When our first child was born and we sent out the email announcing his name, the result was mixed. “Love it” screamed some. “Great name,” enthused others, in a rather more sedate manner. Some friends chose not to comment at all.
My in-laws, possibly nervous of mispronunciation, elected to refer to him as “the baby” for about the first week of his life. His name is Atticus, which we picked because To Kill A Mockingbird is one of my favourite books, and he was born in America, so it felt appropriate.
Two years later, his brother, Oswald, came along. “I didn’t want to know if you’d had a girl or a boy — all I wanted to know was what the name would be,” one friend confided.
Naming your child is a huge decision — it says as much about you as it does about your child (after all, in just a few short years, I appear to have lost my own name and become “Atticus’s Mum”). And we all want to show how unique and creative we are.
According to a new study by Goldman Sachs, the investment bank, modern parents have caused the “death” of traditional names such as Michael and James, as they seek to boost their sense of “brand individuality” with an unusual moniker. Which means bye Michael and James and hello Rex, Tallulah and Templeton.
A quick flick through The Daily Telegraph’s birth announcements proves the theory. Clemency Lily, a sister for Ottilie. Clementine. Xanthe. Alba. Arlo. There are the babies named after the place of birth/conception (Brooklyn Beckham being the most obvious example) and those who sound like miniature grandfathers: Alfred, Wilfred and Albert.
Florally named offspring
Want to be thought of as a cool, creative type? Go for something short and edgy, preferably with an animal twist, such as Fox, or Tiger. Pretensions towards a classical education? A Greek or Roman name should do the trick. I have scores of friends with Biblically named children, from Noah to Jacob (Noah was the most popular boy’s name in the US last year), and many more with the kind of florally named offspring (Violet, Daisy and Rose) that, 100 years ago, would have marked them out as from the “servant classes”.
Nobody wants their child to be known by the first letter of their surname at school any more (I was always Lucy D, as there were inevitably at least two other Lucys). Of course it is possible to take this a step too far. These are actual names foisted upon children: Superman; Bad Boy; Abstinence; and ironically (although probably not intentionally so) I’munique. Orgasm is another. And, hilariously/bafflingly: Number 16 Bus Shelter (what?!).
Thankfully in some cases, the authorities step in with a firm “no”. In 2008, a couple in New Zealand who named their daughter Talula Does the Hula From Hawaii were ordered to change it after a judge ruled that it risked making her the target of abuse and ridicule, while the Danes rejected an attempt from parents to call their son [expletive].
In China, the name @ was deemed unsuitable. The Swedes are among the most robust when rejecting names: past failed attempts have included Metallica, Ikea and Brfxxccxxmnpcccclll mmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116 (not somebody just leaning on the keyboard — it is apparently pronounced “Albin”).
They let a Google through, though. Without subjecting your child to humiliation, what’s a parent to do? However outlandish the name you pick, chances are that you will not be alone — I met another Atticus at the swimming pool the other day, which put paid to my smug middle-class sense of individuality.
The answer, surely, is a return to the “normal” name. After all, when did you last hear of a baby named Geoff? Or Jane? Or even John? In fact, I’m thinking of starting a new petition: the “Bring Back Malcolm” campaign. Who’s with me?
— The Telegraph Group Limited, London 2015
