On Winston, Karen and Khaleesi

How names stopped being universal

While I briefly toyed with inflicting ‘Athelstan’ on my son, one name we both considered more seriously was Winston. During my wife’s first pregnancy we read that Billie Piper had given her son that name and wondered if it was due a comeback. We were both open to the idea, I consider Churchill a great hero, but out popped a girl, and by the time we had a son five years later we’d both cooled on Winston.

Besides which, Billie Piper and her then husband Laurence Fox didn’t start a trend with the name. I’m reminded of President Eisenhower’s comments to Peregrine Worsthorne when the young English reporter told him that the first Mayflower child born on American soil had also been a Peregrine: ‘Well, sonny, that name sure didn’t catch on.’ 

Winston was never a common name but the political implications will probably deter more people from reviving it. Likewise, Nigel is now extinct in Britain, and the name is surely too right-coded to come back. It’s also one of those names, like Ian, which today seems bizarrely unsuited to a baby. Gary has likewise disappeared in Britain, having originally grown in popularity due to Hollywood screen star Gary Cooper; I’m not sure why it declined, but I imagine that Gary Glitter probably didn’t help. In the US, Karen and Chad have recently died out, presumably because both come with too much baggage, and Alexa has also gone out of fashion, most likely because of Amazon.

In Britain there are no more Garys or Nigels, but in 2022 there were 28 newborns called Khaleesi, 26 Theons and 5 Daenerys, among the many Game of Thrones-inspired names. While Khaleesi means ‘queen’ in Dothraki, Theon is at least ancient Greek so any child embarrassed by the name can claim his parents had a great interest in the classics.

I’m too conservative to opt for something as unusual as Winston, let alone Khaleesi, but I am going against the grain, since the past few decades have been marked by four great naming trends: a move towards greater variety, a decline in Christian influence, an increase in non-western names and, perhaps most pronounced of all, more marked class distinctions.

At the start of 20th century, most given names came either from the Bible or from Greek, Roman or Germanic traditions; children were named after saints, family members or historical heroes. As recently as 1900, one in four girls in Britain were named Mary; by 2008 Mary was only the 183^rd most popular girl’s name in England and Wales (below three older variants, the Latin Maria and the Arabic/Aramaic Maryam and Mariam) and just ahead of Keeley, Honey, Alesha and Rhianna.

In contrast, Mohammed, if one counts all its various spellings, is the most popular name for boys in Britain. Although across cultures parents tend to be more conservative with boys’ than girls’ names, Muslim parents are especially so when it comes to honouring their prophet, although Mohammed/Muhammed/Mohammad isn’t alone. In 2022 Ibrahim entered the top 100, along with Leon, Elias, Musa and Axel.

A century ago it was hard to tell a person’s background from their name, with John, Henry or Thomas being fairly universal. Today, for the first time in nine centuries, an Englishman’s social status is often identifiable simply by what their parents called them.

After the war, it became popular for working-class families to give daughters French names like Michelle or Anne-Marie, while Celtic monikers like Kieran and Kevin were also socially distinctive. But working-class names have since become far more diverse.

In Britain names such as Ashleigh, Britney, Chantelle, Chelsie, Callum, Jordan, Kayleigh, Keeley, Leigh, Mia, Paige and Troy mark a child’s social background, with a few exceptions. More unusually, there are children called Izacc, Hemi, Henderson, Excellence, Alfie-J, Kylo, Kyrone, Colbie, Saint, L, Artjom and Cobain.

This might seem counterproductive for parents hoping their children get on in life, the subject of a chapter of Freakonomics devoted to the phenomenon of ‘ghetto names’ in the United States. While these names represent a sense of in-group cohesion and pride, their outcomes are found clearly in salary data, which shows that women named Jill and Lynn earn about $20,000 more than women named Sierra and Breanna, and Jims and Toms have a similar advantage over men called ‘Dillon’ or ‘Johnathan’.

These naming patterns can become quite extreme. A while back, New Zealand couple Pat and Sheena Wheaton were frustrated in their attempts to call their son 4Real – inspired by their first view of the scan, when they knew the baby was ‘for real’. Unfortunately, officials at the Registrar of Births, Deaths and Marriages decided that ‘4Real’ is not a real name, and the Wheatons, begrudgingly, agreed to choose a different one – Superman. Naming patterns are more diverse in the English-speaking world in part because many continental countries have a register of approved names, while in Britain anything goes.

The Wheatons had argued that celebrities are given greater leeway when it comes to wacky names, and it is true that celebrities have led the way. Frank Zappa and David Bowie started the modern trend by calling their respective daughter and son Moon Unit Zappa and Zowie Bowie. The Beckhams went for the unusual Brooklyn and Romeo. Bruce Willis and Demi Moore chose ‘Rumer’, Angelina Jolie came up with Maddox for her adopted son, and Michael Jackson’s brother Jermaine chose ‘Jermajesty’.

Paula Yates had daughters called Fifi-Trixibelle and Tiger Lily Heavenly Hirani, while Jamie Oliver’s five children include Petal Blossom Rainbow, Buddy Bear Maurice and River Rocket Blue Dallas. Glamour model Katie Price named one daughter Princess Tiaamii.

Unusual names are not new, the Puritans being the first to go off-piste on this matter. At the start of Elizabeth I’s reign, 70% of all men were named John, Thomas, William, Richard or Robert. Then the Geneva Bible came along, and suddenly there were Englishmen called Be-courteous Cole, Safely-on-high Snat and Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith White (all real people from Sussex).

Then there was the 17^th-century fire insurance pioneer and early free market thinker Nicholas Barbon, whose middle name was If-Jesus-Christ-Had-Not-Died-For-Thee-Thou-Hadst-Been-Damned. His father was Praise-God Barebone, the fanatical Fifth Monarchist who gave his name to Barebone’s Parliament.

This was taken to extremes in New England, where Congregationalists often shut their eyes and picked words from the Bible at random, lumbering their children with such names as Notwithstanding Griswold, Maybe Barnes and Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin Pond.

Virtue names like Chastity and Faith did not thrive outside of America, with the exception of Grace, and Australian comedian Adam Hills once suggested that Aussie schools would be full of boys called ‘Openingbatsman’ if they had followed suit.

The 19th century brought something of a revival of Anglo-Saxon or Anglo-Danish names like Alfred, Harold and Ethel, the latter short for Etheldreda, a 7^th century saint who became the patron of throat complaints; although Etheldreda has not exactly caught on, its pet name Audrey is quite common, especially in France. But there were occasional historical anomalies - ‘Brooklyn’ and ‘Princess’ were both around in Victorian England. 

While Puritans led the way, perhaps the biggest driver of unusual names today is the decline of religion, which has resulted in a desire for more individuality. Price, for example, chose Princess Tiaamii specifically because it made her sound more ‘exotic’ and ‘different’. 

This partly explains why names are often spelled in unusual ways. Why call a child Magic when ‘Magick’ will make her stand out? Why opt for the relatively common Mercedes when you can choose Mercydeez? Likewise with Chelsie, Chelseigh, Cortnee, Cortnie and Soozie and K'tee and Kloe, all real names registered in Britain in the 21^st century.

During the height of the public concern over teen pregnancy, back in 2005, three Barnsley sisters aged 12-16 all gave birth within months of each other, naming their offspring T-Jay, Lita and Amani. Mixed with the tabloid horror at their condition there was a sense of bewilderment, since surely she meant Armani?

Indeed, it’s not unusual for parents to name their children after brands: in the Noughties there were at least 300 Armanis born in the United States, as well as a handful of L’Oreals, and at least two boys called ESPN, after the sports channel. Mercedes, Abercrombie, Disney, Lexus and even Ikea have all appeared in England in recent years.

Another trend is toward diminutives like Ollie or Harry, although that is not entirely new. Jack was originally short for James – Jacques in French – but also John, while Bella is a diminutive of Isabella, which is itself a diminutive of Elizabeth. 

Other trends come and go. Old Testament names came back into fashion around the turn of the century, with Joshua proving especially popular in the 1990s, making Josh a very stereotypically 30-something name. Jacob and Noah both entered the top 20 in the 2000s with even Caleb making the top 100. Victorian names had a mini-revival in the 2000s with Alfred, Arthur and Florence all coming back into fashion, while Lily Allen named her daughter Ethel Mary. 

This didn’t take off, but celebrities are known to have a huge influence on baby name patterns. Both Dorothea and Marjorie have seen an uptick thanks to the influence of Taylor Swift, but these can also come from less likely sources. It is believed that ‘Joseph’ entered the top ten in 1907 largely thanks to the Birmingham politician Joseph Chamberlain. 

Yet Winston never took off, despite the status of the wartime leader; even John Winston Lennon, born during the intense patriotism of the Blitz, changed his middle name to Ono after his second marriage. Winston fell out of fashion after the war as quickly as Adolf, and one occasionally meets Latin Americans called Adolfo. (Having just checked, I have three subscribers called Adolf or Adolfo, and just one Winston).

Kevin took off among French working-class parents largely thanks to the popularity of Kevin Costner and one of the Backstreet Boys. But France’s Kevins - something of a national joke – also show the perils of names that age quickly. Until the 1960s, Pierre, Jean and Michel consistently dominated in France, but since then each decade has shown a rapid turnaround, making it pretty easy to age a French person just by their email: a Christophe, Sandrine and Nathalie is most likely in their 50s, Nicolas, Julien, Aurelie and Emilie will probably be in their 30s or 40s, and Gabriel, Lucas and Jade in their teens. In Britain, three of the top 30 girls names of 2001 – Jade, Shannon and Courtney – had completely fallen out of the top 100 by the end of the decade.

My preference for conventional names is not because I’m a staid, conventional conservative terrified of change, although that is obviously true. As well as lumbering them with a name that ages quickly, I also feel that more traditional names give children greater choice in choosing their own destiny. An Elizabeth, for example, can become Liz, Bess, Betty, Beth, Bella or a dozen other variations; call them ‘Apple’ or ‘Trixie Bell’ and that’s sort of it for life. And I suppose, alas, the same is true of dear Winston - although I rather regret my lack of courage in honouring the great man.