I’m back with another word.
Coterie.
It is a noun. And the pronunciation looks like this: KOH -tuh-ree
Now, whenever I see this word, I simultaneously see one of those “dance hall” women from the 1800s. The kind with all the ruffles under their dresses. And, when they lift up their dresses to kick their feet up high, as they are dancing on the bar, you can see the white ruffles underneath. That — in my mind — is a coterie. Sort of like a petticoat, but specifically for dance hall babes.
Well. That’s not what it means at all.
A “coterie” refers to an intimate and often exclusive group of people with a unifying common interest or purpose.
Like this. “The Congressman arrived at the meeting with a coterie of advisors.”
As I understand it, a coterie today is, in essence, just like a clique. Or a little clan, perhaps. They are a tight-knit group sharing interests in common. Like a little coterie of cheerleaders.
But that wasn’t always the case.
Historically, coteries hung around agricultural fields. But not like in a garden party kind of way. You see. In medieval France, coterie referred to a group of feudal peasants who, together, held a parcel of land. That word, coterie, comes from the Old French word for a singular peasant, cotier).
Anyway. The original definition sort of morphed over time and inspired later French speakers to use coterie more broadly. They began applying it to other kinds of clubs and societies.
By the time the word began appearing in English texts in the early 1700s, its meaning had been extended to refer to any circle of people “who spent a great deal of time together, who shared the same basic attitudes, and who held a passion for some particular topic.”
These days, it tends also to imply a bit of exclusivity. So, like if you’re thinking of joining your local coterie, you may need to learn the secret handshake or something.
But none of this really matters to me.
I still see the white ruffles under the dance hall girls’ dresses.
And then I hear the whooping and hollering and catcalls from the gun-slinging audience.
That is how words go sometimes. Their parallel meanings. In all of our minds.
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“The meaning of things lies not in the things themselves, but in our attitude towards them.” — Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
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“Language is the dress of thought.” — Samuel Johnson
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“The meaning of a word is its use in the language.” — Ludwig Wittgenstein
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Those white ruffles on dancing girls
