Tag Archives: philtrum

philtre

Kendy looked at her phone and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, no.” She swiped left on the photo in her dating app.

Janille, who was sitting beside her, looked over. “What was it?”

“Felt fedora.”

“You don’t like hat guys?”

“That is an automatic fail. I’d set up a filter if I could.”

“Huh,” Janille said. “I’m kind of a sucker for a feutre, myself.”

“A what?” Kendy was used to Janille slipping French in at random moments, but that didn’t mean she’d just let it slide past.

“Felt hat. It’s one of my favourite features. Sets my heart aflutter.”

“For a moment there I thought you said ‘foutre’.”

“No need to be filthy. For me a feutre is a philtre.”

“A filter in, apparently.”

“No,” Janille said. “Not filter, as in coffee. Philtre, as in love potion.” She typed the word into her phone and showed Kendy.

Kendy looked at it. “I mean, filter coffee is my love potion, so it still sounds the same to me. But of course French would have a special word for a love potion.”

“It’s a word in English too!” Janille typed the word into her Merriam-Webster app. It said “chiefly British spelling of PHILTER.” She snorted as a Canadian would (“chiefly British!”) and tapped through to philter; it rewarded her with the definitions “a potion credited with magical power” and “a potion, drug, or charm held to have the power to arouse sexual passion.” She held up the phone for Kendy to see.

“Huh,” Kendy said. “So is it because the potion is filtered?”

“They’re not even related,” Janille said. “This philtre is spelled with a ph because it’s from the Greek philos, which refers to love. As in bibliophile. Lover of books. Or logophile. Lover of words.”

“I can think of another -phile that felt fedora wearers might be,” Kendra said, half aside.

“Well, maybe if they’re from Philadelphia,” Janille said with a giggle.

“Say,” Kendy said, “do you think that fedora and felt are related?”

“I know they’re not!” Janille said. “The fedora is named after a heroine in a play—”

“Wait, that was where we also got Svengali, right?”

“No! But great connection. Svengali comes from the book and play Trilby, which also gave us a hat named after a heroine. In this case, though, Fedora is the Russian version of Theodora, which means ‘gift of god’.”

“So no felt.”

“No felt, no feutre. But felt and feutre both have the same Germanic root, and that root also came to Latin as filtrum, which meant ‘felt’ but also meant the kind of cloth that you use a sieve. And from that we get our word filter.” She glanced over at Kendy’s phone, which was displaying another photo on the dating app. “Meanwhile, philtrum with a ph – from the same source as philtre with a ph – is the name for the groove between the nose and the upper lip.” She pointed at the distinct groove on the face of the fellow on screen.

“Wow,” Kendy said. She looked at her phone for a moment and swiped left. “Huh. You sure know a lot about words.” She looked at Janille again. “No wonder you like guys with fedoras.”

Janille winced. “I felt that.”

philtrum

If you’ve read my note on aglet, you know already that this is a word for something that needs a name but doesn’t have it, but actually does. It’s something you see every day and might just occasionally wonder what to call. Don’t you just love those? Ha. As in they get up your nose.

Looking at this word, you can see classical origins – or perhaps pseudo-classical, in the mode of the Victorian/Edwardian era fads for inventions and fancies such as phlogiston and names such as Phineas. That ph bespeaks a Greek origin, probably brought down to us by way of Latin. And, come to think of it, that whole phil looks phamiliar – excuse me, familiar. Perhaps related to the Greek philos “love”, as in philosophy “love of wisdom”, Philadelphia “place of brotherly love”, and Philip “person with a lip shaped like the letter phi (φ)” – sorry, no, it’s from Philippos “horse lover”.

On the other hand, it also makes me think of plectrum, which is a fancy word for pick as in guitar pick – that triangular thing you use to provoke strings to vibrate. If music be the food, of love, pick on! And if it’s really groovy, take your pick.

Take your pick and do what? Or take your pick of what? How about taking your pick of people with upper lips with grooves in them? Well, that’s kind of everybody, isn’t it… though some people’s grooves are more pronounced than others. I tend to think of Roland Orzabal of Tears for Fears (see www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0TYun-Nq1Q for a version of the “Head Over Heels” video with lyrics describing the action – a digression but really funny), though his isn’t really abnormally pronounced; I did know a few other guitar pickers around that time who looked as though they had vertical equal signs under their noses. It always seemed kind of self-important to me, which is in some sense the opposite of groovy.

Anyway, yes, where I’m going with this is that the groove in your upper lip – anyone’s upper lip (except some with fetal alcohol syndrome) – coming down from the nose is called the philtrum. Some legends say it’s where an angel touches a baby’s lip before birth. But others relate it to Aphrodite (you will see the ph balance going up here, and that’s not baseless). Philtrum is a Latin word meaning not only “groove in the upper lip” but also “love potion” – taken from the Greek philtron, which has the same two meanings. The “love potion” meaning is now normally spelled philtre – although, frankly, love potions are more likely to bear the legend unfiltered these days. And then you can nose them, wafting the scent up past your philtrum. And feel groovy (see www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBQxG0Z72qM for that musical reference – though neither Simon nor Garfunkel has a pronounced philtrum).