A Certain Je Ne Sais Quoi : The Origin of Foreign Words Used in English

by Chloe Rhodes

  Barry in accounts seemed like such a mild-mannered and steady man, and yet the rumor was that he had an alter ego—Rosalita Lamé—and performed at the local cabaret club every other Friday.

  Amok/amuck, to run

  furious attack (Malay)

  The word comes from the Malay description of a psychiatric disturbance, in which the sufferer is first subdued or even depressed before suddenly becoming wild, maniacal, and usually violent toward others. It is still used to describe the condition of people who commit a sudden, unprovoked attack, but it has also developed a colloquial meaning. When people are said to be “running amok”—like rioters, for example—they are acting wildly and without rational self-control.

  Police had to be called to a major department store sale today after shoppers ran amok in the toy department.

  Amuse-bouche

  mouth amuser (French)

  Something to tickle the taste buds before the arrival of a starter, an “amuse-bouche” will never appear on a menu, as it is complimentary and chosen by the chef. The concept of a bite-size taster of the chef’s signature style was introduced as part of the nouvelle cuisine movement, which specializes in offering small, beautifully presented and intensely flavored courses. In France the colloquial phrase “amuse-gueule” (“gueule” being slang for “mouth”) is more often used.

  Tonight, mademoiselle, we have a speciality of roasted sea bass in a tarragon jus and to begin, an amuse-bouche of green pea and mint sorbet in a crisp Parmesan tuile.

  Angst

  fear (German)

  Angst is generally translated simply as “fear,” but it is often used to describe a profound horror, or existential dread, as coined by German philosophers in the mid-1800s. English novelist George Eliot wrote of “Die Angst,” which brought on a pain in the heart, and the word became more widespread in English after the translation of Austrian psychologist Sigmund Freud’s work. The 1980s saw the birth of teen angst—based on the sense of injustice and futility that comes with raging hormones, and you can now regularly find sports fans and businesspeople “angsting” over match results and corporate deals.

  I’ve never known anything to cause as much angst as this week’s unemployment numbers.

  Annus horribilis

  horrible year (Latin)

  A pun on “annus mirabilis,” which described a year of British victories in the eighteenth century, this phrase was first used in Queen Elizabeth’s speech at the end of 2002. Her year had been marred by the breakdown of three royal marriages and a devastating fire at Windsor Castle. Two years later Kofi Annan, then the UN secretary-general, repeated the phrase to describe a year in which the UN’s Iraq “Oil for Food” program had been tainted by charges of corruption. It is now used widely to describe a bad year.

  With the highest rainfall on record this really has been an annus horribilis for fans of beach volleyball.

  Anorak

  heavy hooded jacket (Greenland Inuit)

  The cozy, hooded “anoraq” is the garment worn by the Inuit people of the Arctic to protect them against the very harshest weather conditions. In the 1960s the “anorak” became popular in Britain as a style of jacket with a fur-trimmed hood beloved of Mods. The European version was a prototype for the technical clothing that evolved later for mountaineers, sailors, cavers, and other adventurers. At the time, it was innocent of negative associations. Today the word is used pejoratively for an enthusiast interested in information regarded as boring or unfathomable by the rest of us, probably because it’s long been favored by trainspotters.

  Rodney, an unashamed enthusiast for technical detail, was wearing a high-quality Gore-Tex anorak on the day he rescued three barely dressed fashionistas caught in a blizzard.

  Appellation contrôlée

  officially certified origin (French)

  This refers to “appellation d’origine contrôlée,” the French system of guaranteeing the specific origin of their wines. Established in 1935, this method of classification controls seven aspects of the wine-producing process: the land vines are grown on, grape varieties used, viticultural methods (pruning and fertilization), yield, alcohol content, historical practices employed, and the taste, which are all tested before certification is given. In the UK and the United States our familiarity with the term is generally restricted to reading it on a wine label with a sigh of satisfied anticipation.

  Ah-ha, an Appellation Bordeaux Contrôlée—perfect with roast beef!

  Après-ski

  after skiing (French)

  “Après-ski” is used in English to describe the activities, primarily the nightlife, indulged in at ski resorts once the sun goes down. In the Alps the first après-ski drink is usually enjoyed in a bar near to the slopes while you’re still sporting your ski wear. In France the term actually refers simply to the snow boots that you change into once you’ve taken your skis off, but most people would agree that the anglicized version has wider appeal. In the United States its meaning is broader still and extends to the general ambience of a resort.

  Susan loved her winter breaks, though she never actually hit the slopes; she preferred to save her energy for the après-ski.

  Apropos

  on the subject of (French, from “à propos de”)

  There are several interlinked definitions for this phrase; the first is used, as in French, for “on the subject of,” but more broadly it has come to mean “pertinent to,” or “apt.” For example, “an excellent point and very apropos.” But it can also be used for “by the way,” or “incidentally,” when you’re saying something that isn’t to the point at all but seems worth saying anyway.

  I should probably point out, apropos, that there are many foreign phrases that we use very liberally in English without ever having the faintest idea what they actually mean.

  Arriviste

  a person who has arrived (French)

  An “arriviste” is someone who has risen to a higher rank in society but hasn’t yet earned the respect of those he or she is joining. It was first used widely during the dramatic class changes that took place during the Industrial Revolution in the UK, when working-class families were able to ascend the social ladder with money made through enterprise rather than inheritance. In English the phrase is synonymous with “social climber,” and in a modern context, it might be used to describe someone who is rather obnoxious or pushy.

  Lady Budley-Hoebottom was determined not to make eye contact with Miss Carter. She was an arriviste if ever there was one—fake tan and acrylic nails always gave the game away.

  Ars longa, vita brevis

  the art is long, life is short (Latin)

  This aphorism was coined by ancient Greek physician Hippocrates and comes from a longer quotation, which translates as, “Life is short, the art [in the sense of craft or skill] long, opportunity fleeting, experiment dangerous, judgment difficult.” Hippocrates had surmised that none of us should be too hard on ourselves if we make mistakes, given that life is generally a very tricky business. In modern use the “life is short” bit has assumed a greater significance and is often quoted to remind someone to make the most of every minute (see Carpe diem page 37).

  Don’t beat yourself up about it, Dave, you’ll pass next time—ars longa, vita brevis and all that.

  Art nouveau

  new art (French)

  This was the international style of art and architecture that developed in the late 1800s and took its name from a Parisian gallery called the Maison de l’Art Nouveau, though, ironically, the French themselves often used the English term “modern style” to describe it. In the UK the architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh (1868-1928) was the movement’s leading practitioner. The popularity of the style gave rise to many copies, and now we also use the term to describe designs that imitate the art nouveau style.

  Veronica’s collection of coffee cups was her pride and joy—her favorite was a little pink one that she thought was rather art nouveau.

  Assassin

&
nbsp; hashish-eater (Arabic, from “Hashshashin”)

  The Assassins, also known as the Hashshashin, were a militant Islamic sect founded in the ninth century when Yemeni Shiite Hasan-I Sabbah led them in their mission to overthrow the Suni Muslims by killing off their leaders. The name Hashshashin, meaning “hashish-eaters,” was given to them by their enemies. The word “assassin” was first recorded in English in 1603 and is now used to describe a hired killer, usually with a political target.

  As a boy, Lance had dreamed of becoming a spy or a highly trained assassin. He still couldn’t work out how he’d ended up in telemarketing.

  Au fait

  informed (French)

  In French this expression can mean “by the way,” but if it is embedded within the line “être au fait de,” it means “to be informed about” or “up to a respectable level in.” There are, of course, many synonymous phrases in English, such as “conversant in,” “up-to-date with,” and “abreast of,” but somehow announcing that you’re “au fait” with all the latest developments sounds infinitely more impressive.

  Deborah would have liked a promotion, but there seemed to be only one route to the top, and she’d never been au fait with golfing terminology.

  Auto-da-fé

  act of faith (Portuguese)

  The phrase comes from the Spanish Inquisition and describes a public ceremony, which included a procession, Mass, and sermon, before the sentences of condemned heretics were read out by the grand inquisitor. In English the term is used primarily in art to describe an image of a heretic being burned at the stake, although in fact, the executions didn’t take place until the following day. It can also mean suicide by fire.

  Painting number three is an oil painting depicting an auto-da-fé in Plaza Mayor in Madrid, circa 1683.

  Avalanche

  snow slide (Romansch)

  Romansch, closely related to French, is the least commonly spoken of Switzerland’s four native languages and is thought to have come from the vulgar Latin spoken by the Roman settlers in that area. In the high Swiss Alps, sudden movements of ice and snow are common, and sixteenth-century English-speaking visitors to the region brought the Romansch word for them home. We now use the word figuratively for any overwhelming deluge.

  I’d love to join you for lunch, sweetie, you know I would, but I’m trapped under an avalanche of fan mail—it seems my award-winning juggling act went down rather well.

  B

  Baksheesh

  gift (Persian)

  The most direct English equivalent is “tip,” but “baksheesh” has a much more intricate meaning depending on the context in which it is used. In the Middle East and South Asia, the word originally meant a charitable donation—alms paid to a beggar or an offering to the gods. It is still used imploringly by Arab beggars: “Baksheesh, effendi? ” In modern usage it refers more often to an extra payment to taxi drivers, hoteliers, waiters, and doormen. In the West it has developed somewhat shady undertones and occupies the territory somewhere between a tip and a bribe.

  Why don’t you give him a little something to oil the wheels? I’ve heard a bit of baksheesh goes a long way around here.

  Bandanna

  to tie (Hindi, via Sanskrit)

  The tie-dying technique used to decorate scarves and handkerchiefs in India is called “bandhana.” The anglicized “bandanna” was incorporated into the English language during the days of the British Raj, when these tie-dyed scarves were worn around the necks and waists of English masters. Bandanna has since come to mean any triangular scarf worn round the neck or head, tie-dyed or not, though they’re now more popular with wrestlers and cowboys than the English aristocracy.

  It was rodeo day, and Hoyt wasn’t taking any chances—he’d been up all night sewing his initials onto his lucky bandanna.

  Bazaar

  marketplace (Persian)

  The first bazaars were established in the Middle East around the fourth century, and the word is thought to come from “bahachar ,” which means “the place of prices” in the Middle Persian writing system Pahlavi. Crusaders from Italy got their first introduction to the Middle East in the tenth century and borrowed the word as “bazzara,” and it is probably through this European route that it came to be used in English.

  Oh, Marni, I just love your gem-encrusted sandals! I must have a pair—please don’t tell me you found them in some untraceable bazaar in the depths of Morocco.

  Berserk

  bear shirt (Old Norse)

  In the ninth century the Vikings used the word to describe their ferocious warriors, who wore bearskins instead of armor. “Berserkers” worked themselves into a frenzy before battle—some historians have suggested that they ate hallucinogenic mushrooms to heighten their rage—thus taking on the bear’s bloodthirsty fury. It wasn’t until a thousand years after the Viking invasions that the word appeared in English; Sir Walter Scott was one of the first to put it in print in his 1822 novel The Pirate. We still use it to mean “dangerously violent,” but it can also indicate a much milder angry outburst or any kind of wild, unrestrained behavior.

  Don’t let your father catch you going out like that—he’ll go berserk if he sees the length of your skirt.

  Bête noire

  black beast (French)

  Think of the person or thing that you most loathe and detest—he, she, or it is your very own “bête noire.” The term was originally reserved for mortal enemies or the stuff of your most terrifying nightmares—the sorts of things you might find in Room 101 in George Orwell’s 1984. But in recent times it has been diluted to mean any person or thing that you find personally troublesome or irritating, like a more universally applicable version of “pet hate.” It’s also a common way of referring to a sports team’s biggest rival.

  For two and a half hours Melissa kept her eyes firmly glued to her magazine, she liked to relax while she had her highlights done—chatty hairdressers were her bête noire.

  Bijou

  jewel (French)

  The French term comes from the Breton word “bizou,” which means “ring for the finger.” By the mid-sixteenth century, the French had replaced the “z” with a “j” and adopted it for any small gem or jewel, and by the late seventeenth century it had hopped across the Channel. In English its meaning has expanded still further to cover any exquisite and stylish little thing; today we use it to describe everything from jewels and restaurants to boutiques, hotels, and even cars.

  Now, this flat is simply fantastic; less discerning buyers might say it’s on the shabby side, but personally I think it’s wonderfully bijou.

  Bimbo

  baby boy (Italian, from “bambino”)

  A bimbo is a clueless young woman who has plenty of sex appeal but not much in the brains department. Interestingly, the word is actually a contraction of the Italian for baby boy, “bambino,” rather than the feminine version, “bambina”; early English usage was reserved for brainless men, but it quickly became more common as a description of a vacuous but pretty female. In the United States, the UK, and Canada, the term can also infer a rampant sexual appetite. A jealous wife might use it to refer to a woman who she thinks is trying to seduce her husband.

  I’m sorry, Simon, we’ll have to leave. I can’t sit here with that bimbo batting her eyelashes at you.

  Blasé

  indifferent (French)

  This word invokes a world-weary disinterest or nonchalance that comes about through overexposure or over-indulgence. “Blaser” means to “satiate” and may have come to French via the Middle Dutch word “blasen”—to “blow up” or “swell.” So someone who is “blasé” about something has had such a fill of it that he or she feels bloated and loses interest in it completely.

  By the time she reached the eighth gallery, Matilda was feeling blasé about the Old Masters and was much more interested in finding the coffee shop.