(1) A man short in stature; (sometimes as a term of endearment but now archaic).

(2) In folklore, a dwarf; pygmy.

(3) An anatomically correct model of the human body (or a part of the body), used for teaching or demonstrating surgical and other clinical techniques; a specialized form is the phantom, an anatomical model of a fully developed fetus, for use in teaching midwifery or obstetrics.

(4) A three-dimensional figure, dummy or effigy representing a man or person (now replaced by mannequin), manikin now correctly used only in the medical context.

1560s: From the Dutch manneken (literally “little man”), a diminutive of the Middle Dutch mannekijn, from the Proto-Germanic manwaz, from the primitive Indo-European root man- (man).  The original meaning was "a jointed model of the human figure used by artists" and the sense and spelling is often blended with mannequin.  The early synonyms (in the context of small humans) included homunculus, midget, peewee, shorty, titman, & doll and (in the sense of the artificial creations) dummy, figure, mannequin & marionette.  The noun plural is manikins; the (rare) alternative spelling is mannikin.

Mannequin (pronounced man-i-kin)

(1) A styled and three-dimensional representation of the human form used in window displays, as of clothing; dummy.

(2) A figure or model of the human figure used by tailors, dress designers etc, for fitting or making clothes; historically made from timber but now constructed from many combinations of materials.

(3) A person employed to wear clothing to be photographed or to be displayed before customers, buyers etc; a clothes model (dated).

(4) In the visual arts, arts another name for a lay figure

1902: From the fifteenth century French mannequin (model to display clothes) from the Dutch manneken (model of the human figure used by artists).  Mannequin was the French form of the same word that yielded manikin and in English, was sometimes used in the sense "artificial man" (especially in translations, the trend apparently triggered by the frequency of use in early twentieth century translations of the works of Victor Hugo (1802–1885)).  Originally, it was applied to humans in the modern sense of “a model” and not until 1931 did it assume the meaning of “artificial human model figure to display clothing”.  A sideway variation was the later “clotheshorse” (a person whose chief interest and pleasure is dressing fashionably).  The noun plural is mannequins.

The difference between a Manikin and a Mannequin

Mannequin was a word once used where model would now be preferred, a person employed to wear clothes and carry accessories but since the 1930s a mannequin is a usually plastic or fibreglass emulation of the human form (in shape but not fine detail), typically found scattered throughout clothing and department stores, most famously as part of displays in shop-front windows.  Most mannequins represent a body shape within a fairly narrow range of dimensions but the industry recognizes eighteen different types including the obvious like “sexy” and “sporty” but there are also the niches such as pregnant people.

Manikins are also human shaped models but rather than being a fashion platform, they are used to help simulate medical, surgical, or clinical scenarios to assist in training and the honing of technique.  There are a variety of manikins and in the jargon of the medical devices industry, they range from low to high fidelity, the rating an indication of the degree of anatomical realism included, a high-fidelity manikin sometimes even including movement, speech, muscular reaction and facial expressions.  A high-fidelity manikin might include a complete set of internal organs and have many interchangeable parts whereas a low-fidelity model might be just a hollow shell used to teach students how to insert an IV or perfect the techniques of bandaging.

Manikins exist so those working in a clinical environment, from students to surgeons, can enjoy a safe environment in which to practice their skills, without the obvious risk of using live patients.  Although doctors continue, as they have for centuries, to murder their patients, rarely suffering any consequences due to the cozy legal apparatus known as “medical misadventure”, the use of manikins presumably lessens the slaughter of the innocent.  Like mannequins, manikins are designed for purpose and there are birthing simulators, newborn simulators, simulators that go into cardiac arrest, and even dental simulators.

L'Inconnue’s death mask.

Although anatomical models were used in medical training as early as the sixteenth century, the first manikin (in the modern understanding) was released in 1960 as a device for teaching cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR).  The design parameters were written by two physicians, Austrian Peter Safar (1924-2003) and American James Elam (1918–1995), the engineering and fabrication handled by Norwegan Åsmund Lærdal (1914-1981), head of a company with expertise in plastic molding from their experience as a manufacturer of children’s toys.  Famously, the face on the manikin is that of L'Inconnue (L'Inconnue de la Seine (The unknown woman of the Seine)).

Crowd at the public viewing portal of the Paris Morgue, circa 1890.

L'Inconnue, was probably about sixteen when she died in the late 1880s and although it’s not certain, most then concluded she took her own life.  As was done at the time, after her lifeless form was pulled from the River Seine at the Quai du Louvre, the corpse was put on public display at the Paris mortuary, a popular attraction and one justified by the purpose of hoping some of the dead might be identified.  Despite the daily crowd, none came forward to name L'Inconnue.  The dead waif however was far from unnoticed, many remarking on her unusually serene appearance and one much taken by her was the pathologist who performed the autopsy.  He had a plaster-cast taken of her face (a not uncommon practice) and within years, reproductions of L'Inconnue's alluring, deathly likeness were being sold throughout Europe, the mesmerizing mask, later describe by philosopher Albert Camus (1913-1960) as a "drowned Mona Lisa", fixed to the walls of drawing rooms, fashionable salons and the studios of (presumably already troubled) artists.  The silent beauty also attracted writers and early in the twentieth century there was a rash of imaginative fiction speculating about the short life of L'Inconnue, many melodramatic, most constructing a short, tragic life battered by ill fortune and finally taken by the waters of the Seine.  For writers, it was the lure of the tragic, death, water and a waif irresistibly romantic and in death she became the one of the great influencers of her age, described as “the aesthetic template for a whole generation of German girls who modeled their looks on her", adored in death as many authors liked to imagine she never was when alive.

L'Inconnue’s death mask would over the years attract artists and it’s been rendered in many materials including ceramics, copper, bronze, granite and even chocolate, seen as an icon and on canvas with a variety paints.

Decades later, L'Inconnue’s image would again be revived.  Åsmund Lærdal in the 1940s had been a manufacturer of small wooden toys but in the post-war years, attracted by the possibilities of the then novel plastic, he experimented with the soft, malleable substance and, finding it ideal for his purposes, embarked on mass-production, one of his products the acclaimed toy “Anne”, a baby with “sleeping eyes and natural hair".  Anne enjoyed international success and when told the two anesthesiologists, impressed by the life-like behavior of the doll’s plastic material, had asked if he could fabricate and mass-produce a life-sized adult manikin on which could be demonstrated their newly developed resuscitation technique, they found an attentive listener; some years earlier, Lærdal's two year old son had nearly drowned and had his father not forced the water from his airways, he too may well have died.  For a toymaker with expertise in the molding of plastic to form hollow toys, it was a formidable engineering challenge not only to create a realistic, functional maikin that reliably could be used to demonstrate the physical complexities of CPR but to design a mass-produced product which would be financially viable.

Resusci Anne in carry-case.

The technical specifications provided by the doctors had included a collapsible chest for practicing compressions and open lips to simulate mouth-to-mouth resuscitation but Lærdal, after discussions with his engineers, concluded it was also important the manikin should be recognizably female, suspecting men might be reluctant to practice CPR on a male doll's lips.  It was during the design process Lærdal recalled the enigmatic half-smile on a mask he'd seen on a wall while visiting relatives and it was this memory which inspired him to choose L'Inconnue.  Resusci Anne (Rescue Anne or CPR Anne in the US) was released in 1960 and was the first device of its type, so successful the Lærdal Toy Company soon transformed to become Lærdal Medical and it’s estimated over 300 million people around the world have been trained in CPR, most of them using Resusci Anne.  If L'Inconnue really did, as so many authors would have, take her own life in the depths of a despair only unrequited love can induce, fate would have her in death inspire Resusci Anne, called “the most kissed girl in the world”.

Perhaps surprisingly, Andy Warhol never took L'Inconnue as his subject.  This one is a fake.

Despite the sad charm of that, it couldn’t happen now, the ethics of making reproductions of a dead person's face and selling them without consent, un-discussed in the late nineteenth century, troubling today.  Were such a product now to be created and a life-like face was necessary, the visage would have to be either licensed or anonymized.  However, psychologists have conducted trials using a genuine Resusci Anne and one with no discernible facial characteristics and reported the more anthropomorphic appeared to enhance the realism of resuscitation training.  The researchers noted the face made CPR training more intense and stressful for both clinicians and lay-people but their follow-up questionnaires some months later revealed those who “kissed L'Inconnue” displayed a much higher recall of the techniques learned on the day.  She may have died forgotten, but in her immortal after-life, L'Inconnue is clearly memorable.

The romance of L'Inconnue is compelling but there have long been doubts about the original masks, sceptics suggesting it’s unlikely the flawless features could have come from a corpse fished from a river, the suspicion being a pretty young model might have been the source for the cast taken to take commercial advantage of the great public interest in the story of the young girl.  There are other theories too and the truth will never be known but L'Inconnue’s mystery is the essence of the strange tale.

Some assembly required: The Apprentice Doctor’s Full-Body Adult, Nursing and Trauma Manikin.

Supplied as a kit complete with burns, lacerations, and broken bones, it’s said to offer a realistic experience in the identification, assessment, treatment, and transport of trauma patients and disaster victims and can be used in forensic medicine and CSI training, working well as a manikin for crime scene simulation projects.  Prices start at US$1,199.00.

To ensure durability and ease of maintenance, the manikin contains no latex and the manufacturer cautions the kit (1) is intended exclusively for classroom instructional (educational) use and training purposes, (2) requires adult supervision and guidance for students under the age of 17 years and is not suitable for those under the age of 15 and (3) contains items that may pose a choking hazard to toddlers and babies (keep out of reach of these age groups).

Intended as a low-maintenance product, the post training cleaning routine consists of (1) after nasal feeding, gastric lavage, enema, male and female urethral catheterization procedures, empty all the residual liquid, used from the stomach, intestines and bladder, (2) Rinse all used tubes & catheters with water and dry for re-use and (3) if in disuse for an extended period of time, the manikin should be wiped clean, covered and placed in a cool, dry place; this will extend service life.

Art deco (though with some debt to mannerism) lady Mannequin bust in plaster for hat or jewelry display.  Just as there are flesh & blood models who specialize is one body part (hand models, foot models etc), there are also mannequins produced for the purpose of featuring just one or several body parts.

Fashion mannequins have been in use since the fifteenth century and were originally the head-forms with which milliners ensured a hat maintained the correct shape during construction.  Once a purely “back-of-house” or “workshop” device, as the price of glass was reduced by the adoption of techniques perfected by the late sixteenth century, glass-windows in shop-fronts became larger and more common so milliners essentially invented the “window display” in its modern form.  Although it had been the practice of many artisans and merchants to display their goods in this manner, it was the milliners who were first in fashion.  By the mid eighteenth century, full-scale, wickerwork mannequins were being used to display dresses, the more conveniently adjustable versions made with wire first manufactured in Paris in 1835.  However, the expansion of the trade created a demand for cheaper, lighter, non-adjustable forms which were purely a platform for display and the first (papier-mâché) female mannequins were sold in France in the mid-nineteenth century, the higher-end stores soon adopting mannequins made from wax which produced a more lifelike appearance but, expensive and apt to be fragile, the wax was in the 1920s supplanted by a more durable composite material, based on plaster.

Statuesque: Two mannequins in the window display of Chanel Shop, Prince's Building, Central Chater Road, Hong Kong.

Modern mannequins are almost always made from plastic or fiberglass although the, as marketing devices, the haute couture houses have used (sometimes stylized) one-off mannequins made from metal and even what was claimed to be carbon-fibre though experts quickly pronounced it fake (as opposed to faux).  Fiberglass mannequins are usually more expensive than plastic and tend to be more fragile but can be rendered in a more life-like form which can be done with plastics but not at a reasonable cost.  In fact, the trend in recent years has been for plastic mannequins to eschew any attempt to appear realistic, presumably to ensure the focus fixes on the clothes.  Artists have also used articulated mannequins (historically known as lay figures), as a tool to assist the rendition of draped figures, the advantage being that unlike a live model (on an hourly rate), a mannequin can be kept indefinitely immobile or adjusted as required.  Additionally, they don’t complain about the cold, demand lunch or take cigarette breaks.

Vintage Playtex Cross Your Heart wire-free bra in beige, displayed on fibreglass mannequin.  For specific purposes, mannequins are sometimes produced with certain aspects scaled beyond the usual size range.

While there are variations which tend to be product-deterministic (and the upper ranges of the alphabet in the bra business is an obvious niche), the size and shape of most mannequins exists in a predictably narrow range and one acknowledged to be smaller in most dimensions (except height) than either the majority of the adult female population or that aligned to the majority of the garments actually sold.  In this of course it follows the profile of the industry’s live models who are famously taller, lighter and thinner than all but a handful of their customers although, under pressure from activists, this pattern is now (slightly) less extreme than once it was, despite many wishing those days would return.  Before we called models models we called them mannequins and, flesh, plastic or fibreglass, little has changed as an extract from The Bystander’s (a British weekly magazine which in 1940 merged with Tatler to be published as The Tatler & Bystander until 1968) edition of 15 August 1906 suggests:

”A mannequin is a good-looking, admirably formed young lady, whose mission is to dress herself in her employer's latest "creations" and to impart to them the grace which only perfect forms can give.  Her grammar may be bad, and her temper worse, but she must have the chic the Parisienne possesses, no matter whether she hails from the aristocratic Faubourg St. Germain or from the Faubourg Montmartre.”

Lindsay Lohan with several mannequins, New York Fashion Week, 2009.