As a little kid, Paula's the kind of girl who wants to play "school" — with real assignments and assigned seating. It's annoying, but you do it because her house has really good snacks. In high school, she's that one girl who throws actual dinner parties, where you're supposed to dress up. She won't host the after-prom party — she's not really that cool — but she might have everyone over beforehand to take pictures and eat little cheese sticks. Later, she'll grow up into the kind of mom who's always coming in while your friends are watching a movie to serve some nut balls that she just made — or some equally embarrassing treat. You love her, of course, but sometimes she does slightly off-the-wall things, like knitting the dog a sweater that goes on the back half instead of the front, or slipping a handful of paper clips into your lunchbox.

I think my perception that Paula is a mom name comes from its dwindling popularity — it was riding high in the fifties and sixties, never dipping below #54 nationwide, but by the eighties it had dropped precipitously to #236, and now it languishes at #681. So while a few little Paulas were born last year, Paula's still more likely to be a baby boomer than a baby. And judging by famous Paulas, she's likely to be a little odd.

Paula Deen seems like the kind of mom everybody loves — she makes fried Twinkies, after all. But I can kind of see her getting carried away and frying up, say, some Chex Mix or a Ziploc bag. Paula Jones has two kids, who may or may not be embarrassed about her boxing match with Tonya Harding. Comic Paula Poundstone's mom issues actually crossed the line into downright disturbing, but she's apparently incorporated her child endangerment arrest into her act, so she seems to have come to terms with it. And of course, the premier Paula is Paula Abdul, the woman Rosie O'Donnell once called "erratic." Abdul has struggled with eating disorders and painkillers in the past, and so her antics always carry a worrisome edge. Still, it's hard not to have affection for someone who once broke her nose trying to "avoid tripping over her pet chihuahua." I bet that chihuahua was rocking a back-half sweater.

According to an oddly specific survey by a British vodka maker, office workers think people named Sarah, Becky and Emma are the biggest "Christmas party girls." Paula might not be the one drunkenly making out under the mistletoe (although, actually, does anyone do this? Outside of a commercial, I mean). However, she probably does throw a mean Christmas party — as long as you stay away from the nut balls.

Paula [Baby Name Wizards]
Brits: Sarah, Chris Wildest Party Names [UPI.com]
Paula [Wikipedia]

Earlier: O Is For Olivia: Precocious, Passionate, & Up For A Lesbian Cruise
N Is For Natasha, A Femme Fatale
M Is For Michelle, An Elegant Mystery
L Is For Lisa, Whose Looks Are Deceiving
K Is For Kate, Who Kicks Ass, Takes Names
J Is For Jennifer, The Vanilla Of Names
I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

Were any Olivias not precocious little girls? Partly I'm informed by Little Miss Sunshine's Olive here, but partly I can't think of the name Olivia without picturing a nine-year-old in patent leather shoes eating a butterscotch sundae and showing off her Latin skills. But not in an annoying way. Sure, some Olivias may be hyper-managed children — the name was #6 in the nation last year, and some of those girls had to be born to asshole kneepad parents. Still, I believe Olivias can transcend even the most yuppified upbringing, putting on amateur plays and winning science fairs and generally spouting beyond-their-years wisdom in a way that charms you and doesn't piss you off.

Some prodigies founder later in life, but not our Olivia. Sure, she has her share of problems. I see Olivia as a passionate sort, who loves hard and takes breakups harder, and who sometimes falls for unsuitable men or women. But she always rallies, in part because the qualities that made her adorable in childhood continue to attract a wide circle of friends. One or more of these friends may be secretly in love with her.

Several sources claim Shakespeare coined the name Olivia in Twelfth Night. I'm skeptical of this, and I also think the cross-dressing Viola is the more interesting female role in that play. But Helena Bonham-Carter played Olivia in the movie version of Twelfth Night, which lends the name some reflected awesome. Olivia's also a multi-talented fictional pig, a child prodigy in porcine form. But of course the Olivia par excellence is Olivia Benson, Mariska Hargitay's character on Law & Order: SVU.

Hargitay's Olivia has a troubled past that continues to haunt her, and there is the suggestion that her commitment to her job precludes close relationships (except with her partner, Elliot Stabler, with whom she maintains a sexual tension just below Mulder-and-Scully levels). But none of this prevents Olivia from feats of badassery that would probably get a real cop fired (would any characters on SVU still have a job with the real NYPD at this point?) but that make her one of the most compelling characters on TV. And unlike 30 Rock's Liz Lemon, she's a hot woman over 35 who's actually portrayed as being hot, not frumpy or desperate or weird.

Apparently some fans see sexual sparks between Olivia Benson and Assistant District Attorney Alex Cabot (played by Stephanie March, who also appeared on 30 Rock when she went on an ill-fated blind date with Liz). Hardcore Babylon 5 fans (I know you're out there) will recognize a previous model for this hinted-at-but-never-stated relationship in the one between Susan Ivanova and Talia Winters. If Olivia and Alex ever got together for real — or if they wanted to steal away for a secret weekend tryst — they could take a trip with Olivia Lesbian Travel, "the leader in lesbian cruises and resort vacations." Olivia Travel's website says, "we charter the whole ship, or buy out the whole resort, then fill it with women!" Which, if they fill it with Olivias, sounds like a pretty sweet vacation.

Images via Comcast, Amazon, Emsifoppicus, Glassford Hill Girl.

Olivia [Wikipedia]
Olivia [Baby Name Wizards]

Earlier: N Is For Natasha, A Femme Fatale
M Is For Michelle, An Elegant Mystery
L Is For Lisa, Whose Looks Are Deceiving
K Is For Kate, Who Kicks Ass, Takes Names
J Is For Jennifer, The Vanilla Of Names
I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

Like Kate, it's hard to imagine Natasha in high school. In my image of her, she's wearing high heels and a pencil skirt, sitting at an outdoor café, drinking and espresso and smoking a cigarette while she waits to give you sensitive information. Or to get such information from you, while making you think she's giving it. If Natasha hands you a briefcase, I can pretty much guarantee that it contains not the documents you paid a million Swiss francs for, but a single rose and a handwritten note that says, "Better luck next time." That's just how she rolls.

Even if she's not actually a spy, Natasha has a cool beauty and natural reserve that would make her a natural for spy movies. You've never been to her apartment; you don't even know where it is. Her boyfriend is some kind of financier, but you rarely see them out together. Her friends are other enviably cool women, possibly of international extraction. Some of them may be named Isabel. Natasha doesn't often show anger — or any emotion, except maybe mild amusement — but people who get on her bad side have a way of getting audited, or worse.

Of course, the quintessential Natasha is Natasha Fatale of Rocky & Bullwinkle fame. This villainess from the nation of Pottsylvania may have been a little silly, but with her stilettos and strapless dress, she definitely looks the part. So, in their own way, do actresses Natasha Henstridge and Natascha McElhone, and model Natasha Poly. Sasha Obama's name is also short for Natasha, and she seems too adorable to be a femme fatale. But she's only eight, so maybe it's too early to tell.

From a peak of #72 in the eighties, Natasha has tumbled all the way down to #413 in US popularity. Far more popular — at #13 in 2008 — is its less threatening cousin, Natalie. Both names derive from the Latin dies natalis, or birth day, referring to the birth of Christ. But watch out — if you cross Natasha, it might just be your death day.

Natasha [Wikipedia]
Natasha [The Baby Name Wizard]

Earlier: M Is For Michelle, An Elegant Mystery
L Is For Lisa, Whose Looks Are Deceiving
K Is For Kate, Who Kicks Ass, Takes Names
J Is For Jennifer, The Vanilla Of Names
I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

Michelle is a variant of Michael, which apparently means "Who is like God?" And while Michelles don't necessarily breathe life into clay, they can certainly take your breath away. My image of Michelle is stylish and classy — she's tall and cool and well-dressed and she wears really nice earrings. Her hair's usually in some kind of updo, and she knows how to pull off nude lipstick. But Michelle's also the kind of girl who looks great no matter what she wears. I think of Michelle as a really eighties name, and I think of its bearer as somehow looking glamorous even while wearing leg warmers and a pound of hairspray.

But enough about Michelle's looks — what's she like on the inside? This is a tougher question, because I think of Michelles as a little unknowable. They're the kind of girls might not get asked out a lot, because they don't come off as "approachable." When you go to their houses — maybe for a study session or a very polite birthday party with parents present — you discover that their bedrooms are perfectly clean and reveal almost nothing about their personalities. A pink bedspread, perhaps an old American Girl doll smiling wanly, but nothing that gives you a peek into Michelle's inner life. Michelle's a girl to be admired from afar, because so few manage to get close.

Michelle Obama, with her hula-hooping skills and willingness to get her hands dirty, is a bit more fun and down to earth than my image of Michelle. But she's got the elegance thing down. So does the ethereally beautiful Michelle Yeoh. And Michelle Williams, pretty private in the wake of Heath Ledger's death, seems a bit unknowable despite her sweet smile. But the true, quintessential Michelle is obviously Michelle Pfeiffer. With her cool, feline (figuratively and literally) beauty, she's the essence of stylish Michelleness. And despite her popularity, she's never really been America's sweetheart — she's not one of those celebrities we feel we know. Perhaps it's because her heyday came before the ubiquity of online gossip, but I'm betting it has something to do with her name.

Like Michelle Pfeiffer, the name Michelle was big in the eighties — but not as big as it was in the seventies, when it peaked at #4 in the nation. It's still doing okay, but at #103, its glory days are clearly over. Maybe uncertain times call for warmer, homier names — and with Michelle Obama's popularity reportedly falling, the trend might not reverse anytime soon. But this waning hipness is unlikely to tarnish Michelle's luster — she looks good in anything, including her name.

Michelle [Wikipedia]
Michelle [Baby Name Wizard]

Earlier: L Is For Lisa, Whose Looks Are Deceiving
K Is For Kate, Who Kicks Ass, Takes Names
J Is For Jennifer, The Vanilla Of Names
I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

It's partly the sound of the name — that soft l, that sibilant s — that makes Lisa sound kind of ditsy and insubstantial. And it's partly the association with Lisa Frank that makes me think of Lisas as obsessed with pink and unicorns and not much else. To me, Lisa is a bit of an airhead name. She's a hot girl, and she puts a lot of effort into her hotness — practicing her hair flip, applying and reapplying her mascara in homeroom. As a result, she doesn't have a lot of time for other pursuits — like, say, reading. She chews gum, she knows a lot about TV, she has a Valley-girl accent no matter where she's from. She definitely dots her i's with hearts.

But a quick look at famous Lisas blows my Lisa prejudices right out of the water. We have, for instance, journalist Lisa Ling, whose impassioned pleas for the release of her sister Laura from North Korea were anything but airheaded. There's Lisa Leslie, the first woman to dunk in the WNBA, who's been outspoken about girls and sports. Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes of TLC — who used to wear a condom over her left eye to promote safe sex — had her problems, but ditsiness wasn't one of them. And, of course, one of pop culture's most famous Lisas is Lisa Simpson, the brains and conscience of her entire family.

So where did my Lisa stereotypes come from? I do think a lot of the blame falls on the ever-popular purveyor of rainbow-colored school supplies, but just because something is rainbow doesn't mean it's dumb. In fact, I may just be buying into the damaging assumption that only a certain kind of girl likes makeup or pretty things — one Lisa Leslie herself has actually challenged. More than anything, I think I'm remembering girls I went to school with in the 80s and 90s, when Lisa was still a pretty popular name (it slipped from #31 in America to #118 during that time). These Lisas knew their way around the eye shadow and a blow dryer back when I was still using butterfly clips to keep my hair out of my eyes, and I think I assumed that beauty maintenance crowded everything else out of their skulls. But maybe I was wrong.

I still think Lisa's a name with lip gloss all over it — note that Lisa Ling always appeared perfectly coiffed, and that Lisa Leslie has worked as a model. But makeup does not an airhead make. Lisa Simpson once said, "beneath my goody two shoes lie some very dark socks," and beneath the name's highly buffed exterior frequently lies some serious badassery and wit. Lisas of the world, I owe you an apology.

Lisa [Wikipedia]
Lisa [The Baby Name Wizards]

Earlier: K Is For Kate, Who Kicks Ass, Takes Names
J Is For Jennifer, The Vanilla Of Names
I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

I've always liked the name Kate. It has a take-no-prisoners shortness and efficiency — I envision Kate walking down a major street in a big city, wearing cigarette pants and stylish ankle boots, with her head in the game and her eyes on the prize. Katherine may dither, Kathy may chirp, but Kate speaks in a serious, matter-of-fact voice, and when she speaks, you listen. Often, when I think about names, I think about high school, but I can't imagine Kate before she had her own apartment (studio; well-appointed but not ostentatious; clean) or her demanding yet extremely cool job (architect; investigative reporter; corporate detective; spy?). Kate doesn't have a lot of time for friends, but when you manage to catch her in town (she travels a lot for work), she gives great advice. And she tells a great story, although you always know there's a better story she's not telling. Kate could star in a modern-dress production of The Taming of the Shrew — except that in the final act, she'd tell Petruchio where to shove it.

But there's also a dark side to Kate. She's so cool and successful it can make her stuck up. She's not a mean girl, and she's not interested in shit-talk or gossip, but she might not have compassion for people less together than her. Sometimes she just doesn't understand how you could date that guy, or that girl, or why you lost your job when she just got a promotion. This aspect of Kate I can imagine playing out in high school — she's the girl who couldn't see why everyone didn't get an A on the bio test, since it was so easy. Kate doesn't take pleasure in other people's pain, but she has no appreciation for messiness in life, and if you're a little bit of a mess, she has no time for you.

Famous Kates don't necessarily bear out my vision of the name. Kate Moss, whom I consider the iconic Kate, certainly dresses like one. She has the badass aspect of Kateness down, but she's also no stranger to messiness. Kate Winslet just seems too lushly gorgeous — and also too down-to-earth — to fit my image of the somewhat unforgiving Kate. Cate Blanchett might be closer — that angular, ethereal face looks like it could deliver some harsh judgments. But Kate Bosworth seems the closest to the ice-queen version of Kate, especially since her enthusiasm for horseback-riding adds a little upper-crustiness to her image.

Kate hit its peak of popularity — #97 in the US — in the 1880s, and it seems like a pretty good name for a Victorian lady, especially the kind who plays the piano and paints and knows three languages and looks down her nose at you if you use the wrong fork. The name fell all the way down to #843 in the fifties — maybe those traditionalist times favored less hard-driving names for women. Now the name has rebounded to #139, but if you're a Kate, you probably don't give a shit. You're probably not even reading this — after all, you have a plane to catch.

Kate [Wikipedia]
Kate (popularity) [The Baby Name Wizard]

Earlier: J Is For Jennifer, The Vanilla Of Names
I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

It's actually all the way down to #84 in America now, but when I was growing up in the eighties and nineties, Jennifer was everywhere. One commenter on The Baby Name Wizard says, "When you are a 'Jennifer' you will always be known by your first and last name, never just 'Jennifer'" — and indeed, I knew a lot of girls who were doomed to go through school as Jennifer L., Jennifer K., or Jennifer W. Perhaps it's inevitable that a name so common would pick up a girl-next-door vibe, and to me Jennifer immediately conjures up the image of a neat ponytail and a nonthreatening expression. Jennifer's pretty, but she isn't beautiful — and she certainly isn't slutty. She's nice, and she has good friends — she might be the kind of girl with two really close besties, but they're no mean-girl triumvirate. Jennifer will lend you an extra pencil if you need one, but she won't give you her kidney. She's not a Beth, after all. The best thing about being a Jennifer is that no one has anything bad to say about you. The worst thing is that they might get you mixed up with all the other girls who have your name.

Celebrity Jennifers fit the Jennifer stereotype to a T — and maybe they've helped define it. Diva J.Lo is something of an outlier, and Jennifer Connelly seems kind of icy, but smiley Jennifer Garner looks just like the kind of Jennifer G. who got picked a solid third in gym class seven years in a row. And would Jennifer Aniston be the all-American girl to Angelina Jolie's dangerous temptress if her name were, say, Isabel? I think not. Of course, perhaps Aniston's pleasant face and the lengths to which her publicists have gone to make her seem "relateable" have contributed to the image of a Jennifer as a comfortable, average girl — even if she was once married to Brad Pitt.

A common name does have its advantages. As I write this post, I've been thinking back to all the Jennifers I've known — giggly Jennifers, no-nonsense Jennifers, hilarious Jennifers, downright scary Jennifers, and of course a large assortment of Jennys, Jens, and Jenns. Everybody knows a Jennifer, so everybody probably has an opinion of what Jennifers are like — and some of these opinions are bound to be interesting. Having a vanilla name also gives you the opportunity for under-the-radar coolness. Mike Doughty has a pretty great song called "27 Jennifers" that goes, in part,

I went to school with 27 Jennifers,
16 Jenns, 10 Jennies, and then there was her.

When you share your name with 26 other people, you've got a shot at being her, the one who stands out from all the rest and makes an everyday name into something new and weird and awesome. Having a name that's cast from a common mold can be pretty cool, if you're the one to break it.

Jennifer [Wikipedia]
Jennifer [Baby Name Wizard]

Earlier: I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

The name comes from the Latin hilaris, meaning cheerful or merry, and this seems pretty apt. In my mind, Hillary is bawdy — she likes beer, dick jokes, cheeseburgers, and sports. She got in trouble a lot in high school — mostly for talking in class and drawing naked pictures on the overhead when the teacher wasn't looking — but the authorities could never really stay mad at her. She has curly hair, which is often a mess, and she just laughs if you try to stick things in it. She favors jeans and boots, and she may have a little acne, even if she's not a teenager anymore — probably because she doesn't always bother to wash her face after a night out drinking and eating fries. Hillary's a loyal friend, and though she has some insecurities — why, for instance, are her fingernails always bitten down all the way to the quick? — she doesn't let them get in the way of a good time.

Hilary Swank seems like she could once have been this kind of Hillary. The perfectly coiffed Hilary Duff — not so much. And then, of course, there's America's premier Hillary, HRC herself. Her image, especially during the Lewinsky scandal and again as the primaries turned nasty, was pretty much the opposite of party girl. She was supposed to be shrill, power-hungry, domineering — not a laid-back lady who throws back beers with the guys. And her ambitious years at Wellesley seem to have left little time for dick jokes. But Hillary Clinton is also known for her laugh. And while she's gotten criticized for it, a laugh may actually be the sanest response to some of the shit she's had to deal with. Remember how Al Gore became cool after he stopped running for office? Maybe with the presidential campaign behind her, Hillary Clinton can let out her inner class clown.

One thing's for sure — her name is making a comeback. Hillary peaked at #268 in the eighties, then took a huge dive right around the time of that whole Lewinsky thing. By the early 2000, it had dropped out of the top 1000 baby names, only to rebound a little bit — and then dip again right around the time Hillary Clinton ran for president. This is rather depressing news — was Clinton really so hated that her very name became anathema? — but you can't keep Hillary down. The name has now rebounded to #715 — it's like it woke up with a really nasty hangover, ate some eggs, and went out to play a game of basketball.

Though it's much less popular, Hillary can also be a boy's name — and since androgynous names are supposedly having a renaissance (thanks in part to Heidi Klum's little girl Lou), maybe we'll see more little male Hillaries running around. But the Hillary I knew best was actually a hermit crab, a childhood pet I named after mountaineer Edmund Hillary (that's him in the hat). Tragically, s/he got eaten by my brother's crab, which given its personality was probably a Courtney. I came home to find what was once my crab reduced to a little pile of dismembered parts. I cried — but a Hillary probably would've found it funny.

Hillary [Baby Name Wizards]
Hillary [Wikipedia]
Gender-Bending Baby Names [The Daily Beast]

The name itself has a soft quality to it, both in its meaning and in its sibilant ending. Then again, it also starts with "Gr." Which may be why a Grace, to me, is a study in contradictions. She may be sweet and quiet, with a demure haircut (I'm thinking bangs) and a predilection for sweater sets. But in her spare time, she likes to kickbox, or beatbox, or breakdance, or climb mountains. Or her hidden strength might be more intellectual in nature — you lose track of her for a few years after college, only to find out that she's the country's leading nuclear physicist. Or, like, a senator. Point is, she's the kind of girl about whom you're tempted to say, "I didn't know she had it in her." Except you kind of did.

Grace Jones is a good example, in some ways. Her androgynous image jibes with the grr/sss duality of the name — Graces are capable of holding two identities in one. But her fierceness seems to have been pretty obvious from the get-go. Grace Kelly may fit the Grace bill better. With her cool beauty, her perfect hair, and her marriage to a prince, she seemed very demure — and maybe not that exciting. But a Larry King segment from 2003 revealed Kelly's Grace moment: when the Stork Club refused to serve Josephine Baker because of her race, Kelly got up and left, swearing never to return. She never did, and she and Baker became friends. This strikes me as typical Grace — maybe she spent most of high school twirling her pearls, but you'll always remember her for at least one vehement stand.

But maybe my favorite example is actress Grace Park. On Battlestar Galactica, she played a sweet yet efficient lieutenant who was having a secret affair with another officer. Already two identities! But — her character was also a Cylon, which makes not one but two surprises hidden behind her law-abiding exterior. And yet, neither revelation, when it came, seemed out of character at all. Of course, Battlestar is fictional, and Grace Park's character on the show was actually named Sharon. But whatever — I never said this was science.

Grace's popularity graph is pretty interesting. The name was apparently #14 in America in the 1880s, then began sliding. It limped along in the 200s during the fifties and sixties — maybe those Commie-fearing times weren't kind to names with a lot of secrets. Grace hit a low of 371 in the seventies, and then started to climb again, reaching number 13 in 2003 and 2004. In 2008 it was back down to 21, but don't count Grace out — a recession seems like a good time for a name that does double duty.

Grace [Wikipedia]
Grace Popularity Chart [Baby Name Wizards]

Kluger (whose daughters are half-Mexican and named Elisa and Paloma) claims that while some Latin names — especially bilingual ones like Victoria, Cecilia, Hector, Sandra — remain popular, others "appear doomed."

He explains:

What happens, of course, when an immigrant group heads toward assimilation, is that each successive generation gets more educated (82% of first-generation Latin-American kids ages 15 to 17 attend school, compared with 97% of second-generation kids - hardly perfect but moving toward parity) and more proficient in the national language (by the third generation, 95% of Latino kids ages 15 to 17 speak English exclusively or very well). Another thing that happens is that parents start moving away from baby names like Guillermo and closer to names like William.

While there's a sense of belonging for people like Jennifer Lopez and Jessica Alba — born and raised in the U.S. with "Americanized" names, there's also the long-debated question: What's wrong with a name that reflects a baby's heritage? Throughout American history, there have been two schools of thought: You either choose assimilation or aspiration with an "American" name that makes the mainstream public more comfortable, or you "honor" your ethnicity or origins with a name that leaves little doubt about your background. Charlie Sheen was born Carlos Estevez; Ralph Lauren was previously Ralph Lipschitz — and Kluger equates the "Elisas and Jorges and Angelicas" of this era with the "Goldies, Shlomos, Moeshes and Mitzis" of an earlier time.

But if you pick an "assimilated" name to fit in, do you perpetuate the myth that those without assimilated names are "out"? If you worry that Juan or Manuel sounds foreign/uneducated, isn't raising a smart kid named Juan the best way to bust that idea? In any case, a recent study claims hat by 2025, close to 30% of all American kids will have some Latino ancestry. But instead of Pedro, Lucia and Maria, we'll have Michael, Elizabeth and Emily. Dodai, on the other hand…

Adios, Juan and Juanita: Latin Names Trend Down [Time]
Popular Baby Names [Social Security Association]

The Danielles I've known have usually been pretty nice, and while I don't think the name is as saintly as Beth, to me it has a certain wholesome quality. Danielle plays soccer or maybe field hockey. She wears her hair in a ponytail — sometimes she chews gum, but she never snaps it. She might at some point have starred in a public service announcement about exercise or eating fruits and vegetables. She's not as popular as Courtney, but she has plenty of friends, and she does well in school. I'm just realizing that all of my examples of typical Danielle behavior come from high school, which is maybe where all my name stereotypes — and my assumptions about all things social — were formed. And to give you an idea of how flimsy those stereotypes are, the Danielles in one Jezebel editor's life have been "snotty and haughty and rude" or "pushy/emotional/desperate/annoying."

Dani, though, is a whole nother kettle of fish. She's sassy and edgy, and she may have a purple streak in her hair. She shares her name with one of the worst songs of the past decade, but somehow she still manages to be cool. She might well be a mean girl, but she's the kind you can't totally hate, because sometimes she turns around and does something sweet, like giving you really nice present on your birthday or defending you from someone meaner than she is. If she spells her name with an i, her hipness might wear well, but her name is still mainstream enough that she could become a soccer mom, or a crappy character on Law & Order. If she goes by "Danny," though, she might be the kind of iconoclast for whom you just can't predict the future — or, equally possible, the kind of annoying girl who intentionally adopts a boys' name because she thinks it's cute and sexy.

Or, she might grow up to be a judge. According to a new study conducted in South Carolina, female lawyers with "masculine names" are more likely to become judges. One possible explanation is that both potential employers and voters — in the case of judicial elections — are fooled into thinking masculine-named candidates are actually men, and so conscious or unconscious gender bias works in their favor (this would seem to give Danny an advantage over Dani, who still has an advantage over Danielle). It's also possible that even when people know Danny, Esq. is a girl, they trust her more — study authors Bentley Coffey and Patrick McLaughlin write, "a woman with a male moniker might just feel more like 'one of the boys.'" Or, they say, "it could just be that the parents who successfully nurture a girl's ability are the same people who believe that bestowing a child with a masculine name would be advantageous in her future career path."

In his coverage of the judge study, True/Slant's Ryan Sager mentions another study that shows that people's names have some effect on what careers they choose (ie. people named Dennis are more likely to be dentists). Since Danielle happens to mean "God is my judge," maybe parents with judicial aspirations for their daughters really should name them Danielle, but shorten it to Dani or Danny for maximum sexist-fooling potential. Then again, naming your kids according to your hopes for their future careers is kind of creepy. Given the state of the Internet in the early '80s, it wouldn't really have been possible — but I'm still pretty glad my parents didn't name me Blog.

Danielle [Wikipedia]
Judicial Gender Testing [True/Slant]

Based totally on my personal experience, I can see a Courtney being the kind of girl who makes the teacher's life hell by constantly talking, laughing, texting, and gum-chewing during class. She's not the class clown — that would be beneath her — instead, she's that girl who thinks she's too cool to pay attention. And who maybe feels kind of bad for the teacher because she has ugly shoes and is, like, teaching junior high school. She's the girl who's way cooler than you in eighth grade and who, if you ever actually become a teacher yourself, you totally dread.

While I'm sure the world abounds with humble, down-to-earth Courtneys, the Courtneys I have known have generally been princessy, popular, and blonde. The name doesn't say "bitch" to me exactly — Courtney's not the type to, say, fill your locker with tampons. She's the type to laugh when they all fall out, then go back to forgetting you exist. My friend from elementary school had a My Little Pony named Courtney, and it was the one nobody was allowed to touch.

Somebody once told me Courtney meant "of the court," as in royalty — but Anna H. thinks of Courtney as a "country-club name," so "of the tennis court" might be more appropriate. Wikipedia, however, thinks Courtney means either "from places called Courtenay in the regions of Loiret and Gatinais," or, more entertainingly, "snub-nosed." The name peaked in popularity in the 1990s and has since fallen off to #269 in the US.

As is often (shockingly) the case, the lives of famous Courtneys don't seem to bear out my personal biases about the name. Courteney Cox (note the extra e) basically seems like a nice person — she's been so helpful to poor lonely Jennifer Aniston, after all. And Courtney Love is a lot of things, but stuck-up isn't one of them. She's not the girl stuffing the tampons in your locker or the girl laughing — she's the one scrawling "BITCH" on her own locker and then incoherently tweeting about it. Interestingly, both famous Court(e)neys were born in 1964, well before the name hit its height.

I'm sure you guys know (or are) some nice Courtneys — but feel free to supplement my prejudices with stories of Courtneys who snubbed you in the cafeteria as well. It's never too late to relive the miseries of junior high, or to project those miseries onto otherwise innocent girls and women.

Courtney [Wikipedia]
Olivia And Jack Are Most Popular Baby Names [Guardian]

Earlier: B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)

Of course, the selection process for this week's name was a complicated one. Despite its reported popularity around election time, Barack failed to make the 2008 ranking of the top 1,000 baby names. We could have examined this news further, but we're currently biased towards female names. Even with this restriction, though, there were a lot of choices. A look at BabyNames.com reveals Bandana, Betelgeuse (say it three times and see what you get), and Beagan (is that Meagan with a B?). But ultimately, we decided to go with an old favorite.

Beth as a stand-alone name has declined in popularity from a peak in 1960, and it didn't make the top 1,000 in 2008. A variant on Elizabeth or Bethany, it doesn't always get a lot of respect on its own. It doesn't seem to have its own Wikipedia page, and a user on The Baby Name Wizard says, "Everyone assumes my real name is Elizabeth or Bethany, I don't mind." Which is just like a Beth!

Of all of the ways to shorten Elizabeth, Beth sounds the sweetest and the softest. It eliminates the 'z' that makes Lizzie sound sassy and Liz sound sharp, and it doesn't have the old-fashioned spark of Betty (which always make think of Betties Boop and Grable before I think of Cooper). And of course there's Beth from Little Women, the shy, saintly sister who dies of scarlet fever. All in all, Beth just sounds nice — the kind of unassuming girl who'd give you her fruit rollup if you forgot your lunch, or hold your hair while you vomit, and never ask for credit.

Celebrity Beths don't necessarily bear these assumptions out. Beth Ditto's far from unassuming, although according to Michelle Tea she is pretty nice. And model Beth Ostrosky either had to be super-sweet or not sweet at all to marry Howard Stern. Singer Beth Orton doesn't really seem to fit the profile either — or, frankly, any profile. So, maybe our image of the nice, quiet Beth is little simplistic. Beths and Beth-allies, what do you think? Feel free to chime in loudly and angrily.

Few Baby Baracks, But Emmas Abound [NYT]
Beth [The Baby Name Wizards]

Earlier: A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

I'm not the first to bring sweeping generalizations to bear on a single name. We sort of gave Jessica the same treatment back in 2007. And Science tells us that people are more likely to marry and vote for those who share their initials — supposedly, we even prefer to work for companies whose names begin with the same letters as ours. This explains author Evelyn Waugh's marriage to a woman named Evelyn, but not why I work for Jezebel as opposed to, say, Allure (although my inability to deal with eye makeup might explain that). Also, people with uncommon names may be more likely to become criminals. This is probably a case of correlation rather than causation, but you still might want to think twice before you name your kid Grand Theft Auto.

So, to Anna. Anna Holmes says that before Anna Wintour, no one would have thought of Anna as a "bitchy" name, and I tend to agree. That said, our perceptions of names are often shaped by people we've known, or celebrities we think we know, and one bad Anna can spoil the basket. I feel this way about Jared, Chipper (admittedly uncommon), and guys with two first names.

But luckily, no one has soured me or Anna H. on our shared name. She thinks Annas are normally pretty "calm," which is something people say about me a lot, usually when they are unaware of my phobias surrounding spoiled food, looking directly at the microwave, and mail. I think the association with calmness comes from the sound of the name, which is kind of broad and flat, but not so short as to be abrupt, and from its popularity among Scandinavians. Swedes (like my dad's family, who are responsible for my name) are known for their stoicism and unwillingness to express emotion. So maybe Anna Wintour's cold stare isn't so uncharacteristic — although sources say "she smiles now and has been seen to laugh."

Anna H. also tells me Anna is a hard name to make fun of, which I wish was true in my case. I was a really skinny kid in high school, and the number of times I got called Anna-rexia have left me with a knee-jerk rage response any time I hear that word thrown around lightly (I don't love that it's frequently abbreviated 'ana' either). Some kids expanded the nickname to TyrAnnasaurus Rexia, which makes so little sense that I think it's kind of funny.

But aside from the Anna-rexia problem and the Wintour factor, I don't think the name has a lot of negative associations. When I Google myself, I often get the North Anna nuclear power plant, which I think is kind of cool (and interesting in the context of Anna Wintour's nickname, "Nuclear Wintour"). I don't know that many Annas — though I probably will some day, as the name has gotten a lot more popular since I was born — but the ones I've met have been pretty easy-going. Anna supposedly means "grace" or "graceful" — not that accurate in my case, because I can't dance and am generally kind of twitchy, but nice all the same. Anna H. thinks the name sounds a bit upper-class, but I think it's unpretentious. It's short and easy to say, without a lot of extra bells and whistles (although how I longed for an extra -belle as a kid, when I was convinced my name was short for Annabelle. Or Mermaid.). In general, I think my name has a laid-back quality that effectively masks the more obsessive and neurotic features of my personality. But you may disagree. Do you know any bitchy Annas? Are you one? And are there other names you'd like to see us "analyze" in the future?

Related: Anna (Name) [Wikipedia]

The program scours the internet for information about the person and then fits them into a set of categories using an algorithmic process. Obviously from the results below, the process isn't perfect, but that's part of the point. The creators explain:

It is meant for the viewer to reflect on our current and future world, where digital histories are as important if not more important than oral histories, and computational methods of condensing our digital traces are opaque and socially ignorant.

In other words, it may be telling that one of Nadya Suleman's biggest categories is "fame," but "sports" winding up on Anna Wintour's profile probably means the computer misinterpreted combative phrases in articles about her.

You can check out what Personas reveals about your favorite (or unfavorite) people here. Feel free to share the results in the comments.

Click on the images below to make them larger:

Personas [MIT]

Josiah Neufeld (yes, that's his married name) took his wife's because...well, I'll let him explain.

I did it because I love Mona - because I wanted her to know that I didn't expect her to become anyone other than herself. It mattered to me that we shared a name, so I reasoned I should be the one to offer mine up. And a combination name like Neufeld-Thiessen would only solve the dilemma temporarily. Eventually a child of ours would bring this unwieldy last name to his or her own marriage - most likely to another hyphenee...I did it because any form of power comes with duties. I'm obliged to take responsibility for my power, to learn its effects - even unintentional ones - to see what it does to others when I'm not watching, to use it in the best way possible. Sometimes to relinquish it.

Obviously, of all the highly personal choices people make when marrying, the changing or retention or invention of their name is one of the most so. It's public, it's declaratory and, whether it's perceived as a reverent nod to tradition, a declaration of revolution, or a compromise, it's always making some kind of statement. Neufeld's family isn't completely cool with it; to some of them it seems weird, to others confusing, and probably to a few, hurtful. I remember my dad telling me years ago that he'd be shocked and hurt if I ever changed my name, which surprised me; I wouldn't have thought he'd care much about a word probably tacked on only a century or so ago by some high-handed Polish official. My mother, like many women of her generation, retained her maiden name and would have considered anything else a betrayal of principles. But I know many younger women don't take that view; to them, taking their husband's name is more about creating a single family identity than surrendering her own. Most people I know have hyphenated; my high-school reunion's attendance list was noticeably double-barreled. (Those who already had hyphenates - a sizable number in my progressive school - had retained their names.) I know a few cases in which all members of the family - husband, wife, kids - have taken on a hyphenate. I don't personally know of anyone who's committed to the invention of a brand-new combo name, but one hears tell of such wondrous things.

What's funny is - although I had no intention, had I thought of it, of giving up my native-born alliteration - I sort of resented my dad's saying that. It seemed to me it should be my choice, which was as much the point as retaining a maiden name (which, as many will declare, it's still a man's name in the end.) I get the impulse to unite under a single name - in a sense, maybe it's nice for kids, too; it's a kind of commitment. But I wouldn't expect my husband to take mine, as that would feel - to me - as arbitrary as the reverse (although I get the argument to the contrary.) As I say, it's personal; in the author's case, he was making a statement - but a gentle one. He loved her, he wanted to wield his patriarchal potency responsibly, and, at the end of the day, it seems like his wife was simply more attached to her name than he. It should be said, in case you wonder, that yes, Mr. Neufeld seems to be pretty sensitive all-around. ("I wear my new name as proudly as I wear the tiny woman with braided hair I carved from a piece of antler and hung around my neck as a wedding ring. Mona wears a miniature man. Both come from the same bone. I can't remember which I carved first, but I think the woman is the more beautiful of the two.") So I don't see this practice necessarily becoming de rigeur. But I do think we'll get to a point where such a choice doesn't require explanation; after all, as cultures increasingly intermingle, the relative importance and transience and significance of names will only become even more complex. The question is whether some families will ever cease to take it personally - and whether they should.

I Took My Wife's Last Name [Globe And Mail]

Here's what you do:

Take the first letter of your middle name and insert it anywhere you'd like in your first name. And then your last name is the smallest foreign town you've ever visited. Presto: You too can compete with Korva Coleman, Lakshmi Singh and Mandalit del Barco.

My NPR name is refreshingly unpronounceable (Anbna is short for Anbnabnelle!). Anna Holmes becomes Anena Mullimbimby, which I think sounds like a disease, or possibly a fun character on a children's TV show from another planet. Dodai is Dosdai KoSamet; Sadie is Osadie Smichow. Margaret's is Margareti Lacock, which sounds like it belongs on National Pornographic Radio. Megan is Mmegan HoiAn, which she thinks sucks — but add an apostrophe and you have M'Megan Hoi'An, an awesome Star Trek villianess. Who are you in the NPR universe?

Your NPR Name, Like Your Drag Queen Name Only Unpronounceable [MediaBistro]