It was overhearing the young mother chastising her small daughter at the Coles checkout the other day that persuaded Robert Drewe a roundup of contemporary Australian kids’ names was well overdue.
“Cocaine, don’t touch those lollies!”
That’s what I heard. I guess she probably spelled the name ‘Kokayne’, like those creative spellers who opt for Ondray, Antwonet, Harrysyn, Jaxxon, Mikkaylah, Kristapha, Dannyl, Exavier and Abbergale for their new-borns’ names. And maybe the child had an addictive personality. But clearly, battle lines have been drawn in Australian baby-naming.
For all the private-school Olivers and Emilys, the Thomases and Sophies, and the Royalty-approved choices like Charlotte, George, William, Harry, Charles, Andrew and Kate, there are Australian babies being proudly named after alcohol (Kahlua, Bailey, Tia Maria, Jack Daniel, Bacardee, Shiraz, Chardonnay); cars (Holden, Falcon, Mersaydees, Porscha, Monaro-Brock, Shevrolay, Jaguar); and the weather (Stormie, Tempest, Sunnie, Sunshine, Rainy).
If grog, climate and V8s influenced some of last year’s baby names, parents really pulled out the stops this year.
In 2015 there were small Aussie humans lucky enough to be named after face cream (Nivea), fabric (Denim), gasbag airships (Zeppelin), menstrual cups (JuJu), skaters and surfers’ apparel (Matix), geography (Zealand) and, most popularly, after video-game, film and TV characters (Quorra, Finnick, Kutty, Zuly, Viggo, Berk, Zeek, Simber, Dagon, Blayde and Neo).
There is now a baby girl who owes her name to an acronym beloved of reckless teenagers, Yolo (“You Only Live Once”); a boy called Onix, named after both a metadata format and a cartoon Pokemon character whose body is made of rocks; and another little chap faces life with the name of Braven, after a brand of outdoor wireless Bluetooth speakers.
Welcome to the big, wide world to little Moody as well, and to Posey, Dodge, Patch, Judge, Guru, Jhase, Chynn’nah-Bloo, Heavenleigh, Holiday, Tymber, Anthem, Koy, Rexx, Violina, Gitty, Tiger, Monet and Merci. Greetings, Abcde. (Yes, seriously, that’s A.B.C.D.E.)
Remember when we used to scoff at loopy American kids’ names? We’re catching up pretty fast but perhaps we still have a little way to go to match some names that appeared on the US Social Security register in 2014.
The infant boys called Bullet/Bullit/Bulut, Dagger and Renegade seem to have a grim destiny already charted for them, but Legendary could go either way.
Most American parents are nothing if not optimistic though, at least five last year naming their children Billion, as well as several thinking Royaltee, Princecharles, Kinganthony and Kingmichael might prove advantageous. On the other hand, what possessed the parents of Common, Sadman and Lay?
Foes of creative name-spelling might grind their teeth to learn of the appearance of young Sicilee, Paree, Londynne, Franswah, Mill-Ann and Jerzei. And when she grows up, Payshance, along with Payzley, Kwinn and Vertyu, might hate her parents a little bit more every time she has to spell her name to someone.
These lapses of judgement and taste are blamed partly on the internet and the ludicrous names that, for some possibly competitive reason, celebrities feel bound to select. The parents of Apple, North West, Princess Tiaamii, Sage Moonblood, Kal-El, Kyd, Egypt, Pilot Inspektor, Audio Science, etc. have a lot to answer for.
Anyway, all this naming nonsense has caused a reaction. It’s called Baby-Name Remorse and (not unlike Tattoo Remorse) it’s on the rise. Ten per cent of American mothers say they’ve considered changing their baby’s name. Australian and English figures are hard to come by (each State differs here) but in Scotland, in 2009 alone, 3470 babies had their names changed when their parents had second thoughts.
It’s evident that a surge in numbers occurs after the age of 18, indicating that many children change their name from Shevrolay to Susan, from Guru to Graham, the minute they no longer need parental consent.
In most States a parent can change their child’s given name within 12 months of birth if the baby was born there. After 12 months, or if the baby was born elsewhere, its name can be changed after applying to the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages.
So if you’re already tiring of little Cointreau’s name and reckon Mojito or Pina Collada — something cooler and more summery — would suit her better; or you’ve ditched the old Monaro for a Hyundai Santa Fe SUV; or perhaps decided Hindenburg has a certain proud ring to it, off you go to the Registrar. These names, and plenty of others like them, are still on offer.
And in three or four years young Zeppelin and Kokayne and Chynn’nah-Bloo and the others will face an Australian school playground for the first time, with another 12 years ahead of them, and then the workplace. Best of luck, kids.
Robert Drewe’s latest book, The Beach, an Australian Passion, has just been published by the National Library of Australia and is available here: the-beach-an-australian-passion His other recent books The Local Wildlife and Swimming to the Moon are on sale here: penguin.com.au
