Fritinancy

Words of the Decade: Fritinancy Edition

End of the year, end of the decade. Time to do some retrospecting, don't you think? Over the next couple of weeks I'll be posting my lists of words and brands that (IMHO, of course) have made the greatest impact during 2009 and during the Naughties.

The American Dialect Society will announce its own Word of the Decade at the society's annual meeting in January. To create my own list, I've observed the ADS criteria, selecting words that were, in my estimation:

• especially prominent or important throughout the years 2000-2009
• indicative of trends, fads, upheavals, groundswells, or sea changes which affected history, culture, or society throughout the years 2000-2009.

As you'll see, the 9/11 attacks and the wars they precipitated had a big effect on the decade's vocabulary.

If you don't see a word you think belongs on the list, it may be because it had its heyday in a previous decade. Or it may have risen to prominence in 2009, in which case there's a good chance I'll be including it in my Words of the Year post (coming soonhere!).

In alphabetical order:

 

Eh?

Are your ears burning?

Because, you know, I'm talking about you.

What? Not even a tingle?

Here's something that ought to raise the temperature: a little Passion.

Not the Passion you dab behind your ears--the Passion you put in your ears.

I'll enunciate clearly: the Passion is a highly intelligent hearing instrument with Receiver-in-Canal (RIC) technology and precise Integrated Signal Processing (ISP)

Got it? Passion is a hearing aid, one of several new brands being marketed to a rapidly growing market of Boomers who stood in the front row of one too many rock concerts. And who don't flinch at spending $2,800 to $4,000 per ear to reclaim their sonic youth. 

According to a four-page insert in my daily newspaper, the Passion, from Widex, is "virtually invisible" and "the world's smallest hearing aid." Curiously, although the device disappears inside the ear canal, it's offered "in a luxurious selection of 12 top shell colors with gold and platinum detailing"--perhaps in case you choose to wear your Passion on your sleeve.

Widex's launch effort is straightforward compared to last year's major hearing-device introduction, the Audéo from Phonak. (I wrote about the Audéo's in-your-face ad campaign here.) Unlike Phonak, Widex uses old-fashioned marketing language and conventional images of youngish, satisfied-looking customers. It proclaims the Passion to be "the #1 new hearing aid of the year," a phrase the company has somehow managed to trademark. (Widex has also trademarked "ear candy" and "lifestyle saver," and illustrates the product next to small round candies.)  

But the call to action is unintentionally amusing: "LET US SHOW YOU HOW SMALL THE PASSION REALLY IS!"

When it comes to passion, my own motto is: go big or go home.

Seriously, though, "Passion" strikes me as an off-target name for a hearing aid, even for one that comes in a dozen colors.

As I know from watching older relatives endure countless frustrating experiences, buyers of hearing aids aren't shopping for excitement: they want quality, comfort, clarity, and reliability. Those primary benefits are better communicated by the names of Passion's high-tech competitors: Audéo, Dot from ReSound, Pure from Siemens, and--my favorite--Lyric from InSound Medical. Respectively, those names say hearing, precision, simplicity, and sweet music.

In general, I'm guessing that Widex's strong suit is technology, not nomenclature. Other Widex model names include Inteo (OK, but not strongly evocative), Senso (a bit generic), and Senso Diva. (Yes, our dear friend Diva!) And there's a Bravo and a Bravissimo--gee, wonder which one I'd rather own?

Then there's Widex itself, which looks disconcertingly like Windex while suggesting a rather uncomfortable amplitude.

As for Passion, let's not forget that the word's original meaning is suffering, as in "the passion of Christ." And consider all that passion connotes in contemporary English: Volatility. Jealousy. Crimes of. 

Of course, longtime readers already know my stated objections to the promiscuous use of passion in non-boudoir contexts. Newcomers can catch up here.

___

"Acoustic appliances" (Sears, Roebuck catalog) from here.

There Are Divas at the Bottom of My Garden

Wee twee divas spotted in the garden department of Long's Drugstore:

They're made by the very prolific Amy Brown, whose website is "dedicated to the Believers." Each ornament, made of polystone and standing about 5 inches high, retails for about $25. The opportunity to tell the world "Take your so-called good taste and shove it": priceless.

Extra credit to anyone who heard in my post title the singular trill of Beatrice Lillie (1894-1989) singing "There Are Fairies at the Bottom of My Garden," the song that made her the darling of le tout gay London in the 1920s. (No, I'm not that old; I just have a highly random store of useless knowledge.)

Every Woman a Queen

Patricia Hearst Shaw--remember her? with the Symbionese Liberation Army? and the roles in the John Waters movies?--was in the spotlight once again this week, this time in the genteel environs of the 132nd Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, where her champion French bulldog took home the Best of Opposite Sex prize.

But enough about Patty. Let's talk about the dog. Specifically, the dog's name. On paper she's "Shann's Legally Blonde." But she picks up her ears and smiles a doggy smile when you call her "Diva."

Then again, who doesn't? Once upon a time, the term (which means "goddess" in Italian) was applied highly selectively, and with all due respect, to opera megastars such as Maria Callas. These days, everyone with a pair of X chromosomes is a diva. We're so democratic! Divacratic, even.

Consider this selective sampling from the brand-o-sphere:

Diva Cup®--"not a tampon, not a pad"--is a reusable silicone "menstrual solution," and without being overly graphic, I'll just say it's the least diva-esque product imaginable. (Full disclosure: I have used a similar product, and ladies, it truly is the answer to your prayers. Go get one.)

Divabetic wants to "makeover [sic] your diabetes." The organization sponsors events that are "your gateway to finding answers, feeling inspired and learning new ways to live well with diabetes while enjoying an exciting mix of free beauty and fashion services." The name was one of those coup de foudre things that happen when divas walk among us: "While attending a tribute concert to Luther Vandross ... [organization co-founder] Max [Szadek] coined the word 'divabetic' after watching Ms. Patti LaBelle reveal in her own sassy way that she was living with diabetes." Sign me up, girlfriend!

DIVA is "Europe's only mainstream lesbian magazine."

Hotel Diva, in San Francisco's theater district, calls itself a "Sexy Boutique Hotel" (caps sic). According to the hotel's designer, "hotels are about ... sleeping in a new bed, great linens, using as much hot water as you want, room service, getting up late, and having sex in the middle of the day." Now that's direct marketing.

Zappos, the online shoe store, features four pages of shoes code-named Diva, including the Gel-Dirt Diva 2 running shoe and the Diaper Dude Divas Diaper Bag. (Divas do diapers?)

"The Diva" is Old Navy's name for its lowest-rise jeans.

Diva Furniture sells furniture in Los Angeles and Seattle.

Viva Diva, a clothing boutique not far from where I live, gets points for rhyming.

Diva Espresso, which has four Seattle locations, gets points for referring to itself as "she" ("Diva paid her growing-pains dues...").

Surf Diva offers surfing lessons in San Diego.

Then there's the sisterhood of blogging divas: Cooking Diva, Techie Diva (pink! pink! pink!), Retail Design Diva (which had a nice post a few months ago on why store mannequins no longer smile).

Autism Diva hasn't posted in a while. I hope everything's OK.

And oh so much more: Diva Limousine (but of course!), Diva cooktops (divas cook?), Diva jewelry...

Still not quite sure about this diva thing? Take the Blogthings "Are You a Diva?" quiz (sample question: "Do you often cancel plans at whim?"). Then fine-tune the picture with the "What Decade Diva Are You?" test.

Finally, in honor of Patty Hearst and her champion canine companion: not one, not two, not three, but four "Diva Dog" brands on just the first page of a Google search: the Diva Dog collar collection, The Diva Dog "celebrity dog clothes," The Diva-Dog Bowtique, and Diva Dogs (UK).

P.S.: You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll roll around in something ripe when you see Diva Dog: Pit Bull on Wheels. From the plot synopsis:

The story of Coral, who was left permanently paralyzed by a hit-and-run driver. She touched and inspired people wherever she went, and now her legacy lives on as the official spokesdog for disabled animals everywhere.

Happy Valentine's Day, all you divas, human and otherwise. And smooches to you dudes, too.

Hat tip for the title of this post: Huey P. Long and Randy Newman.

Photo: Union Street clothing boutique, San Francisco.