Problematic

Problematic (pronounced prob-luh-mat-ik)

(1) Of the nature of a problem; doubtful; uncertain; questionable; a problem or difficulty in a particular field of study.

(2) Involving or presenting a problem that is difficult to deal with or solve.

(3) Tending or likely to elicit objections or disapproval; offensive.

(4) A generalized euphemism used to refer to unfashionable opinions or statements and deployed usually as a critique of anything thought to contribute to or reinforce systemic discrimination (racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia etc), particularly if expressed implicitly or with some tricks of subtlety.

(5) In formal logic (of a proposition), asserting that a property may or may not hold; only affirming the possibility that a predicate be actualized (now rare).

1600-1610: From the Middle French problématique (doubtful, questionable, uncertain, unsettled), from the Late Latin problēmaticus, from the Ancient Greek προβληματικός (problēmatikós) (pertaining to a problem), from problēmatos, from πρόβλημα (próblēma) (out-jutting, barrier, problem), from προβάλλω (probállō) (I throw, place before), the construct being πρό (pró) (before) + βάλλω (bállō) (I throw, place).  The most common derived form is unproblematic and the connotations of problematic are now such that words once (depending on context) effectively synonymous such as ambiguous, dubious, moot, precarious, puzzling, questionable, tricky, uncertain, unsettled, arguable, chancy, debatable, disputable, doubtful, dubitable, enigmatic, iffy, indecisive & open no longer convey the same implications.  Problematic is a (rare) noun and (more commonly) an adjective, problematical is an adjective, problematically is an adverb.  Attempts to deploy problematic as a verb seem inevitable because the existing problematize ((1) to make something into a problem; (2) to consider something as if it were a problem & (3) (as an intransitive verb) to propose problems) is neutral and a loaded verb would be a more useful weapon.  In that sense the noun plural ploblematics, now rare (some claim obsolete) in formal logic, will likely evolve in parallel.

Michel Foucault (1926-1984).

The specific sense in formal logic, differentiating what is possible from what is necessarily true, has been used since the early seventeenth century although problematical appears in the papers of mathematicians, engineers and architects as early as the 1560s and the first entry in the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) in 1609 defined problematic as “presenting a problem or difficulty”.  The related but distinct meaning "constituting, containing, or causing a difficulty" is a modern form from a modern discipline, used first by US sociologists in 1957.  From there (like paradigm, methodology etc), it was picked up elsewhere in academia (impressionistically appearing most popular in newer fields (gender studies, communications studies etc)) where it padded out the length a bit but added little to meaning.  What lent problematic the meaning shift which is now its most celebrated sense was one of the strands of post-modernism, the adoption by English-speaking academia of the theories of French structuralists like philosopher and literary critic Michel Foucault (1926-1984) who defined “problematization” as a process whereby something treated previously as uncontroversial by a dominant culture came to be understood not just as a problem but one demanding (political, social, legal, linguistic etc) change.

Foucault’s imperative thus was political but use of the word as exists in the twenty-first century has become nuanced.  The criticism is that problematic frequently is used merely a form of virtue-signaling, what used to be called the politics of warm inner glow: a perfunctory expression of disapprobation at something thought oppressive (racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia et al) disconnected from any positive action which might address the underlying problem (in the traditional sense of the word).  In the contemporary parlance, it’s thus a passive aggressive word, an almost polite euphemism handy to use when one wishes to show they understand something is racist, sexist, homophobic etc without wishing to be sufficiently confrontational to do anything about it.

Whether that’s a problem (or indeed problematic) has in itself been positioned as a problem in itself because, in the narrow technical sense, those who advocate a linguistic crackdown on anything which they construe as oppressive are themselves imposing another form of oppression.  Although modern terminology (like transphobia, ageism etc) might make this appear novel, the culture wars, political correctness or however else such things are described are not new and have probably operated since the earliest instances of differentiated expression in human culture.  There is however something new in the layers of deconstruction now attached to the process and the evolution of problematic is an interesting contribution to the discourse.

Generational shifts

Scarlett Harris on The Parent Trap.

In a phenomenon which is not so much new as newly institutionalized, things once not “problematic” are now often reclassified as “problematic” once analysed using current thinking in the various strains of critical theory.  That’s been going on for at least decades but is now much more obvious because social media platforms mean the number of those able instantly to find a potential world-wide audience has proliferated and, as the field become more congested, forms of expression have become increasingly strident as the algorithms rewarded those who generate the most controversy.  Structurally, re-classifications can gain critical mass because of a specific event but, as a general principle, the trend probably tends to be generational.  It was in 2023, 25 years (one of the convenient measures of “a generation” in thought) after the movie The Parent Trap (1998) was released that cultural critic Scarlett Harris explained why the comedy, once thought innocuous enough safely to be watched by young children, must now be listed as “deeply problematic”.  Acknowledging the “hijinks the twins get up to” has for decades kept it on the family friendly roster of networks and streaming services, Ms Harris observed “nostalgia is notoriously rose-colored” and if viewed through a “modern lens”, The Parent Trap must be judged: “deeply isturbed”.

Quoting psychiatrist Dr Sulman Aziz Mirza, Ms Harris says what makes The Parent Trap problematic is the way it “…glosses over the aspect of anger and resentment towards parents” and that does seem a reasonable point given the twins seemed both to cope with remarkable equanimity the sudden knowledge that after living for almost twelve years as “an only child”, each actually had a twin sibling.  Dr Mirza said, on the basis of his experience with young and adolescent patients, the children should be suffering from “the loss of a sibling bond.  To reconnect at that age [amplifies] the loss, especially in the developmental years.  We rely so much on our siblings.”  His point was the sense of loss would have been heightened in the case of twins because of the well-documented “twin bond” whereas in the film all this was ignored and what would usually have been at least potentially traumatic instead was deployed just “as a flimsy plot point to get this boring white couple back together” (in critical theory, a way usually is found to blame white people (preferably Christian, hetrosexual men) for something), adding that also could be “damaging to viewers with similar experiences.”

Ms Harris suggests that were The Parent Trap again to be remade today, “much more credence would be given to the psychological ramifications of the twins” and what should be explored would be issues like “family separation, incarceration, missing children and immigration”, which, she adds “disproportionately affect families of color.”  Dr Mirza did concede the parents in the film weren’t guilty of “child abuse per se” but it was an example of “shitty parenting”, parental separation being “…one of the ten adverse child experiences that can have impacts in adulthood.”  Now we know why The Parent Trap is “deeply problematic”.

Not all found the film problematic but then such judgements can be influenced by one’s personal experiences.  Berlin based cultural critic Olivia Ladanyi revealed that growing up with a stepfather, she’d often wondered about her “real dad” and it was The Parent Trap which inspired her “to seek him out”.  Six years old when the film was released, Ms Ladanyi reacted to her father having deserted the family as Dr Mirza suggested would be expected: feeling her “life felt as if it had been torn in half, right down the middle – like the photograph of their parents that Hallie and Annie piece together in the film.”  Looking often at a few photographs of him, she’d “fantasised about what it would be like to be reunited with this mythical man whom my childish imagination had turned into someone great” and although there had over the years been “strange” birthday gifts and “long, self-pitying letters”, it was when, at 15, she got a Facebook account that his messages “flooded” her inbox.  Included in the information imparted was that she’d been conceived in a dilapidated Transylvanian church and “real” father also had “four other children with three different women”.  Whether The Parent Trap had included details like that in the plot would have made Ms Harris think it more or less problematic is something to ponder.

Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap: Unlike in Disney movies, there are not always happy endings.

When Ms Ladanyi did meet him, although the reunion happened at Budapest Airport, it lacked the emotional impact of what happened in the film and the rest of her visit was similarly disappointing although on the drive to the city, her father did point out the jail where her great-grandfather had been imprisoned after being convicted of “malpractice as a gynaecologist”.  Again, splicing a gem like that into The Parent Trap’s screenplay would have made for a different sort of movie.  At the end of her brief trip, she was anxious to return to her family, her stepfather and two half-sisters feeing related in a way her “real” father did not.  Probably the most problematic thing about The Parent Trap is it gives youth an unrealistic expectation of life for rarely is it possible to go back and often it's a mistake to seek the opportunity to try.

Diagnosis & Prognosis

Diagnosis (pronounced dahy-uhg-noh-sis)

(1) In clinical medicine, the process of determining by examination the nature and circumstances of a diseased condition.

(2) The decision reached from such an examination; the abbreviation is Dx.

(3) In general use, a determining or analysis of the cause or nature of a problem or situation; an answer or solution to a problematic situation.

(4) In taxonomy (particularly in biology), a written description of a species or other taxon serving to distinguish that species from all others.  Historically, this was applied especially to a description written in Latin and published.

1675–85: A borrowing from the New Latin diagnōsis, from the Ancient Greek διάγνωσις (diágnōsis) (a distinguishing, means or power of discernment), from διαγιγνώσκω (diagignṓskō or diagignōskein (to distinguish; to discern (literally "to know thoroughly" or "know apart (from another)”)) from gignōskein (inquiry, investigation, knowing; come to know).  The construct was διά (diá) (through) + γιγνώσκω (gignṓskō) (to know).

The early precise meaning in medical Latin was “pre-scientific discrimination" applied especially in pathology, soon becoming a general "recognition of a disease from its symptoms".  The noun plural is diagnoses and derived forms include the nouns diagnostician & the rare (technical use only) prediagnosis (now more often as pre-diagnosis) and the adjective diagnostic.  One that probably should be more common than it appears, given the frequency with which it happens, is misdiagnosis.

Prognosis (pronounced prog-noh-sis)

(1) In clinical medicine, forecasting of the probable course and outcome of a disease, especially of the chances of recovery.

(2) In general use, a forecast or prognostication.

1645-1655: A borrowing from the Late Latin prognōsis, from the Ancient Greek πρόγνωσις (prógnōsis) (foreknowledge, perceiving beforehand, prediction), the construct being προ- (pro-) (before) + γνῶσις (gnôsis (gignōskein)) (inquiry, investigation, knowing; come to know), from γιγνώσκω (gignṓskō) (to know); the primitive Indo-European root was gno- (to know).  The general (non-medical) use in English dates from 1706 and there were (now rare) back-formations, the verb prognose noted in 1837 and the adjective prognostical as early as the 1680s.  In the Classical Latin prognostica meant "sign to forecast weather".

Prognostic (prognostick the obsolete spelling) & prognostication are nouns, prognosticable is an adjective, prognosticate is a verb.  From the Latin root English gained prognosis, French pronostic, German Prognose, Italian prognosi, Norman prog'nose (Jersey), Spanish pronóstico & Hungarian prognózis; in the invented international language of Esperanto, it is prognozo.

Clinical use

Prognosis is the companion word to diagnosis and the two are sometimes confused.  A diagnosis is an identification of a disease via examination or the result of some diagnostic test.  What follows is a prognosis, which is a prediction of the course of the disease as well as the treatment and results.  The schoolbook trick to remember the difference is (1) that a diagnosis comes before a prognosis, and diagnosis is before prognosis alphabetically and (2) diagnosis and detection both start with "d" whereas prognosis and prediction both start with "p".

Former US President Donald Trump was diagnosed with COVID-19 after a positive result to a test.  His prognosis was based on (1) what’s known generally about COVID-19 and (2) risk-factors specific to his case.  His risk factors included:

(1) Old: (74).

(2) Overweight (BMI 30+).

(3) Male (varies between countries but male death rate tends to be higher).

(4) He is sub-Human although, as a risk-factor, this remains speculative.  It’s mostly only some black Africans who are pure Humans; the rest of the world’s population is a sub-human mongrel blend, descendants of inter-breeding between humans and Neanderthals thousands of years ago.  It’s being hypnotized the unexpectedly good outcomes in sub-Saharan Africa during pandemic suggest some genetic advantage in being a pure Human; the research is not complete and there may be other factors (or some statistical quirk) but it is possible a genetic risk-factor related to the SARS-CoV-2 virus was inherited from archaic Neanderthals some sixty-thousand years ago.

Vogue

Vogue (pronounced vohg)

(1) Something in fashion at a particular time or in a particular place.

(2) An expression of popular currency, acceptance, or favor.

(3) A highly stylized modern dance that evolved out of the Harlem ballroom scene in the 1960s, the name influenced by the fashion magazine; one who practiced the dance was a voguer who was voguing.

(4) In Polari, a cigarette or to light a cigarette (often in the expression “vogue me up”).

(5) The world's best known women's fashion magazine, the first issue in 1892 and now published by Condé Nast.

1565–1575: From the Middle English vogue (height of popularity or accepted fashion), from the Middle French vogue (fashion, success (literally, “wave or course of success”)), from the Old French vogue (a rowing), from voguer (to row, sway, set sail), from the Old Saxon wegan (to move) & wogōn (to sway, rock), a variant of wagōn (to float, fluctuate), from the Proto-Germanic wagōną (to sway, fluctuate) and the Proto-Germanic wēgaz (water in motion), wagōną (to sway, fluctuate), wēgaz (water in motion) & weganą (to move, carry, weigh), from the primitive Indo-European weǵh- (to move, go, transport (and an influence on the English way).  The forms were akin to the Old Saxon wegan (to move), the Old High German wegan (to move), the Old English wegan (to move, carry, weigh), the Old Norse vaga (to sway, fluctuate), the Old English wagian (to sway, totter), the Proto-West Germanic wagōn, the German Woge (wave) and the Swedish våg.  A parallel development the Germanic forms was the Spanish boga (rowing) and the Old Italian voga (a rowing), from vogare (to row, sail), of unknown origin and the Italianate forms were probably some influence on the development of the verb.  Vogue, voguie & voguer are nouns (voguette an informal noun), voguing is a noun and adjective, vogued is a verb and vogueing & voguish are adjectives; the noun plural is vogues.  The noun voguie is a special use and is a synonym of fashionista ((1) one who creates or promotes high fashion (designers, editors, models, influencers etc) or (2) one who dresses according to the trends of fashion, or one who closely follows those trends).

All etymologists seem to concur the modern meaning is from the notion of being "borne along on the waves of fashion" and colloquially the generalized sense of "fashion, reputation" is probably from the same Germanic source.  The phrase “in vogue” (having a prominent place in popular fashion) was recorded as long ago as 1643.  The fashion magazine (now owned by Condé Nast) began publication in 1892 and young devotees of its advice (they are legion) are voguettes.  In linguistics, vogue words are those words & phrases which become suddenly (although not always neologisms) popular and fade from use or becoming clichéd or hackneyed forms (wardrobe malfunction; awesome; problematic; at this point in time; acid test; in this space; parameters; paradigm etc).  Because it’s so nuanced, vogue has no universal synonym but words which tend to the same meaning (and can in some circumstances be synonymous) include latest, mod, now, rage, chic, craze, currency, custom, fad, favor, mode, popularity, practice, prevalence, style, stylishness, thing, trend & usage.

Lindsay Lohan cover, Vogue (Spanish edition), August 2009.

In Regional English, "vogue" could mean "fog or mist" and in Cornwall, the hamlet of Vogue in the parish of St Day gained its name from the Medieval Cornish vogue (a word for a medieval smelting furnace (ie "blowing house", the places generating much smoke)); civilization contributing to the increase in atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gasses is nothing new.  Clearly better acquainted with trademark law than geography, in early 2022 counsel for Condé Nast sent a C&D (cease and desist letter) to the inn-keeper of the village’s The Star Inn at Vogue pub, demanding the place change its name to avoid any public perception of a connection between the two businesses.  The owners of the venerable pub declined the request (cheekily suggesting they might send their own C&D to Vogue demanding the publication find a new name on the basis of usurpation (an old tort heard before the Court of Chivalry).  Condé Nast subsequently apologized, citing insufficient investigation by their staff, a framed copy of their letter hung on the pub's wall.  Honor apparently satisfied on both sides, the two Vogues resumed the peaceful co-existence which had prevailed since 1892. 

1981 Range Rover In Vogue from the first run with the standard stylized steel wheels (left) and a later 1981 In Vogue with the three-spoke aluminum units.

Much of the 1970s was spent in what to many felt like a recession, even if there were only some periods in some places during which the technical definition was fulfilled and the novel phenomenon of stagflation did disguise some of the effects.  Less affected than most (of course) were the rich who had discovered a new status-symbol, the Range Rover which, introduced in 1970 had legitimized (though there were earlier ventures) the idea of the "luxury" four-wheel-drive (4WD) segment although the interior of the original was very basic (the floor-coverings rubber mats rather than carpets on the assumption that, as with the even more utilitarian Land Rovers, there would be a need to "hose out" the mud accumulated from a day's HSF (huntin', shootin' & fishin')), the car’s reputation built more on it's then unique blend of competence on, and off-road.  So good was the Range Rover in both roles that owners, used to being cosseted in leather and walnut, wanted something closer to that to which they were accustomed and dealers received enquiries about an up-market version.

Lindsay Lohan at the opening of the Ninety years of Vogue covers exhibition, Crillon Hotel, Paris, 2009.

That had been Rover’s original intention.  The plan had been to release a basic version powered by four cylinder engines and a luxury edition with a V8 but by 1970 time and development funds had run out so the car was released with the V8 power-train and the more spartan interior although it was quickly apparent few owners took advantage of being able to hose out the mud.  Indeed, so skewed was the buyer profile to urban profiles it's likely the only time many ventured off the pavement was to find a good spot in the car parks of polo fields.  In something which must now seem remarkable, although already perceived as a "prestige" vehicle, for the first decade-odd, the Range Rover was not available with either air-conditioning or an automatic transmission.  However, if the rich were riding out the decade well, British Leyland (which owned Rover) was not and it lacked the capital to devote to the project.  Others took advantage of what proved a profitable niche and those with the money (or spending OPM (other people's money) could choose from a variety of limited-production and bespoke offerings including LWB (long-wheelbase) models, four-door conversions, six wheelers and even open-topped versions from a variety of coach-builders such as Wood & Pickett and low-volume manufacturers like Switzerland’s Monteverdi which anticipated the factory by a number of years with their four-door coachwork.

Rendez-vous à Biarritz, Vogue magazine, March 1981.  The eight page advertising supplement was for Lancôme and Jaeger fashion collections, the Wood & Pickett-trimmed Range Rover a "backdrop" which would prove a serendipitous piece of product placement. 

British Leyland was soon subject to one of the many re-organizations which would seek (without success) to make it a healthy corporation and one consequence was increased autonomy for the division making Range Rovers.  No longer compelled to subsidize less profitable arms of the business, attention was turned to the matter of a luxury model, demand for which clearly existed.  To test market reaction, in late 1980, the factory collaborated with Wood & Pickett to design a specially-equipped two-door model as a proof-of-concept exercise to gauge market reaction.  The prototype (HAC 414W) was lent to Vogue magazine, a crafty choice given the demographic profile of the readership and the by then well-known extent of women’s own purchasing power and influence on that of their husbands.  Vogue took the prototype to Biarritz to be the photographic backdrop for the images taken for the magazine’s co-promotion of the 1981 Lancôme and Jaeger fashion collections, published in an eight-page advertising spread entitled Rendez-vous à Biarritz in the March 1981 edition.  The response was remarkable and while Lancôme and Jaeger’s launch attracted polite attention, Vogue’s mailbox (which then received letters in envelopes with postage stamps) was overwhelmingly filled with enquiries about the blinged-up Range-Rover (although "bling" was a linguistic generation away from use).

Vogue's Range Rover In Vogue (HAC 414W) in Biarritz, 1981, all nuts on board or otherwise attached.  The model name was a play on words, Range Rovers very much "in vogue" and this particular version substantially the one "in Vogue".

Rover had expected demand to be strong and the reaction to the Vogue spread justified their decision to prepare for a production run even before publication and the Range Rover In Vogue went on sale early in 1981, the limited-edition run all closely replicating the photo-shoot car except for the special aluminum wheels which were not yet in volume production.  Amusingly, the triple-spoke wheels (similar to the design Ford had used on the 1979 (Fox) Mustang) had been a problem in Biarritz, the factory supplying the wrong lug nuts which had a tendency to fall off, meaning the staff travelling with the car had to check prior to each shoot to ensure five were present on each wheel which would appear in the picture.  Not until later in the year would the wheels be ready so the In Vogue’s went to market with the standard stylized steel units, meaning the brochures had to be pulped and reprinted with new photographs and some small print: "Alloy wheels, as featured on the vehicle used by Vogue magazine will be available at extra cost through Unipart dealers later in 1981".  British Leyland's record-keeping was at the time as chaotic as much of its administration so it remains unclear how many were built.  The factory said the run would be 1,000, all in right hand drive (RHD) but many left hand drive (LHD) examples exist and it’s thought demand from the continent was such another small batch was built although this has never been confirmed.  The In Vogue’s exclusive features were:

Light blue metallic paint (the model-exclusive Vogue Blue) with wide body stripes in two shades of grey (not black as on the prototype).
High compression (9.35:1) version of the V8 (to provide more torque).
Higher high-gear ratio (0.996:1) in the transfer box (to reduce engine speed and thus noise in highway driving).
Air conditioning
Varnished walnut door cappings.
Armrest between the front seats.
Map pockets on the back of the front seats (the rationale for not including the folding picnic tables so beloved by English coach-builders being the design of the Range Rover's rear tailgate had made it the "de-facto picnic table".
Fully carpeted luggage compartment.
Carpeted spare wheel cover and tool-kit curtain.
Picnic hamper.
Stainless steel tailgate cap.
Black wheel hub caps.

The "fitted picnic hamper".

Condé Nast would later describe the In Vogue’s custom picnic hamper as the car’s "pièce de résistance". which might have amused Rover's engineers who would have put some effort into stuff they'd have thought "substantive".  Now usually written in English as "piece de resistance" (masterpiece; the most memorable accomplishment of one’s career or lifetime; one's magnum opus (great work)), the French phrase pièce de résistance (literally the "piece which has staying power") seems first to have appeared in English in Richard Cumberland (1732–1811) novel Arundel (1789).  One can see the writer's point.  Although the walnut, additional torque and certainly the air conditioning would have been selling points, like nothing else, the picnic hamper would have delighted the target market.

Demand for the In Vogue far exceeded supply and additional production runs quickly were scheduled.  In response to customer demand, the most frequently made request was acceded to, the second series available with Chrysler's robust TorqueFlite automatic transmission, introduced at the same time as the debut of a four-door version, another popular enquiry while the three-spoke wheels became standard equipment and equipment levels continued to rise, rear-head restraints fitted along with a much enhanced sound-system.  In what was perhaps a nod to the wisdom of the magazine's editors, although a cooler replaced the hamper for the second run, for the third, buyers received both cooler and hamper.  The third series, launched in conjunction with the Daks autumn fashion collection at Simpson's of Piccadilly, included a digital radio, the convenience of central locking and the almost unnoticed addition of front mud flaps so clearly there was an understanding that despite the Range Rover's well deserved reputation as a "Chelsea taxi", the things did sometimes see the mud and ladies didn't like the stuff getting on their dresses as they alighted.  In 1984, as "Vogue", it became the regular production top-of-the-range model and for many years served in this role although, for licencing reasons, when sole in the US it was called the "Country").  For both companies, the In Vogue and subsequent Vogues turned out to be the perfect symbiosis.

Art and Engineering

Vogue, January 1925, cover art by Georges Lepape.

From the start, Vogue (the magazine) was of course about frocks, shoes and such but its influence extended over the years to fields as diverse as interior decorating and industrial design.  The work of Georges Lepape (1887-1971) has long been strangely neglected in the history of art deco but he was a fine practitioner whose reputation probably suffered because his compositions habitually were regarded as derivative or imitative which seems unfair given there are many who are more highly regarded despite being hardly original.  His cover art for Vogue’s edition of 1 January 1925 juxtaposed one of French artist Sonia Delaunay’s (1885–1979) "simultaneous" pattern dresses and a Voisin roadster decorated with an art deco motif.

1927 Voisin C14 Lumineuse.

One collector in 2015 was so taken with Pepape’s image that when refurbishing his 1927 Voisin C14 Lumineuse (literally “light”, an allusion to the Voisin’s greenhouse-inspired design which allowed natural light to fill the interior), he commissioned Dutch artist Bernadette Ramaekers to hand-paint a geometric triangular pattern in sympathy with that on the Vogue cover in 1925.  Ms Ramaekers took six months to complete the project and when sold at auction in London in 2022, it realized Stg£202,500.  There are few designers as deserving of such a tribute as French aviation pioneer Gabriel Voisin (1880–1973) who made military aircraft during the First World War (1914-1918) and, under the name Avions Voisin, produced a remarkable range of automobiles between 1919-1939, encapsulating thus the whole inter-war period and much of the art deco era.  Because his designs were visually so captivating, much attention has always been devoted to his lines, curves and shapes but the underlying engineering was also interesting although some of his signature touches, like the (briefly in vogue) sleeve valve engine, proved a mirage.

Voisin's extraordinary visions:  1934 C27 Aérosport (left), 1934-1935 Voisin C25 Aérodynes (centre) & 1931 C20 Mylord Demi Berline (right).

Also a cul-de-sac was his straight-12 engine.  Slow-running straight-12 (there is even a straight-14 which displaces 25,340 litres (1,546,000 cubic inches) and produces 107,290 hp (80,080 kW)) engines are known at sea where they’re used in (very) big ships but on the road (apart from some less than successful military vehicles), only Voisin and Packard ever attempted them, the former making two, the latter, one.  Voisin’s concept was simple enough; it was two straight-6s joined together, end-on-end, the same idea many had used to make things like V12s (2 x V6s) straight-8s (2 x straight-4s) H16s (two flat-8s, one atop another) and even V24s (2 x V12s) but the sheer length of a straight-12 in a car presented unique problems in packaging and the management of the torsional vibrations induced by the elongated crankshaft.  Straight-12s were built for use in aircraft (Bristol's Type 25 Braemar II in 1919 using four of them!) where the attraction was the aerodynamic advantage conferred by the small frontal area but as engine speeds increased in the 1920s, so did the extent of the problem of crankshaft flex and the concept was never revived.

1934 Voisin C15 Saloit Roadster (left) and the one-off Packard straight-12, scrapped when the decision was taken not to proceed to production (right).

The length of the straight-12 meant an extraordinary amount of the vehicle’s length had to be devoted to housing just the engine and that resulted in a high number for what designers call the dash-to-axle ratio.  That was one of the many reasons the straight-12 never came into vogue and indeed was one of the factors which doomed the straight-8, a configuration which at least had some redeeming features.  Voisin must however have liked the appearance of the long hood (bonnet) because the striking C15 Saloit Roadster (which could have accommodated a straight-12) was powered by a straight-4, a sleeve valve Knight of 2500 cm³ (153 cubic inch).  The performance doubtlessly didn’t live up to the looks but so sensuous were those looks that many would forgive the lethargy.  The concept of a short engine in a lengthy compartment was revived by Detroit in the 1960s & 1970s, many of the truly gargantuan full-sized sedans and coupes built with elongated front & rear structures.  At the back, the cavernous trunks (boots) often could swallow four sets of gold clubs which would have had some appeal to the target market but much of the space under the hood was unused.  While large enough to accommodate a V16, the US industry hadn't made those since the last of the Cadillac V16s left the line in 1940 after a ten-year run.  While one of the reasons the V8 had supplanted the straight-8 was its relatively compact length, that virtue wasn't needed by the late 1950s when, in all directions, the sheet-metal grew well beyond what was required by the mechanical components, the additional size just for visual impact to enhance the perception of prestige and luxury in an era when bigger was better.  Dramatic though the look could be (witness the 1969 Pontiac Grand Prix), the packaging efficiency was shockingly wasteful.

The Dart which never was

Using one of his signature outdoor settings, Norman Parkinson (1913-1990) photographed model Suzanne Kinnear (b 1935) adorning a Daimler SP250, wearing a Kashmoor coat and Otto Lucas beret with jewels by Cartier.

The image appeared on the cover (left) of Vogue's UK edition in November 1959, the original's (right) color being "enhanced" in the Vogue pre-production editing tradition (women thinner, cars shinier).  The "wide" whitewall tyres were a thing at the time, even on sports cars and were a popular option on US market Jaguar E-Types (there (unofficially) called XK-E or XKE) in the early 1960s.  The car on the Vogue cover was XHP 438, built on prototype chassis 100002 at Compton Verney in 1959; it's the oldest surviving SP250, the other two prototypes (chassis 100000 & 100001 from 1958) dismantled when testing was completed.  XHP 438 was the factory's press demonstrator and was used in road tests by Motor and Autocar magazines before being re-furbished (motoring journalists subjecting the press fleet to a brief but hard life) and sold.  Uniquely, when XPH 438 was first registered in England, it was as a "Daimler Dart".

More Issues Than Vogue sweatshirt from Impressions.

There was however an issue with the "Dart" name.  The SP250 was first shown to the public at the 1959 New York Motor Show and there the problems began.  Aware the little sports car was quite a departure from the luxurious but rather staid line-up Daimler had for years offered, the company had chosen the pleasingly alliterative “Dart” as its name, hoping it would convey the sense of something agile and fast.  Unfortunately, Chrysler’s lawyers were faster still, objecting that they had already registered Dart as the name for a full-sized Dodge so Daimler needed a new name and quickly; the big Dodge would never be confused with the little Daimler but the lawyers insisted.  Imagination apparently exhausted, Daimler’s management reverted to the engineering project name and thus the car became the SP250 which was innocuous enough even for Chrysler's attorneys and it could have been worse.  Dodge had submitted their Dart proposal to Chrysler for approval and while the car found favor, the name did not and the marketing department was told to conduct research and come up with something the public would like.  From this the marketing types gleaned that “Dodge Zipp” would be popular and to be fair, dart and zip(p) do imply much the same thing but ultimately the original was preferred and Darts remained in Dodge’s lineup until 1976, for most of that time one of the corporation's best-selling and most profitable lines.  Cynically, the name was between 2012-2016 revived for an unsuccessful and unlamented FWD (front-wheel-drive) compact sedan.

Camisole

Camisole (pronounced kam-uh-sohl)

(1) A short garment worn underneath a sheer bodice to conceal the underwear; also called cami (pronounced kam-ee).

(2) A woman's dressing jacket or short negligée.

(3) A sleeved jacket or jersey once worn by men (now obsolete but occasionally revived as a catwalk novelty).

(4) As camisole de force, a straitjacket with long sleeves (mostly historic references).

1816: From the French and the Old Occitan (also called Old Provençal) camisola, the construct being camis(a) + -ola; the Late Latin camīsa (shirt) was also the source of chemise and the Latin suffix -ola was added to a noun to form a (sometimes pejorative) diminutive of that noun; a variant was the Late Latin camisia (shirt or nightgown).  The thread was well-known in romance languages, the Old Portuguese camisa (shirt) was from the Late Latin camisia (shirt), from Transalpine Gaulish (of Germanic origin) from the Proto-Germanic hamiþiją (clothes, shirt, skirt), from the primitive Indo-European ḱam- (cover, clothes).  The modern use meaning a “sleeveless undergarment for women” dates from circa 1900 but for most of the late nineteen the century it generally meant "straitjacket” (a restraint for lunatics). Camisole is a noun & verb and camisoled is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is camisoles.

Camisole de force: The straitjacket

Crooked Hillary Clinton in Camisole de force (digitally altered photo).

Although ad-hoc wearable physical restraints had existed long before, the camisole de force (straitjacket) was invented circa 1772 by Irish doctor David MacBride (1726-1778), the more romantic story of it being a creation of a Monsieur Guilleret, a tapestry maker at Bicêtre Hospital, apparently a myth.  The basic concept endures to this day although they are now less used, having largely been supplanted by camisoles chimiques (or neuroleptics (a class of psychotropic drugs used to treat psychosis)).  The only fundamental change in design is that modern camisoles de force are made with sleeves, the early types restraining the arms directly under the fabric were found to be most uncomfortable.

Camisole de force on the catwalk: Straitjacket chic by Gucci and others.

Catwalks were once a place where fashion existed for fashion's sake and while there could be social or political implications in what was worn, the messaging usually had to be some sort of overt threat to the establishment for much of a protest to be raised.  However, we live now in more sensitive times and designers have to be aware of factors as diverse as religion, ethnicity, skin color, sexual orientation, age, body mass index (BMI) and the seemingly all-encompassing "cultural appropriation".  Gucci recently had to withdraw from sale a jumper (US$890, Stg£715) after critics found it too reminiscent of blackface minstrels, the connection being the built-in half-balaclava with knitted plump red lips.  That fixed, the fashion house was then accused of cultural appropriation because one of their headpieces (US$790, Stg£635) too closely resembled a Sikh turban.   To clarify the extent of the sin, the US-based Sikh Coalition issued a statement: "The Sikh turban is not just a fashion accessory, but it's also a sacred religious article of faith."

Madness (an now unfashionable word banned in polite company; the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) recommending "mental disorder" or "psychiatric disorder") may also be on fashion's banned list after Ayesha Tan-Jones (b 1993, who is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns) staged a non-oral, verbal protest while on the catwalk (they might prefer the less exploitative "runway") in the Gucci show at Milan Fashion Week 2019.  Tan-Jones and other models were dressed in white jumpsuits for the show (and it can't be long before even the use of white is declared "problematic"), some of which used the motif of the straitjacket.  On their hands, Tan-Jones had written the words "Mental health is not fashion", clearly not accepting Gucci's rationale the designs were meant to represent "how through fashion, power is exercised over life, to eliminate self-expression".  That has some linguistic tradition because women have in the past not infrequently described demands to be fashionable as "a straitjacket" but Tan-Jones presumably would prefer the notion remain a simile rather than a publicity stunt.

Ayesha Tan-Jones on the catwalk, Milan Fashion Week, September 2019. 

After the show, Tan-Jones issued their own statement, writing "Straitjackets are a symbol of a cruel time in medicine when mental illness was not understood, and people's rights and liberties were taken away from them, while they were abused and tortured in the institution.  It is in bad taste for Gucci to use the imagery of straitjackets and outfits alluding to mental patients, while being rolled out on a conveyor belt as if a piece of factory meat."  That was followed up with another post which added they, along with some of the other models in the show, were donating to mental health charities a portion (% not mentioned) of the modeling fees paid by Gucci.  "Many of the other Gucci models who were in the show felt just as strongly as I did about this depiction of straitjackets, and without their support I would not have had the courage to walk out and peacefully protest" they said.  In response, the fashion house didn't address the substantive issued raised but did confirm straitjacket chic was just "...a statement for the fashion show and will not be sold", adding the line was intended as "...an antidote to the colourful designs in the rest of the Spring/Summer 2020 show".

Lindsay Lohan in camisole.

Hecatomb

Hecatomb (pronounced hek-uh-tohm or hek-uh-toom)

(1) In ancient Greece and Rome, any great public sacrifice and feast, originally a public sacrifice to the gods of 100 oxen.

(2) In Medieval use, by extension, any great sacrifice; a great number of people, animals or things, especially as sacrificed or destroyed; a large amount.

(3) In modern use (loosely), any great slaughter.

1585–1595:  From the Latin hecatombē, from the Ancient Greek ἑκατόμβη (hekatómbē) (originally (and literally) “an offering of 100 oxen” and later “any great sacrifice”), from hekatombwā, the construct derived from the idea of ἑκατόν (hekatón) (one hundred) + -bwā, (a form which etymologists have always found curious an assumed to be a derivative of βοῦς (boûs) (ox), from the primitive Indo-European root gwou- (ox, bull, cow).  The origin of hékaton is also a mystery but the construct may be from hem-katon, with hen (a neuter of heis or eis (one)) + katon (hundred).  The first month of the Attic calendar (July-August) was Hekatombaion, the annual season of sacrifice.    Hecatomb is a noun; the noun plural is plural hecatombs.

Hecatomb remains rare and obscure except in historic use but can, in the correct context, be used as a linguistic flourish as an alternative to warfare, havoc, killing, slaughter, crime, butchery, bloodshed, homicide, murder, liquidation, rapine, blood, blitz, holocaust, extermination, annihilation, shambles etc but should not replace the specific forms genocide or the holocaust; opinion is divided on whether it’s a suitable substitute for events pre-dating World War II which were historically described as holocausts.  Holocaust was from the Middle English holocaust (burnt offering), from the Anglo-Norman holocauste, the Old French holocauste & olocauste (which exists in modern French as holocaust), from the Late Latin holocaustum, from the Ancient Greek ὁλόκαυστον (holókauston), the neuter form of ὁλόκαυστος (holókaustos) (wholly burnt), the construct being ὅλος (hólos) (entire, whole (ultimately from the primitive Indo-European solh- (whole)) + καυστός (kaustós) (burnt), from καίω (kaíō) (to burn, burn up), the source of which is uncertain although there may be some link with the primitive Indo-European kehw-.  The verb is derived from the noun

The word holocaust is regarded by some as problematic (in the modern way that word is now used).  Holocaust has since at least the 1960s been established as the descriptor of the industrialized mass murder of Jews by the Nazis, the decision to exterminate the Jews of Europe taken in 1941 and formalized in 1942.  Some Jewish scholars however criticize the use of the word because of the historical associations with voluntary sacrifices to God and don’t wish any to draw the inference there was any voluntary religious purpose in the Nazi crime, either from the perspective either of the perpetrators or the victims.  Their preferred term is Shoah, (from the Hebrew שׁוֹאָה‎ (catastrophe).  Other Jewish scholars note the technical point but argue the use of Holocaust (capitalized) uniquely as a descriptor for the events of 1942-1945 is didactically helpful in a way a wider adoption of Shoah would not serve.

The Pentelic marble sculpture of the procession of sacrificial bulls during Hekatombaion, from the Parthenon frieze.

According to a legend which appears in more than one source, when the Greek philosopher Pythagoras discovered what came to be called the Pythagorean theorem (the one about famous right-triangles), he celebrated by sacrificing a hecatomb (100 head) of oxen to the gods.  Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, 1832–1898) is remembered now mostly for Alice’s many adventures but he was also a prolific author of works in mathematics, a discipline in which he took a first at Oxford.  In A New Theory of Parallels (1895), he wrote his whimsical take on the legend of the Pythagoras’s sacrifice.  As an anecdote it probably wouldn’t get many laughs in a any of today’s stand-up comedy clubs but it’s a nice relic of gentlemanly Victorian humor by one who was once an Oxford under-graduate and never quite recovered:

But neither thirty years, nor thirty centuries, affect the clearness, or the charm, of Geometrical truths.  Such a theorem as “the square of the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the sides” is as dazzlingly beautiful now as it was in the day when Pythagoras first discovered it, and celebrated its advent, it is said, by sacrificing a hecatomb of oxen — a method of doing honor to Science that has always seemed to me slightly exaggerated and uncalled-for.  One can imagine oneself, even in these degenerate days, marking the epoch of some brilliant scientific discovery by inviting a convivial friend or two, to join one in a beefsteak and a bottle of wine.  But a hecatomb of oxen!  It would produce a quite inconvenient supply of beef.

That in the German vernacular someone thought a dunce is called “an ox” allowed the penning of some Teutonic whimsy, the satirist Karl Ludwig Börne (1786–1837) observing: “After Pythagoras discovered his fundamental theorem he sacrificed a hecatomb of oxen. Since that time all dunces tremble whenever a new truth is discovered.”  The botanist and romantic poet Adelbert von Chamisso (1781–1838) also liked the pun which he used in a short verse:

Truth lasts throughout eternity,

When once the stupid world its light discerns:

The theorem, coupled with Pythagoras’ name,

Holds true today, as’t did in olden times.

 

A splendid sacrifice Pythagoras brought

The gods, who blessed him with this ray divine;

A great burnt offering of a hundred kine,

Proclaimed afar the sage’s gratitude.

 

Now since that day, all cattle [blockheads] when they scent

New truth about to see the light of day,

In frightful bellowing manifest their dismay;

 

Pythagoras fills them all with terror;

And powerless to shut out light by error,

In sheer despair, they shut their eyes and tremble.